Emriana was stunned. "Oh, they're beautiful!" she breathed, tentatively reaching out and removing one. It felt exactly right in her hands, balanced perfectly.

"They're throwing daggers, and they've been enchanted," Xaphira explained. "Once you master the art of using them, you'll be hard-pressed to find their equal."

"Thank you!" Emriana said, running her finger along the blade lovingly. "I don't know what to say!" She felt so happy; she thought she was going to cry.

"Say, 'I will work hard with you to learn how to use them, Aunt Xaphira,'" the woman said, mimicking Emriana's own voice. She closed the box and held it out toward her niece.

"Oh, I will!" Emriana said, taking the box from her aunt and cradling it. "I will! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome. Now, are you ready to ride?" When Emriana nodded enthusiastically, Xaphira smirked. "Last one to the rope swing is a meazel!" she shouted then put her heels into Dancer, who launched forward, eager for a run.

Laughing, Emriana kicked Honey and charged after them.

The two riders raced across an open field and toward a line of trees, Xaphira perhaps five lengths ahead. There was a trail there leading through the woods toward a swimming hole, and Emriana's aunt disappeared into the foliage along that route. The younger girl was close behind and gaining.

Dancer kicked up great clods of dirt and leaves into the air as Xaphira guided the horse along the wooded trail at a full gallop. Emriana, following closely behind, had to duck low against her mount's neck to avoid the flying debris. Taking such cover slowed her progress, though, and her aunt began to pull away. Grimacing, the girl heeled Honey to pick up the pace when they reached a straightaway along the path, hoping to close the gap and possibly even pass her quarry.

Suddenly, Xaphira drew rein and swerved to one side, sending Dancer through an opening in the undergrowth and across a dry streambed in a single leap. Emriana could not react quickly enough to follow without risking a stumble by Honey, and with only a heartbeat's hesitation, she relented, shooting past the turn and onward, remembering a second crossing a number of paces ahead.

You're not winning today, Emriana thought, glancing through the trees at her aunt, who was on the far side of the streambed and once again paralleling it, a little behind the girl's position. "Come on, Honey," she urged her horse. "Let's go, girl."

As if understanding her rider's urgency perfectly, the dun leaned hard into its gallop, surging ahead a little more. The path narrowed and turned slightly, and Emriana ducked low again to avoid the branches and vines that whipped past her head. The horse and rider became almost one, a single, fluid entity navigating the forest in harmony.

Emriana noted a familiar shadowtop trunk, large and dead, split long ago by lightning, and knew the crossover was only a few more paces ahead. She risked another glance back over her shoulder, hoping that she and Honey had enlarged the gap sufficiently that, when she crossed the streambed, they would be able to cut off Xaphira and Dancer. Her aunt was not in sight.

Emriana gave a subtle smile. That's it, she thought proudly. We've got her.

The break in the bushes and vines appeared ahead, and Emriana slowed her horse the slightest bit, just enough to make the turn safely.

"Em! Stop!" Xaphira called from behind her.

Em darted a quick look in that direction and saw her aunt in the streambed itself, still astride Dancer, though the horse had slowed and was rearing up on its hind legs.

Emriana hesitated, hearing the urgency in her aunt's voice, but Honey knew the route well and didn't respond when the girl began to draw on the reins. The horse slashed through the gap at just the right angle, clearing the bank of the streambed in a single bound. In her indecision, Emriana was not ready for the leap, and she was jostled awkwardly in the saddle, bouncing hard when Honey landed. She felt herself sliding off the horse, losing her grip and flailing wildly.

Her misfortune probably saved Emriana's life, for at that moment a blurred, golden-brown shape sailed silently over her head, fangs and claws flashing through the air where she would have been otherwise.

"That could be trouble," Adyan Mercatio drawled, moving to stand next to Vambran Matrell near the bow of Lady's Favor and pointing out over the waters of the Vilhon Reach. The lieutenant glanced at his sergeant and saw Adyan grimacing. The expression caused a scar that ran from the middle of the man's chin to the left side of his jaw to crease and glow white in the morning sun. Vambran followed Adyan's gaze toward the horizon and shaded his own eyes as he stared, squinting against the sea spray, at what the sergeant had spotted.

Two ships, fast cutters by the looks of them, had just rounded a spit of rocky shoals jutting out from the Chondathan coast, headed directly for Lady's Favor. Vambran put his spyglass to his eye and took a closer look, scanning the rigging for a flag or standard. There were none.

Using his glass to study the decks of the two ships, Vambran began counting men. In addition to the sailors scampering about in the rigging and across the decks, a number of others stood idly, watching. There were perhaps two dozen such individuals on each ship. Vambran even caught sight of a man peering through a glass just like his, seeming to stare straight back at him. The other man, tall and skinny and dressed in a long blue coat and a crimson hat, pointed right at the lieutenant and said something to a companion, a shorter, rotund fellow in a sleeveless tunic.

"Trouble, indeed," Vambran said, turning and handing his glass to Adyan. "Corsairs, it appears, for they show no colors."

Adyan put the glass to his own eye and peered across the waves. "Well, they sure seem to find us very interesting," the sergeant said, studying the two ships, which had closed the distance considerably since the two mercenaries had first spotted them. "Damn."

"Exactly," Vambran replied as he spun about, intent on finding Captain Za'hure. "Trouble, indeed," he repeated.

Before Vambran was halfway across the forecastle, someone was already shouting orders from somewhere aft, and sailors were scurrying every which way, running to adjust the rigging and shift the sails. Vambran could already feel Lady's Favor lean as she began to change direction, turning so she could catch the wind more fully in her sails. The move was taking the ship farther out into the Reach, away from the coast and the two approaching cutters.

"Captain Za'hure," Vambran called when he spotted the short, barrel-chested man stroking his long, curly sideburns and quietly issuing instructions to his first mate. Za'hure turned to regard the lieutenant, his bushy eyebrows furrowed impatiently. "Aye?"

"Why are you headed into deeper waters?" Vambran demanded. "Our orders are to make best time to Cimbar, and we're still three days out, by your own reckoning."

One of Za'hure's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And what good will that be doing us, if we slink into port with an empty hold?" the captain asked. "We've got pirates on our tail, Lieutenant."

"Surely you don't think two ships are enough to bother us?" Vambran asked, gesturing back over the starboard side of Lady's Favor, where the pair he had spotted earlier were still closing. "I've got an entire company of Crescents on board."

"And while your company be dancing with those dogs, who'll be tending to the louts on the other four ships?" Za'hure countered, pointing back over his own shoulder.

Vambran felt a cold feeling grow in the pit of his stomach as he peered past the captain toward the stern, where four more cutters were visible, pursuing them out to sea. "Six," he breathed, stunned.