"Yes, two small rooms below," she answered. "A'harhk'nis and Kurhkage can share one, you and I the other."

He nodded, turning from the rail-wall to find the other two members of his team sitting on the cargo hold's grate.

A'harhk'nis-Most Changeable-was unusually silent, even for a member of their caste. He was a skilled tracker, with wild eyes and unruly hair. Though he carried anmaglahk stilettos, his preferred weapons were more brutal. In his belt at the small of his back he carried a pair of bone knives as large as sickles, their curved blades as wide as a human's sword. He preferred his clothing loose and wore oversized breeches. Even with his cloak corners tied about his waist, it billowed around him.

Hkuan'duv turned his eyes upon the last of his chosen.

Kurhkage-Sandpiper-was unremarkable but for his missing left eye and his stature. Lack of depth perception did not appear to affect him, and he came from the same clan as Brot'an'duive, sharing his oversized build. He had spent years in the human region south of the eastern coast, known as the Ylladon States. Kurhkage was calculating and tactical, but his experiences among those loosely allied city-states of marauders had left him bitter.

Ylladon ships sometimes grew daring and raided the lower reaches of the an'Croan coastline. Shortly after Kurhkage completed his tutelage, he headed south with two others on his first purpose. As the trio stopped over in the most southern an'Croan coastal community, the village was raided. Kurhkage lost his eye in that fight, but not one Ylladon marauder escaped.

Hkuan'duv was certain of his choices. Only Danvarfij troubled him a little. She was the most well-rounded in skills and training, but during their years together, he had grown… content in her company.

After they parted, a year passed before Hkuan'duv felt at peace. He had no wish to go through such an adjustment again.

Kurhkage stalked over. He refused to wear an eye patch, and his left eye socket had healed into rough lumps of flesh.

"The hkomas asks when we will leave," he said. "He seems anxious over the growing distance between our ship and theirs."

Hkuan'duv nodded. He sympathized with the hkomas, who now followed the "requests" of the Anmaglahk.

"Soon," he answered. "I wish to give our quarry some distance."

Earlier, the crew had prepared the ship. With little to do but wait, several of them cast curious glances at Hkuan'duv and his companions. Another twinge of discomfort passed through him.

All an'Croan revered the Anmaglahk, who served to protect them. The ships of seafaring clans sometimes carried one or more into human territories, but the Anmaglahk were only along for the ride. A team of four, led by a Greimasg'ah who made decisions and gave orders to the crew's hkomas, was unprecedented.

Hkuan'duv looked out into the dark harbor. It was time, and he glanced at Danvarfij, her loose hair wafting softly around her long angular face.

"I will give the word," she said, knowing his mind as quickly as he did.

"Tell the hkomas to fall off if he sees a hint of sails ahead. We must not be seen."

Danvarfij headed for the helm at the ship's rear.

Soon, the iridescent sails fell open and filled with the breeze, and the deck began to softly thrum beneath Hkuan'duv's feet. The ship slipped quietly out of harbor and to the east, never far from the coastline.

Danvarfij finally returned. "Your mind still runs in circles."

Hkuan'duv frowned. So far, he had told his companions little about their purpose. He breathed a troubled sigh as he gestured toward the hatch.

"Get the others and come," he said. "I will tell you all I can."

By the voyage's second dusk, Leesil lay in a bunk below deck, unable to get up.

So far, he'd kept down only small sips of water. Having been through this once before, he knew enough not to eat. Dizziness and nausea rolled in his head and stomach with the ship's relentless teetering. The light of the one dangling lantern shifted upon the cabin walls. He closed his eyes and quickly opened them again. Darkness only made him feel worse.

The cabin was small but well designed. Its walls were smooth, with no sign of individual planks, and pairs of ledges for bunks were shaped on both of the room's sides. High-set porthole openings in the outer wall were sealed with brass-framed glass hatches.

The cabin's short oval door cracked inward, and Magiere ducked her head in. "How are you feeling?"

"I'd rather ride fifty leagues on a half-mad horse," he groaned.

She came in, carrying a bowl of water and a rag for his head.

Magiere's caretaking was the one and only part of this sea voyage preferable to the last. Leesil had to admit that he enjoyed her attention. She sat beside him and dipped the rag without removing her gloves. Her hand was shaking just slightly.

He reached out to touch it. "Are you all right?"

During their time within the elven forest, Magiere had suffered from trembling and anxiety whenever she entered one of the tree dwellings. They hadn't known why, until she'd lost all control in Nein'a's prison clearing. And in that fight with their anmaglahk escort, her bare hands had touched and marked a birch tree.

Since boarding, Magiere had shown signs of the same manifestations she'd suffered in the elven forest, although they were far from its shore.

"It's not as bad," she answered. "Probably just this nagging instinct to keep going… to reach wherever we're headed."

Magiere had finally removed her hauberk and wore only her loose white shirt and breeches, with her hair bound back to keep it from her eyes in the wind.

"Something odd happened a little while ago," she said. "Sgaile politely related that the captain thinks it best that we stay on this end of the ship while below deck."

"A suggestion or a threat?" Leesil asked.

"One's as good as the other with these people."

He laid his head back as Magiere applied the damp rag to his forehead and looked up at the smooth seamless ceiling. Such a warning only made him want to go nosing about, but his stomach rolled on another list of the ship.

"Where is everyone else?" he asked, seeking any distraction.

"On deck. Sgaile is just staring out to sea. Osha borrowed some kind of game from a sailor and is teaching Wynn to play. Chap's watching them without much interest, but I'm betting he understands the strategy better than Osha."

Leesil tried to smile. "This is the first time we've been alone since boarding."

Magiere didn't seem to hear him. She gazed at the cabin wall-or perhaps through it to somewhere far away.

"We'll round the corner of the continent soon," he said.

She blinked. "What? Oh, I was thinking about… home. The new tables… the hearth, even that old burned sword hanging above it. We barely had time to settle in after the rebuild."

Leesil rolled toward her on his side. "Yes, home. A nice thought."

"If we ever reach it, if we are able to stay, if we don't learn any more of ourselves that we don't want to know."

The warm image of home faded from Leesil's mind. Why did she keep bringing up the reason his mother had created and trained him-to use him as a tool against some unknown adversary the elves believed would return?

"We make our own fate," he snapped. "No one changes that."

Magiere dropped her eyes suddenly, and Leesil regretted his angry tone. He should be grateful she shared her worries with him so openly. But he stood by his words.

They did make their own fate. No matter what name a pack of ghosts placed upon him, the only person he would "champion" was Magiere.

She still gripped his fingers in one gloved hand, and he reached out with his other hand to trace the line of her jaw. Her face was so perfect to him. He sat up to kiss her, and his stomach lurched.