'I didn't really notice,' Sedric admitted. A moment later, he added, 'I should apologize to you, Alise. I've neglected you shamefully on this voyage. I wasn't in the mood for travel so soon after returning to Bingtown.'

She smiled and responded to his polite excuse with honesty. 'Sedric, I doubt you would ever be in the mood to travel to the Rain Wilds, no matter how long you'd been at home. And I do apologize that Hest chose to inflict me on you. I truly hadn't expected anything of the sort. I was startled to discover that he thought I'd need a chaperone for the journey, and when he said I must have one, I expected him to choose some respected old hen to cluck and scuttle after me. Not you! I never imagined his sparing your time away from him to escort me.'

'Nor did I,' Sedric replied drolly, and they both laughed. Alise gave him a genuine smile. This was better, much better. Now he was sounding much more like the Sedric of old.

Without thinking, she squeezed his arm slightly and said, 'You know, I've missed our old friendship. You may not enjoy this journey, but I think I'll relish it all the more for your company and conversation.'

'Company and conversation,' he repeated, and an odd note crept into his voice. 'I would think you'd prefer your husband for that.'

His comment broke the mood. She was shocked at how deeply she responded to what probably had been intended as a pleasantry. She very nearly told him how very little company and conversation she'd ever had with Hest. Loyalty tied her tongue, or perhaps shame. She teetered on the unpleasant realization that Hest had so completely silenced her. Even out of his presence, he restricted her words. She had no female confidante to divulge her woes to; she'd never had the intimate friendships that she knew some other women enjoyed. Talking with Sedric, recalling how friendly they'd been in their younger years, had wakened a terrible longing for a friend. Yet he was not her friend, not any more. He was her husband's secretary, and it would be a double betrayal for her to speak frankly of how desiccated a relationship her marriage to Hest was. It was humiliating enough that he knew she had once suspected Hest of infidelity. It would betray her vows to Hest, and worse, it would put Sedric in an untenable position. No. She couldn't do that to her friend. Had he noticed her sudden silence? She hoped not. She lifted her hand from his arm and broke free of him, hurrying a little ahead to exclaim inanely, 'There is just no end to these immense trees! How they shade the land and water!'

Clef was standing beside the short ladder that led to the foredeck. He offered her his hand, but she waved him off gaily with a confidence she didn't feel. The bulk of her skirts and petticoats pressed against the stanchions as she climbed to the foredeck. At the top, she stepped on the hem of her skirt gaining the upper deck, and stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a fall.

'Ma'am!' Clef exclaimed in alarm behind her, and she said 'Oh, I'm quite all right. Just a bit clumsy. That's me!' She patted her hair, smoothed down her skirts and looked around expectantly. The deck narrowed before her, and there seemed to be an inordinate number of ropes and cleats and things she had no names for. As she advanced to the very point of the bow, she could see the back of Paragon's head below the bowsprit. His hair was dark and curly.

'Please, go on forward to speak to him,' Clef urged her. Behind her, she heard Sedric's muttering as he gained the deck. She didn't look back at him, but pushed forward until she leaned on a railing and could look over the side. She had known, but it was still a bit startling to see that the much larger-than-life figurehead was not clothed. His bare tanned back was toward her. His muscular arms were crossed in front of him.

'Good day,' she began and then halted, tongue-tied. Was that how one addressed a liveship? Should she call him 'sir' or 'Paragon'? Treat him as a man or a ship?

At that moment, he twisted his torso and neck to look back at her. 'Good day, Alise Kincarron. I'm pleased to finally meet you.'

His eyes were a pale blue, startling in his weathered face. She could not look away from him. He had the colouring of a man but the fine grain of his wizardwood showed in his face. It looked as flexible as skin but obviously was not. She realized she was staring and looked aside. 'Actually, my name is Alise Finbok,' she began, and then wondered how he had known her maiden name at all. She pushed the unsettling thought aside and decided to be both bold and blunt. 'I'm so pleased to speak with you as well. I felt shy about coming forward to meet you; I wasn't quite sure of the protocol. Thank you so much for inviting me.'

Paragon had turned away from her, putting his attention back on the river. He shrugged one bare shoulder. 'There is no protocol that I know of for speaking to a liveship, other than what each ship makes for himself. Some passengers come and greet me immediately, before they board. A few never speak a word to me. At least, not intentionally.' He flashed her a knowing grin over his shoulder, as if amused that his words discomfited her. 'And some few passengers intrigue me enough that I invite them to come forward for conversation.' He put his gaze back on the river.

Alise's heart was beating faster and her cheeks were warm. She could not decide if she were flattered or frightened. Was the ship implying that he'd been aware of their conversation about dragons? He was 'intrigued' by her, a high compliment from a creature that should have been a dragon. Yet beneath that giddy feeling of being recognized by such a magnificent being roiled the uneasiness of what Sedric had forced her to recall. This was Paragon, the mad ship, once better known as the Pariah. All sorts of rumours had circulated about him in Bingtown, but that he had killed his entire crew not once but several times was no rumour but undeniable fact. It was only now, speaking to him, watching how he alone seemed to determine his course up the river that she realized how completely in his power she was. It was only now that she realized just how truly alive a liveship was. This was a dangerous creature, to be treated with both caution and respect.

As if he had read her thoughts, Paragon turned his head and bared his white teeth in a smile. It sent a shiver up her spine. She recalled that his original boyish face had been damaged, chopped to pieces; some said by pirates, while others believed his own crew had done it. But someone had re-carved the splintered wood into the visage of a handsome if scarred young man. The youthfulness of that human face collided with her mental image of Paragon as a wise and ancient dragon. The contrast unsettled her. As a result, her words were more stiffly formal than she intended when she asked, 'Of what did you wish to speak to me?'

He was unruffled. 'Of dragons. And liveships. I've heard gossip that you are headed up river, not just to Trehaug, which is the end of my run, but beyond the deep water and up to Cassarick. Is that true?'

Gossip? she wanted to ask him. Instead she replied, 'Yes. That's true. I'm something of a scholar of dragons and Elderlings, and the purpose of my journey is to see the young dragons for myself. I wish to study them. I hope to be able to interview them and ask them what ancestral memories they have of Elderlings.' She smiled, pleased with herself as she added, 'I'm actually a bit surprised to discover that no one before me has thought to do this.'

'They probably have, but discovered it was a waste of time to try to speak to those wretched animals.'

'I beg your pardon?' His dismissal of the young dragons shocked her.

'They're no more dragons than I am,' Paragon replied carelessly. When he glanced back at her this time, his eyes were storm-cloud grey. 'Haven't you heard? They're cripples, one and all. They were badly formed when they emerged from their cases and time has not improved them. The serpents were too long in the sea, far, far too long. And when they did finally migrate, they arrived badly nourished at the wrong time of the year. They should have come up the river in late summer, encased, and had plenty of fat and all of winter to change. Instead they were thin, tired, and old beyond counting. They arrived late, and spent too short a time in their cases. More than half of them are already dead from what I hear, and the rest soon to follow. Studying them will teach you nothing about real dragons.' He was looking away from her, staring upriver. When he shook his head, his curling black hair danced with the motion. In a lower voice he added, 'True dragons would scorn such creatures. Just as they would scorn me.'