Chap ceased rumbling and glanced over his shoulder at Leesil and Magiere.

"Fine!" Magiere grumbled, swatting off the droplets of seawater running down her coat.

Chap lifted his muzzle, looking up for Wynn, but instead he spotted the young elven girl with the thick braid. She gripped the rail-wall near the ship's stern, watching as the skiff turned toward the shore. Chap looked past Sgaile, rowing hard, and out over the skiff's prow.

Chattering seagulls circled overhead, and Chap wondered what lay beyond the shore.

Wynn settled on the cabin's floor that night, warming the cold lamp crystal in her hands. Its light increased, glowing brightly between her fingers, and she set it on her bunk ledge. Osha sat cross-legged nearby, arranging their dinner tray of dried apricots, grilled halibut, and elven tea.

The crystal provided their only light. Sea air wafted through the open porthole, and the ship sat steady at anchor. The cabin seemed a cozy and welcome place.

"I am sorry you had to stay behind because of me," she said in Elvish. No one else was present, and Elvish was easier for Osha, even with their differing dialects.

Osha poured two cups of tea. "I am glad to fulfill such a purpose in service to you."

Wynn settled across from Osha, both dressed in their loose elven garments-he in his anmaglahk tunic and pants, more charcoal gray than green in the low light, and she in the dusty yellow and russet of Sgaile's clan. They had never shared a meal in private, and as they ate, Wynn grew curious. For one, how much did Osha know of where Sgaile had taken Leesil and Magiere-and why?

"Do you know where they are going?" she asked.

Osha rocked backward slightly, trying not to meet her eyes.

"Please do not ask such questions," he said, though it sounded like a plea. "Sgailsheilleache has put his faith in me. I cannot fail him."

Wynn sighed and leaned against the bunk's edge, feeling a little guilty for tempting Osha to betray a confidence.

"Why are you here, Osha?" she asked. "Why did Sgaile bring you?"

Then she wanted to cringe. That had not come out right. It sounded as if she thought Osha would have been the last of all possible choices. But he appeared oblivious to her slip. He took a breath and exhaled, as if he had achieved something which brought him long-sought relief.

"He is now my jeoin."

"Your…," Wynn began, puzzling over the title, and finally had to continue in Belaskian. "Your… 'assenter'?"

Osha cocked his head. "It is the word for what he is, my… " He, too, had to turn to Belaskian as well. "I find my teacher!"

He took another long breath before continuing in Elvish.

"It has been hard to find one who was willing enough for me to even ask. But when Sgailsheilleache said I should come to stay with his family, I knew my search was over."

Wynn was careful to smile happily at this. Judging by what she had seen and heard, the lanky young elf was not like the rest of his caste, perhaps not even suited to their calling, and yet he would not give up. But inside, she was not happy at all over this news. Osha had found someone to take him in, and Sgaile would apprentice him.

As an assassin, among other things.

"I am glad for you," Wynn said and reached for her tea, contemplating some other topic. "Tell me of… your family, where you grew up."

Osha blinked. "My family? You wish to hear about my life?"

Her smile was sincere this time. "Has no one ever asked you this before?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Never?" She sat upright in surprise. "Yes, I wish to know about your life."

Osha seemed to gather his thoughts for a long moment.

"I am of the alachben"-he switched briefly to Belaskian-"the Rock-Hills clan… a place not like Crijheaiche or Ghoivne Ajhajhe. My people live simply, raising goats in the foothills to be shorn for their hair."

"And the hides for our new coats?"

"Yes," he answered, then hesitated. "But my father was not well… a difficulty with his heart." Osha placed a hand over his chest, and his gaze drifted. "Our healers could not mend it, and he died young, only sixty-three years of age. My mother fell into mourning and could not rise again."

"I am sorry," Wynn said. "You must have felt alone."

He looked at her, amber eyes clearing in the cold lamp crystal's light.

"No, I have three siblings, and my brother and sisters took charge of the herds, but I was the youngest by many years. Even Chionntaj, my sister closest to me in age, saw me as one more duty among others."

He dropped his eyes to the untouched meal between them, and Wynn gleaned a small glimpse of Osha's youth. A lonely childhood at best. And it appeared he had been given little to no responsibility, which might account for his lack of self-confidence or practical abilities. She wanted to take his hand.

"Both my parents passed over," she said, wishing to distract him. "I grew up an orphan in the sages' guild in Malourne."

Osha raised his head. "No clan?"

Wynn smiled again. "Not as you think of it, but I was never alone. The sages became my family, and a good one at that, as I was privileged to grow up among them instead of in the orphanage. I attended one of the public schools they established in the king's city, and something new and interesting was always happening on the guild's grounds. Or I would just listen while my elders sank into one of their perpetual debates, which never seemed to be settled. They taught me history and languages. Later, Domin Tilswith, an elder of the Order of Cathologers, took me as his apprentice. I traveled with him to this continent. I have been most fortunate in my life."

But Wynn felt an ache of longing for her days in the guild, for lentil and tomato stew, for the caring company of scholarly comrades.

"This is why you became a… a 'sage' yourself?" Osha asked. "Because you value their way of life?"

She was uncertain how to answer. "Yes, in part. I wanted to learn and explore, to share knowledge and teach others." She tilted her head. "Why did you join the Anmaglahk?"

Startled by this sudden shift back to him, Osha swallowed.

"Three seasons before I went for name-taking, two of the caste came to my enclave with a message for our clan elders. This had never happened before. And such a pair-two Greimasg'ah at once-Great Eillean, Leshil's grandmother, and Brot'an'duive. Everyone was in awe of them, and I had never seen anyone treated with such respect. I could barely bring myself to peer from around the tree of my home, and with all my body, I wished to be like them."

Osha lowered his head, lifting only his eyes at Wynn with a halting whisper, "Not an honorable reason."

Wynn swallowed her reservations and reached for his hand. "To strive to excel… especially in service to others… is always honorable. Your family should be proud of you."

Through the glow of the cold lamp crystal, Osha stared at her. His hand started to tremble, and he slowly pulled it from hers. Long muscles in his forearm clenched tightly. Wynn realized she had never seen his bare arms before.

"But," she began, "are there not other ways you could have earned the respect you desire… other ways to serve your…"

She trailed off as puzzlement spread across Osha's long face.

"Never mind," she finished.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, I do not think so."

He nodded and stood up. "Then you should rest. I will sit vigil."

Was he not going to sleep? Wynn knew it was pointless to argue.

She unrolled one of the mats and a blanket on her bunk ledge, realizing she was tired. When she settled there, Osha had dropped back to a cross-legged position in the middle of her cabin.

Wynn had assumed he would be outside in the hall, or in the next cabin over, with his own door wide to keep an eye on things-but not in the middle of her own room. Suddenly sheepish, she pulled the blanket up and rolled toward the cabin's hull wall.