As be hurried to the stairs, Artus didn't notice the first mate stop to retrieve his journal from where it had fallen to the deck. Quiracus slipped the wyvern hide-bound book into the pocket of his baggy cotton pants. "Wait for the order to fire!" the first mate shouted to no one in particular, then rushed to the stairs himself.

The scene on the quarterdeck was even more chaotic than below. In a half-dozen places, sailors lay in heaps, broken limbs jutting out at ridiculous angles from their bodies. They had obviously fallen from the rigging when the Narwhal listed. Pontifax leaned over one unfortunate woman. Two men held her down as the mage reset her dislocated shoulder. Other sailors scrambled for the pikes strapped to the masts, ready to repel any boarders.

Off the starboard bow, an island had seemingly risen from the sea. The dark, rocky mound was almost half the length of the Narwhal. Gorgeous patterns of silver glittered all along the gentle curve of its sides, broken in places by trailers of seaweed. A sharp ridge ran along the center, leading to another, smaller mound-

Artus gasped. It was a head!

"It's Aremag again," Nelock shouted as he ran past, racing for the poop deck.

"I know," Quiracus snapped. He hurried after the boatswain, Artus in tow. This uncharacteristic anger made the elf look oddly nefarious-his arched eyebrows knit together, his gold eyes flashing.

Captain Bawr stood at the starboard rail, a speaking horn held before her. The hood of her cloak had fallen back, and her hair now framed her face in dark ringlets. Artus was struck again with the woman's beauty, though uneasiness at her strange nature overwhelmed any other feelings her appearance stirred.

"We've paid your toll already this month, Aremag," she shouted. "If you've damaged my ship, you'll be the one to pay for her repairs."

The monstrous turtle roared and slowly opened its blood-red eyes. The sounds coming from its gaping mouth at first seemed no more than unintelligible groans and rumbles, but as Artus listened, he discerned a pattern, a clear hierarchy of sounds and a rigid structure of word order. He had learned a few languages in his travels, but this was the first time he'd ever heard any of the tongues related to dragon speech.

Clearly the captain understood the dragon turtle's words. When it stopped speaking, she pounded a fist on the rail. "Master Quiracus," she said, tight reins on her anger, "have the ballistae ready to fire."

"Already done, Captain," he replied. When she glanced at him questioningly, he added, "I saw the silver pattern from its shell on the water right before we hit. The moon's not bright enough tonight to make that kind of reflection. I knew we were near the turtle's territory, so-"

"Fine," the captain replied coldly. "That makes my decision easier." Turning to the boatswain, she ordered, "Gather the men who were on watch tonight and put them in the ship's boat. If Master Quiracus saw Aremag coming, they should have noticed him, too."

"Some are wounded, milady," Nelock said meekly.

"Where they're going, it won't matter." She pointed to the stairs leading to the cabins. "Master Quiracus, get two empty chests from my cabin. Apologize to the ambassador, but assure him we're handling the problem."

The dragon turtle roared again, and Captain Bawr put the speaking horn to her lips. "I'll pay your price," she shouted, "but know the Refuge Bay Trading Company will be displeased. If you can't be trusted to keep to the agreement we made months ago, our ships will take other routes to Chult."

Artus sputtered a protest, but it was Nelock who spoke first. "Milady," the boatswain said, "the crew might not take kindly to this-sacrificing some of their own to buy safe passage. They might even mutiny."

"They'll be glad it wasn't them I chose, Master Nelock," she snarled. Her skin had begun to take on a reddish hue. "Our ballista fire would bounce off Aremag's shell. We can't outrun him. Our only choice is to pay him the ten men and the treasure he demands. Do you want to be in the ship's boat with those unfortunate men when it's lowered into the water?"

Nelock backed away, shaking his head. He bumped into Artus, then turned and cursed. "Why are ya standing-" He paused and narrowed his eyes. "I should have known."

"Why isn't this man at his post?" the captain asked. She had reverted back to her demure appearance, though her cheeks still held a rosy blush.

"Master Quiracus told me to come on deck," Artus stammered.

"I did no such thing, milady," the first mate said. The elf was carrying the two small chests he'd retrieved from the cabins below. The burden wasn't heavy, but his face was pale and his voice quavered as he stepped forward. "He must have deserted his post. He's done it before."

"Put him into the boat with the others," the captain ordered flatly. "If the surgeon notices you taking his friend away and objects in the least, send him along as well."

Artus's head swam, and he looked to the first mate for some kind of explanation. The elf was moving toward him, a small sheet of bone-white parchment held before him in his left hand. Nelock grabbed Artus from behind, pinning his arms back. "Sorry," the boatswain whispered, "there just ain't no other way."

Skuld appeared in a flash of silver light. The guardian spirit towered over the apelike boatswain, laughing at the terror in the sailor's eyes. He knocked Nelock senseless with a single fist to the top of the head. As the petty officer crumpled at Artus's feet, Skuld turned toward Master Quiracus. The elf hesitated for an instant, looked at the paper he held in his hand, then ran for the stairs.

"How dare you!" Captain Bawr snarled, leaping at Skuld.

The winsome woman abruptly transformed into a creature more reptile than human. Spiny ridges covered her skull, and red scales ran along her crocodile's snout. Her mouth was like a crocodile's, too, wide and gaping and filled with jagged teeth. Bawr now had the muscled arms and legs of a mountain dwarf. She'd torn through her pretty shoes and hose, but her blouse and flowing skirt still hung in tatters from her leathery body. She might have been truly terrifying but for the absurdity of those dainty clothes.

She sprang for the guardian spirit's throat, but he caught her in midair with one of his four arms. Bawr tore at the silver limb with her claws and struggled to clamp down with her powerful jaws. Skuld watched disinterestedly as the creature razed metallic slivers from his arm. As fast as the inhuman flesh fell to the deck, the wounds healed over.

"Master?" Skuld asked, lifting the snarling creature higher off the wooden planks.

"Gods, Skuld, just get rid of her," Artus cried.

The spirit leaned back and heaved her over the side. The lizardlike thing that was Captain Bawr tumbled through the air, then splashed into the sea near the dragon turtle's head. Aremag twisted around slowly and gulped down the thrashing creature. After smacking its lips, it bellowed at the boat.

"The dragon turtle wants nine more men," Skuld noted helpfully. He folded both sets of arms across his chest. "Shall I gather them up for you, O mighty one?"

A small circle of sailors had gathered around Artus and Skuld. Since the captain had never kept a personal guard, assured as she was of her own powers of self-defense, no one took up the challenge of avenging her death. If Artus had the might to do away with the unpredictable captain, perhaps he should have command of the Narwhal.

"Well," one of the sailors said, "that monster won't wait all day. If we don't give it what it wants, it'll sink us for sure."

Pontifax arrived then, the blood of the dead and wounded spattering his tunic. "Do you have any spells that could help us?" Artus asked.

"Against that thing?" the mage replied. "Only if you want to make it really angry."