"Stop that," she said, and flattened her other hand on his chest. "You're sick."

"Not that sick," he answered.

"Oh, really? You're as green as Wynn's lentil stew, and your breath… is terrible."

He stared at her. "How flattering."

"Rest!" She shoved him back down on the bunk. "I'll stay with you."

Leesil's stomach clenched as his back hit the bed, but he still frowned, feeling petulant.

"We're sharing quarters with Wynn and Chap… and this could be our last moment alone for a while."

Magiere rolled her dark brown eyes with a huff, as if to respond, but then she spun about and tensed, staring toward the door.

"What-?" Leesil began.

Magiere lunged up, snatching her falchion as she flung open the cabin door.

Somewhere above, Leesil heard Wynn shouting.

In the scant lantern light, Wynn sat cross-legged upon the deck facing Osha and tried to focus on Dreug'an, an elven draught game borrowed from the hkomas's steward. Osha was determined to teach her to play, but Wynn's thoughts kept wandering.

The ship's strange thrum vibrated under her buttocks, making it impossible to pay attention. And Chap's disgruntled huffs every time she made a move did not help either.

"Do you want to play for me?" she asked.

Chap licked his nose at her, but no reply entered her thoughts.

Sgaile still leaned on the port side, staring out into the darkness. Off the starboard, the tree-lined coast slipped by at a rapid pace.

Wynn sighed and stood up. "I need to stretch my legs."

Even on her feet, she was little taller than Osha on his knees. He started to rise, and she waved him back down.

"No, stay. I will not go far."

Osha frowned, caught between having to watch over her and yet not wanting to impose.

"I will return shortly," she assured him and strolled off toward the aft.

The hkomas had stayed in the aftcastle for much of the voyage so far, and the crew kept busy all over the ship. Wynn had avoided snooping about, knowing her presence was unwelcome. As night came, the hkomas retired and much of the crew went off duty, leaving the deck fairly deserted. Wynn wanted to peek about.

The absence of planks in the deck still astonished her. A crewman sat on a barrel, just as solidly one piece, though it showed far more sign of wear than the deck. He was weaving smooth pieces of cord into a stout rope. As Wynn passed, he spun atop the barrel to face away, and she knew better than to try chatting with him.

She crept idly toward the stern, and the rhythmic thrum beneath her feet seemed to grow. Reaching the aftcastle ladder, she saw its steps worn by years of use-unlike the deck-and she climbed halfway to peer over the top.

Three large lanterns lit up the aftcastle. A male elf loosely gripped the large wheel of the helm. He was stout and solid-or at least wide compared to others of his kind. Many of the crew cropped their hair short, but his sandy locks hung to his shoulders with the bangs cut just above the eyes.

The pilot's large eyes narrowed upon Wynn, and then he returned to silently gazing ahead. Since he had not openly rebuked her, Wynn crept up onto the aftcastle, purposefully ignoring him in turn.

The rhythmic thrum lessened, and she wondered where it came from and if the height of the aftcastle dulled it. She kept to the rail-wall, as far from the pilot as possible. Before she reached the ship's stern, she began to make out its wake under the dangling aft lanterns. Even a fast vessel under a heavy wind would not swirl the water so.

Foam-laced ripples trailed away behind the ship into the dark, and Wynn glanced suspiciously upward. The sails were still billowing but not full, so the wind was not that strong. And yet the vessel's speed was enough to leave a visible wake. Wynn leaned over the aftcastle's rear, peering downward, and sucked in a loud breath. She grabbed the rail-wall and froze.

Water boiled out from beneath the elven ship. Under the sea's roiling surface, she saw twin rudders set wide apart, unlike on human ships-and something moved in the dark water between the twin blades.

A massive ribbon rippled below the ship's wake.

Wynn raised her eyes, tracing it out more than two skiffs' lengths behind the stern. It wormed like the tail of something massive swimming below the hull.

"Osha!" Wynn screamed, and backed up. "Get Sgaile!"

She turned as Chap leaped onto the aftcastle's deck with a snarl. He cast a threatening glance at the pilot before he spotted her. Osha appeared immediately behind Chap.

"What?" he asked in alarm. "Are you injured?"

"A sea beast!" Wynn shouted. "It is pacing us under the ship!"

She had barely drawn a second breath when Sgaile hurried up the aftcastle's steps. Just as Osha reached Wynn, the hkomas, his steward, and two crew members emerged from the stairwells below the aftcastle.

And then Magiere came running along the deck from the forward stairs with Leesil close behind.

Sgaile headed straight for Osha, grunting to the hkomas in quick Elvish that Wynn did not catch. Osha looked over the rail-wall and then turned around. He shook his head, glancing at Wynn in worried confusion.

"Can you not see it?" she insisted. "Look down… there… in the water!"

The pilot lashed the wheel, then stepped back and leaned over the aft. He straightened, and a glower spread over his face as he looked to his hkomas.

"Weakblood… makes for addled wits," he said in Elvish.

Weakblood-lhagshuil-was their scornful word for humans. Wynn curled one hand into a small fist.

"Maybe you should cut your hair higher… and further out of your eyes!" She shoved the pilot aside and pushed in at the stern next to Osha and pointed downward. "Osha, look there. You cannot possibly miss it!"

Osha sheathed his blade with a sigh.

"It is all right," Sgaile said in Elvish, with little patience in his voice. "She mistook the ship's root-tail."

"Tail?" Wynn said.

She spun to find him speaking to the hkomas, but the captain stood his ground, gazing expectantly at Sgaile. Magiere and Leesil reached the aftcastle deck, and Magiere came straight to Wynn, falchion in her grip.

"What happened?" Magiere demanded. "Did somebody try to hurt you?"

"Magiere… please," Sgaile pleaded, and gestured with an open hand toward her sword.

"I am all right," Wynn said, but she glared at Sgaile. "What tail?"

"It is part of the ship's function," Sgaile said. "What you call… propulsion. This is how we move so quickly, despite mild winds."

Chap hooked forepaws over the stern's rail-wall, peering down, and Wynn looked again.

The long and shadowed shape snaked behind the ship in the dark water, but as much as it seemed to swim behind the vessel, it drew no closer. Wynn flushed with embarrassment and cast a dark look at Chap.

"Why did you not tell me?" she whispered.

I did not know. I never saw an elven ship as a pup, nor in the memories of those in the enclave where I was born.

"Ah, seven hells," Leesil grumbled, still pallid and clammy-looking. "Wynn, we thought you were in trouble-instead of poking about again!"

Magiere sheathed her sword and stepped closer, but when she looked down, the same shock Wynn had experienced passed across her pale features. "Leesil, come look at this."

"I don't think so!" he growled, gripping the aftcastle's front rail-wall.

Wynn shook her head. "My apologies. Our ships do not have such propulsion mechanisms."

Osha nodded beside her. "No… human ship not alive."

Wynn looked up at his long face, uncertain if she had understood his broken Belaskian correctly.

"What are you saying?" Magiere hissed.

Wynn spun around beside Osha.

Magiere backed away from the stern. Her shoulder brushed the helm-wheel, and she lurched away from it. She cast her wide-eyed gaze about with each hesitant step, as if she were weaponless and surrounded by some unseen threat.