"Would you like me to close that for you?" she asked Tavi quietly. "I won't need a tub for something that small."

Tavi glanced at her, and a complex little cloud of emotions drifted around him for a second. Then he shook his head and closed down on them, until Isana could no longer sense anything except for a vague dissatisfaction. "No, thank you. It's not leaking anymore." The words came out with a small, harsh edge. He gave her a guilty little glance, and then a half-forced smile appeared on his face. "Though at the rate I'm going, I might need you to patch up my pride."

Ehren appeared from within the cabin in time to say, waving vaguely at the sea, "I don't think there's enough water available."

Tavi arched an eyebrow. "Why don't you come practice with us and say that again, little man?"

Ehren raised a modest hand. "Thank you, no. I get confused about which end of the sword I should hold. I wouldn't dream of slowing down the advanced class." He turned the gesture into a mocking little fencer's salute and strode off toward the back of the ship, presumably to speak with their captain again.

"Some annoying little person is going to get thrown into the drink someday," Tavi called after him. Then he shook his head, grinning, and turned back to Araris. Isana watched, between stitches. She knew barely enough about sword-play to be able to watch it, but it seemed to her that Tavi was moving more slowly, but also more certainly. She caught a flicker of satisfaction from Araris, as the young man defended against half a dozen swift strokes.

Kitai's voice suddenly rang out from the rigging above. "Sails!" she called. "Dead ahead!"

Men paused in their work. A thrill of apprehension flashed through the air, brushing against Isana like a frozen cobweb. Immediately, Demos's voice began calling out brusque orders, and he swarmed up the ropes into the rigging himself, moving as nimbly as a squirrel through the lines. Isana watched as he gained the crow's nest, where Kitai pointed out something to him. Demos held up his hands in a gesture Isana had often seen used by windcrafters to magnify their view of different objects.

He stared for a moment. Then he came swinging back down through the rigging and dropped the last ten feet to the deck. He shouted more orders, and the ship suddenly pitched sharply to its right. Men scrambled to readjust the sails, while Demos strode back and forth, shouting terms and commands so obscure and confusing to Isana that he might as well have been speaking another language.

Isana rose and walked calmly to Demos's side, once the initial stream of orders trickled off. "Captain," she said. "What's happening?"

Isana took note that Tavi and Ehren had stepped over closer to her, as Demos answered.

"That's the Mactis out there," he said, his tone calm. "Red Gallus's ship." He stared out over the waves at a gleam of white sailcloth in the far distance. "I ordered a change of course. Now we'll see what he does."

"Skipper!" called a man from the ship's wheel. "He's changing course to intercept."

"Bloody crows." Demos sighed. "Lady, I recommend that you and yours get into your cabin and stay there."

"Why?" Isana said. "What's happening?"

"The captain of the Mactis thinks he's a pirate," Demos replied. "The fool means to board us."

Isana felt her eyes grow very wide. "Oh."

"Can he catch us, Captain?" Tavi asked.

Demos nodded once. "Likely. He picked his position pretty well. The wind is taking us into him, he's got a good current, and Gallus knows this part of the business. Give us a few more leagues, and he might turn back."

"Why would he do that?" Ehren asked.

"Because I'm sailing for the Run."

Ehren froze in his tracks and blinked at Demos. "What?"

Tavi frowned, and asked in a completely different tone, "What?"

"The Leviathans' Run," Ehren told Tavi. He licked his lips nervously. "It's a stretch of ocean where, uh…"

"Leviathans," Tavi said. "I get it."

"Not exactly," Demos said. He sounded almost bored. "It's where young males who haven't staked out their own territory tend to congregate."

"Oh," Tavi said. "What do they do there?"

"What every group of young males does," Demos replied. "Fight each other for no good reason. Charge around blindly at full speed just for the crows of it."

"And smash ships to tiny pieces," Ehren added in a very small voice.

Demos grunted agreement and turned to the rail again. "My witchmen are better than his. Let's see if he wants to roll the dice today."

"Captain," Tavi said. "No offense, but have you given thought to… well. Taking him on?"

"No," Demos said. "The Slive is half the size of the Mactis. And Gallus carries extra swordsmen to boot. Three to one odds aren't the kind I like."

"We've got some fairly capable hands ourselves," Tavi said.

Demos looked at him and barked out a short, harsh laugh. "Kid, you're pretty good. But there's a long way between training sessions with a family swordmaster and spilling blood on a rolling deck."

"He's right," Araris said quietly, stepping up to stand behind Tavi. "This fight is better avoided."

Demos looked past Tavi to the older man. "You've fought at sea before?"

"Yes." Araris didn't elaborate.

Demos nodded once. "Listen to your teacher, kid. And get comfortable. It's going to be a couple of hours before we get this sorted out, either way. Excuse me. I need to make sure my witchmen aren't drunk again."

Demos strode off to the stairway down to the hold and descended smoothly.

"That was a joke, right?" Ehren said. "About the watercrafters?"

Isana frowned. She could feel a rising anxiety pouring from the young Cursor. His arms were folded, and one of Ehren's feet drummed nervously on the wooden deck.

Tavi noted Ehren's worry as well. "What's got you so twitchy?" he asked.

"If you'd ever actually seen…" Ehren licked his lips. "I'm going to go rifle the bosun's trunk. Bound to be something to drink in there. You want any?"

Tavi frowned. "No. I'm fine."

Ehren jerked his head in a quick nod and glanced at Araris and Isana. "Sir? Lady?"

They declined, and Ehren scurried away, his face quite pale.

Tavi watched him go, frowning, and then went to the ship's railing. He stood staring out at the ocean for a time and occasionally stepped away to pace up and down the rail. After perhaps half an hour, he stalked over to Isana's side and frowned down at her.

"How can you just sit there, sewing?" he asked.

Isana didn't look up from her work. "Is there something else I should be doing?"

Tavi folded his arms, frowning. "The captain said you should get into the cabin."

"He said we all should," Isana responded. "But I don't see you going there."

Tavi frowned at her. "Well. I should be on deck."

"So that someone can trip over you?" Isana asked. She tried not to smile, she honestly did, but felt it on her mouth despite her efforts. "Or perhaps you think your sword is going to be of use in trimming sails. Or warding leviathans away."

He let out an exasperated breath. "At least as useful as your sewing."

Isana set the sewing down and regarded her son steadily. "It's going to be hours before anything happens, and it's a lovely day. From the level of anxiety I'm sensing from the crew and Ehren, they expect that we might well be crushed by a leviathan and dragged into the depths of the sea. Failing that, we can look forward to a desperate struggle against a band of pirates who outnumber us three to one." She turned back to her task. "In either circumstance, the light would be less than ideal for sewing. So I think I'll sit here on the deck and enjoy the sunshine while I may, if that's quite all right with you."

Tavi stared at her, and she could feel his complete shock quite clearly.