"You're welcome," Leesil grumbled, clambering up.

Magiere, Brot'an, Sgaile, and Osha followed. Only then did Wynn take her first good look about the ship, instantly wishing she had quill and paper in hand.

The strange sidewall-in place of a rail-with its shallow swoop-and-peak edge had caught her eye as she climbed the ladder. But up on the deck, its most striking aspect was a complete absence of planks.

The deck's glistening wood was as smooth as the rainwater barrels she had seen in an'Croan homes-fashioned from inert wood by elven Makers born with an innate gift for thaumaturgy. Longer but narrower than any three-masted vessel she had seen, the entire hull appeared to have been melded into one solid piece, without a single crack or seam in its smooth, tawny surface.

The masts, rigging, and other fixtures were separate pieces, judging by the way weather had aged them. Wynn wondered even more how the deck remained comparatively smooth and richly colored. Halfway between center mast and forecastle was a meshed grate over a large raised opening.

"What is that?" she asked.

"The deck hatch to the cargo bay," Osha answered in Elvish.

Wynn tilted her head back to see the bulges of furled sails hanging from pale yellow masts. The fabric was almost iridescent white, as if made from sheot'a cloth, the elves' equivalent to satin. But this did not seem likely, for where would they find enough cocoons to weave so much material?

"Ah, dead deities!" Leesil moaned.

The ship was still anchored in the bay's calm water, but Leesil already wore a sickly glower.

"Finally," Magiere sighed under her breath.

Wynn knew that nine days was not an unusual length of time for cargo ships to harbor at port-and she and the others lived at the whim and charity of these elves. She could not help note how foreign, though lovely, Magiere appeared on an an'Croan ship.

Her black hair sparked wildly with red from the bright sun glinting off open water. She seemed even paler than usual, surrounded by the vessel's rich color and the wide blue sky. In black breeches and a white shirt recently tailored within the city, she had donned her studded leather hauberk and strapped on her falchion. And recently, Magiere had taken to constantly wearing gloves.

The crew stared at Magiere as well, but their expressions did not echo Wynn's appreciation. Neither Leesil nor Magiere seemed to notice these angry looks, and Wynn was reminded of one clear fact.

Magiere had to leave elven lands and never return.

Chap had learned why and passed it through Wynn. Magiere, born in a blood rite, had been made for a purpose.

Unlike an undead or just a normal human, she could enter elven land. Its natural safeguards could not stop her. Worse still, she fed upon the forest by her very presence, as her undead father had fed upon the living. Magiere had been made to breach any place that the undead had not been able to enter during the long-forgotten war. This knowledge left Wynn fearful of what might come in the future. Magiere's very presence and creation suggested that war-like in the time of the Forgotten-would come again.

A tall, thick-armed elf in a brown head scarf dropped from the aftcastle and plodded toward them. Most likely, this was the hkomas-the "able authority" or ship's captain. Brot'an met him halfway, and Wynn tried to edge close to catch their words.

A stab of nausea took her by surprise.

Why do Sgaile and Osha remain with us?

Chap's words flooded Wynn's head, spoken simultaneously in every language she knew. She had grown accustomed to snatching meaning from the tangle of tongues. Glancing behind, she found Chap eying the two elves suspiciously.

More than a dog, Chap was an eternal Fay, born into the body of a majay-hi-a colloquial term, loosely meaning "hound of the Fay." The breed had descended from the long-forgotten times when wolves were inhabited by Fay during the war of the Forgotten History. This made Chap doubly unique, and only Wynn could hear him in her head.

This was not supposed to happen.

Two seasons past, she had meddled with a mantic ritual to help Magiere track an undead. The attempt had gone horribly wrong, and over the passing moons Chap had tried more than once to cleanse her. But the taint remained and kept manifesting in new ways.

"I do not know," she whispered to Chap. "Sgaile said the hkomas would be uncomfortable having humans aboard without an escort."

No-the an'Croan council of clan elders requested this ship. Sgaile's continued presence is something else… and too sudden. Something more has happened since the ship's arrival-and your babbling our plans to Brot'an.

"Oh, drop that already!" Wynn whispered, but her feelings were mixed.

She too wondered why Sgaile chose to continue his guardianship into this voyage, but part of her was glad. A respected member of his caste, when Sgaile spoke, people listened. Osha's presence was another matter, and left Wynn unsettled in ways she did not understand. Their travels and ordeals in an'Croan lands had brought out the best and worst in him. In the end, she counted him as a friend. But when they said farewell on the river's shore at Crijheaiche, she had never expected to see him again.

Osha caught Wynn watching him and raised thick eyebrows, making his horselike face appear even longer. Wynn turned away, but Chap continued studying the young elf.

He is profoundly relieved… concerning something to do with Sgaile.

"You see that in his mind?" she whispered, surprised.

Within his line of sight, Chap could pick out surfacing memories from a sentient being's conscious thoughts, but she was not aware he could sense emotions.

No, it is plain on his face… and the way he follows Sgaile about, waiting to fulfill any command in an instant. Osha could not long hide a secret, unless he pulled that cowl over his entire head.

"Stop being so pompous!" Wynn said too loudly.

Slightly raised voices pulled her attention back to Brot'an and the ship's hkomas, and she tried to decipher their rapid Elvish. From what she could follow, the captain's inhospitable manner with Brot'an came from the vague instructions concerning the destination of his "passengers." Wynn had expected this. Moments later, a troubled Brot'an walked past Wynn straight toward Magiere, and Wynn hurried to follow.

"Did he refuse?" Magiere asked.

Brot'an shook his head. "The hkomas will take you south, but the elders did not choose the best ship for you."

Magiere's pale brow wrinkled as she crossed her arms.

"Why?" Leesil asked, already gripping the deck's rail-wall, as if growing more unsteady on his feet by the moment.

"This vessel serves coastal an'Croan communities," Brot'an answered. "From here, it sails east around the point before it turns south down the coast."

"How long?" Magiere asked.

"Five or six days at a run… but this is a main cargo vessel. It will stop at every harbor, especially those of other rivers reaching the coast, where the barge clans bring goods from the inlands."

Leesil's eyes widened as Magiere's mouth fell open. Wynn braced herself for the coming storm.

"What?" Magiere growled. "We were promised a ship to take us anywhere we asked to go!"

Osha fidgeted slightly in alarm, glancing about the ship. Several of the crew glared in Magiere's direction. They might not understand her words, but her rising tone was clear.

"Magiere…," Sgaile warned softly.

"You led us onto that barge, and all the way to the coast," she snarled, "promising to get us out of here. But we've been trapped in this city, waiting. Now our ship's stopping at every town along the way? You-you're-"

Magiere turned away toward the rail-wall beside Leesil.

"We need to go south-now." Her voice weakened to a whisper as she closed her eyes. "Please… now."