"A third now… the rest when we reach the first port on your route."

The helmsman repeated, and the captain returned a question.

"Why is you out here, where is nothing?" the helmsman asked.

"Not your concern," Welstiel returned. "My people will stay below deck, and we are not to be disturbed. We have our own food and water, so we will be no more burden than the rest of your… cargo. Passage is all we require."

The captain and helmsman broke into a quick and sharp exchange, and then the captain looked at Welstiel and nodded once. The helmsman held out his hand, and Welstiel rendered up his smaller pouch containing nearly all his true coin. When he reached for the globe, not offered as down payment, the captain curled it back in his grip and turned away.

The helmsman merely smirked.

Welstiel understood this game. The captain accepted the bargain, but now he would wait. Once his passengers were aboard in the hold, it would be far easier to take all of their possessions. No one would even find the bodies, sunk to the sea bottom.

"My name Klatas. You get people," the helmsman encouraged. "We leave soon."

Welstiel decided to stay and keep his eyes on these men. He also knew how Chane longed for real blood.

"Bring the others," he told Chane, "but only as far as the turn into the cove. Keep them away from the camp until it is time to board."

Welstiel found it puzzling that his ferals obeyed Chane in most things, especially the young female. As Chane disappeared down the beach, passing a returning Ylladon scout, Welstiel backed toward the water and away from the skiffs to consider his options.

Magiere traveled south, but she had not come this far, judging by her position in his last scrying. Whatever might come, he could not allow her to get away from him. If she stopped short and headed inland, he would have to force the Ylladon ship to turn back north. But that was not likely, since the impassable Blade Range separated the eastern from the western coast. Magiere was far more likely to sail onward beyond the range's southern end, where it broke into the scattered rugged terrain of the Pock Peaks. It was the only place he could think of that she might enter the high mountains on foot. If that was her plan, her ship might eventually catch up to Welstiel's, and then he would have harder decisions to make.

Sgaile pulled in the oars and stood up as the skiff floated in beside the ship. No one had spoken since they pushed off the beach, and both Magiere and Leshil had been unusually quiet during their three-day return. Chap was fully recovered, much to Sgaile's relief, but he dwelled on the gifts that the "burning" one had brought-and for whom the last two were intended.

Leshil had not taken his new blades from their canvas wrap. Those weapons, so like his own, were disturbing enough to Sgaile, but they were nothing compared to the items presented to Magiere: a war blade made of Chein'as metal and a strange heavy circlet.

Sgaile had thought long and hard on this as he led Leshil and Magiere out of the granite foothills. Brot'an'duive could not have known Magiere would force her way into this journey, for the Greimasg'ah's instructions only concerned Leshil. Yet somehow the Chein'as had known she would come.

What was the hidden meaning behind these strange gifts, and the way that dark little one had looked at her with such pain? Its expression had reflected that of the seyilf who had appeared at Magiere's hearing before the clan elders and claimed an impossible shared heritage with her.

One night in the granite foothills, Sgaile had heard Magiere mutter fitfully in her sleep and then sit up, breathing hard. He remained silent, watching her through the slits of his eyelids, until she finally curled up under the blanket with Leshil.

They were all traveling south to find an object for these human "sages," but Magiere was much more involved than she admitted. Sgaile now felt as though he were the one being dragged along blindfolded.

"They are back!" a glad voice shouted from above. "Osha, quickly- come help!"

Sgaile glanced up to see Wynn's smiling face hanging over the ship's rail-wall. Osha appeared beside her an instant later.

"Hold on," Osha called, and a crewman tossed down lines.

Sgaile stepped around Chap to secure the skiff's prow. When he turned back, Magiere had done the same at the stern. About to reach down for his pack and the canvas bundle of gifts, he saw Leshil had already picked up the latter.

It was the first time he had touched them since leaving the tunnels. Sgaile could not comprehend Leshil's reluctance.

Leshil handed off the bundle to Magiere and crouched as Chap approached him.

"I will carry him," Sgaile said quickly.

Leshil's face clouded, but he nodded. "I'll head up and help haul him over. Magiere, go ahead."

Magiere climbed up, and then Leshil, and Sgaile crouched to offer his back to Chap.

"Please allow me to assist you," he whispered.

With a soft rumble, Chap hooked his forelegs over Sgaile's shoulders, bracing his rear paws on Sgaile's belt. The dog was heavy and made climbing the rope ladder precarious. When they reached the top, Wynn scrambled into Sgaile's way.

"I will get him," she said cheerfully, reaching out.

At the sight of her, Chap lunged.

The dog's push-off flattened Sgaile onto the deck's edge. When Chap's weight lifted from Sgaile's back, he climbed through the rail-wall's opening and paused at the sight before him.

Wynn sat with legs splayed where she had toppled, and clutched the majay-hi's neck. Chap lapped at her face as she laughed.

"I missed you!" Wynn said, grabbing his face by the jowls.

Sgaile shook his head. At least it was heartening to see this ancient one's hidden burdens lifted for a moment.

"Greetings, Sgailsheilleache," Osha said. "It is welcome to see you."

"Osha!" Wynn grumbled at him.

He groaned with a roll of his eyes and repeated his welcome in Belaskian.

The hkomas strode over, displeased as ever, and Sgaile steeled himself to remain polite. The ship and its keeper had remained idle for six unexpected days on this well-kept route between the coastal communities.

"We pull anchor," the hkomas said. "We are far behind schedule for our next stop."

"Of course," Sgaile answered. "If I can assist in-"

The hkomas turned on his heel and began shouting to his crew.

A cold gust rolled across the deck, and Wynn crossed her arms with a shiver as she stood up. Osha immediately opened his cloak, stepping closer, and Wynn slipped in against his side as he pulled the cloak's edge about her.

Sgaile stared silently, as did Magiere and Leshil, but the two young ones did not notice everyone's attention fixed upon them.

"Hungry?" Wynn asked, peering from beneath Osha's gray-green cloak. "Have you had supper?"

In the lingering silence, both Wynn and Osha finally noticed the tension around them.

"We need to get below," Magiere said, still holding the bundle of gifts. "Now, Wynn."

Some of the crew paused amid their duties, casting displeased and troubled glances at the returned foreigners. One stopped altogether to watch them. The continued interest of this young woman, the hkomas's steward, did not escape Sgaile's awareness.

Osha swept back his cloak as Wynn hurried after Magiere. Leshil and Chap followed. Sgaile watched with mixed feelings as they headed for the aft hatch. He prayed that Chap would keep his oath.

Uncertainty was a foreign state of mind for Sgaile, and lately he had been perpetually lost in it. He believed in his self-chosen purpose to protect Leshil. But Magiere's presence nagged at him. Between the seyilf's claims at Magiere's hearing and the gifts and actions of the emissary at the fissure's edge, Sgaile wondered what role Magiere played in Leshil's future.