In a brief glimpse of the burning elven ship, his thoughts filled with the image of Wynn's oval, olive-toned face. Then he sank beneath the cold, dark water.

"Sgaile!" Leesil shouted from the skiff's front, one hand gripping its upturned prow.

He searched the ocean swells with Osha crouched beside him.

Magiere and Chap sat in the back with Wynn, now wrapped in her coat, as two elven sailors pulled on the oars. At least two other skiffs headed for shore, but not this one. Leesil had turned their small vessel southward, parallel to the coast and back along the marauder vessel's course.

"He's got to be out here," Leesil said tightly. "He's too much of a pain in the ass to end up dead."

"Yes," Osha answered. "We find him."

But the young elf looked no more certain of his claim than Leesil. And Sgaile was indeed a pain in the ass.

Leesil was sick of the way the man looked at him, as if he was supposed to do something that Sgaile wouldn't actually say. All the man's superstitious nonsense about ancestors and his people's old ways did little more than complicate Leesil's life-or hint at a life he wanted no part of. Now that self-righteous, long-boned, sour-faced throat-cutter-that idiot-had thrown himself overboard to save someone he didn't even know.

But… Leesil couldn't let him die out here.

Chap barked, and Leesil's grip tightened on the prow as the skiff crested another swell.

"There!" Wynn cried.

She pointed beyond where Chap clung to the skiff's edge with one fore-paw. Out in the water, Leesil caught a flash of white.

"Sgaile!" he shouted again, and looked down to Osha. "Tell the crewmen to turn us that way!"

Before Osha finished rattling off instructions to the elves, that light spot in the water rose again.

Sgaile swam on his side as he towed the elven woman floating on her back. He looked exhausted and pale, with his wet hair flattened around his head and face.

"Here!" Leesil cried out. "Osha, get us alongside of him."

Sgaile paused, lifting his head. When he spotted the skiff, he redoubled his efforts.

Osha pressed in beside Leesil, speaking Elvish to the two oarsmen.

"We'll take the woman back here," Magiere called out, and pulled Wynn and Chap from the side. "You take Sgaile up front."

The elven crewmen turned the skiff sharply as it rolled down a swell, and then shipped their oars. Sgaile closed with two final strokes and reached for the skiff.

Magiere leaned over the side, but the woman hardly moved, unable to help herself. One elven crewman knelt to assist, and they pulled her over the edge.

Leesil grabbed Sgaile's arm as Osha took hold of his belt, and they dragged him in. He collapsed on the skiff's bottom, soaked and shivering.

"Blankets, coats!" Leesil shouted. "Get me something to cover him!"

Osha stripped off his cloak and threw it over Sgaile as Magiere dug among their belongings. She tossed Leesil his coat then spread her own over the woman. Wynn started to remove her coat.

"No," Magiere said. "All you've got is your shift under that."

The crewmen took up the oars and began rowing hard for the shore.

Leesil struggled to pull off Sgaile's soaked tunic and wrap him in the coat. He spread Osha's cloak over the top as Sgaile leaned back into the prow's cubby, still shaking uncontrollably. Sgaile snapped a long string of Elvish through chattering teeth.

Osha stared back at him, stunned motionless. Leesil couldn't follow Sgaile's words, but he understood the tone.

"It is not Osha's fault!" Wynn cried out. "And he was protecting us!"

"Yes," Osha added sharply. "We find you… jeoin."

"Don't blame him!" Leesil snapped at Sgaile. "You're the fool who jumped overboard in the middle of an assault. And he wasn't the only one who chose to come searching for your waterlogged carcass."

Sgaile struggled to sit up. His gaze slipped from the rowing crewmen to Magiere. He seemed to look her over, or look for something in her face; then he settled back, exhausted.

Leesil plopped down beside Osha, shaking his head. For an instant, he entertained the notion of tossing Sgaile back overboard.

The notion passed.

Wynn huddled with Magiere and Chap in the skiff's rear. The thundering cracks behind them had ceased as the other ship sank below the surface. But the elven vessel drifted slowly, still burning alive.

She pressed her hands over her face, trying not to cry.

When she dropped them down, the others were repeatedly glancing behind the skiff with somber eyes. She heard the hissing crackle of water meeting fire but could not look.

The elven woman lying at her feet coughed and sputtered but looked as if she would survive. She curled on her side, closed her eyes, and began to sob softly. Her tears were lost in the seawater clinging to her long triangular face.

No one spoke the rest of the way to shore.

When the crewmen shipped the oars and jumped into the surf, Wynn spotted three other skiffs on the beach. Torches had been lit and planted nearby. Leesil and Osha jumped out as well. Other elven crew came out, and they all pulled together until the skiff came to rest upon the gravelly shore.

Chap hopped out, and Wynn climbed after him.

She saw familiar faces among those present, though she knew none of the crew's names. She was relieved to see that the hkomas had survived. His left arm and one side of his face were seared, but he appeared not to notice. Two of the crew hurried in to help the rescued woman from the skiff.

One bowed his head slightly as Sgaile staggered out and Osha helped him to a dry spot on the beach.

Wynn tried to count those who had survived. Just beyond the hkomas stood the girl with the thick braid and oversized boots, whom Wynn had learned was his steward.

"Sgailsheilleache…," the hkomas said and faltered.

He gave no thanks for Sgaile's actions, nor did he commend him for his courage. Anmaglahk did not expect thanks-that much Wynn had learned from her time in Sgaile's company.

Out in the distance, lingering flames from the elven ship flickered upon the water. And then they were gone. Wynn felt the mood around her change as relief sank into mourning.

"May your ancestors take you and watch over you," the hkomas whispered, looking out over the surf and into the empty darkness.

Feeling helpless, Wynn mouthed this same Elvish epitaph for the living ship.

The hkomas's face darkened as he turned upon Magiere.

"Who were they?" he demanded. "Even Ylladon do not charge us in a reckless assault… just to kill our Pairvanean at such cost to themselves."

Magiere could not follow his Elvish, but she stood her ground, returning his glare. Sgaile climbed to his feet, wobbling as he stepped between them.

"She knows nothing more than we do," he said.

"I saw her on deck!" the hkomas growled back. "She sensed something coming… as did the majay-hi."

"Such debate will not help us now," Sgaile countered. "Were you able to send a distress call?"

The hkomas's suspicious gaze stayed on Magiere. "Yes. I reached a sister vessel of my clan. She is a scant two days out of Ghoivne Ajhajhe… a long distance north."

Sgaile nodded with little relief. "She will send word at the next harbor and locate a closer ship. Our people will come."

At this, the young steward fidgeted behind her hkomas and glanced northward.

Osha stepped in, turning to the hkomas. "We must hide the skiffs and get our people off this beach… and see to our wounded. Anything else should wait until morning."

Everyone fell silent at this calm but solid counsel, and finally the hkomas nodded. Both Magiere and Leesil silently watched this exchange, and Wynn felt sudden shame in forgetting to translate for them.

"I will tell you later," she said. "Osha wants to get the boats off the beach and find shelter further inland."