Quickly she rifled the pockets of Patric's well-made clothing, finding identity papers that might be useful. These she stuffed into her blouse. Kitiara grabbed some of Patric's clothes and wadded them into one of his medium-sized traveling bags. She tugged and tinkered with the lock of his massive chest, then tried to break it open with the handle of her knife, but it barely showed a mark from her efforts. Happily, Kit found a small bag of gems in the heel of one of Patric's spare boots. This, too, she stuffed into the bag, which she finally tied over her shoulder.

Dropping to her knees, Kit found Beck's sword under the bed, wedged between a plank and the wall. She took it out, made sure it was padded with covering, and strapped it across her back.

Last, Kit went over to where Patric was lying, removed the necklace she was still wearing, and draped it on his body. Fair's fair, she thought to herself. And she didn't want that reminder of him and his mother.

Stealing out into the deserted corridor, Kitiara listened to the continuing chaos up on deck and realized that the time to act was now, when the storm was at its peak and people were distracted.

Kit took a deep breath and climbed the stairs as inconspicuously as possible. Men were dashing back and forth, tying ropes and shouting directions at each other. The ship was lurching violently, and Kit was thrown to the deck once or twice before she gained her balance.

Thunder crashed and lightning split the sky. The bolts illuminated, for a brief instant, La Cava at the helm. The captain screamed orders to a phalanx of his drenched crew.

Kit was correct in guessing that nobody would notice her in the midst of such turmoil.

Often stumbling, Kitiara made her way to the bow of the boat. The shoreline was, at most, ten miles away, and Kit thought she had a good chance of making it, even in the storm.

A glance at the sky told her that the thunderheads were breaking up. The worst was over.

Stripping off her boots, Kit stuck them in her pouch, then made sure that everything was tied tightly to her body. She climbed up on the railing and, without glancing backward, jumped.

The cold, turbulent waves hit her with the force of solid stone, nearly knocking her out. But before Kit's brain could go numb, she was already swimming, a speck in the water moving slowly but inexorably away from the ship.

"Man overboard!" was the last thing she heard.

The storm sucked all the light and color from the sea. The waves looked black as they crashed down on Kitiara, again and again. She struggled to keep her head above water. Her arms flailed until they were numb.

Hours passed.

Weighted down by the sword strapped to her back, Kit could barely summon the strength to kick her legs. Her whole being felt waterlogged. Kit had swallowed so much seawater that she retched violently as the waves rolled over her, not for the first time that night.

Luckily, Kitiara had managed to grab hold of a small wooden barrel that whirled past her in the water. Its buoyancy was the only thing keeping her afloat now-that and her determination not to let go of it.

The storm raged much longer than Kit had guessed it would when she jumped overboard. She had long ago lost sight of the ship, but had no idea whether she was still pointed toward shore or how far away the shore was. Although the storm had subsided, the cloud-darkened sky did not offer any hint of dawn.

Kit's cheek rested against the barrel's rough timber. Her tongue had swollen so that it felt twice its normal size inside a mouth that was parched of all moisture. Her lips were rimmed with salt residue. A bone-tiredness overtook her. Kit's eyes closed. She didn't care anymore.

Instantly, images of Crystalmir Lake flooded her mind, its surface glittering with sunlight, waves lapping at the shore, a day peaceful and perfect…

A hundred stinging needles jolted her awake. Her leg screamed in pain. Something was attacking her. Kit could see little beneath the waves, but she gritted her teeth and kicked hard at whatever it was.

Kit came in contact with something cold and slimy. Twisting around, she could barely make out a silvery-white gelatinous mass that had broken the surface.

As she stared, the thing-two arm's widths across and one high-drew closer. While her attention was diverted, more needles raked across her back. She kicked hard again and saw two elongated shapes, red-brown with chocolate splotches, slither away from her under the water.

Then she realized it was a giant jellyfish accompanied by sentinel eels. Kit was on the menu for breakfast!

She gazed in horror at the quivering jellyfish, hovering some feet away. Two milky eyeballs protruded on stalks in front of the beast. The stalks probed forward, while the bulbous body swayed in the water.

Kit watched as the two eels cut through the water on either side of the shimmering hulk, heading straight toward her. Lurie had told Kit about these sentinel eels who often traveled with jellyfish. Their job was to herd prey into the mass of tentacles by relentlessly attacking them with their hundreds of tiny, razor-sharp teeth.

This time the shock of their attack almost made her lose her grip on the barrel. The eels had wrapped themselves around one of her legs, pulling her down. With all her might Kit resisted, but her brain reeled from the biting pain. By the time her senses cleared, the jellyfish was upon her. It loomed over her, smothering her, sucking her toward its soft, purplish mouth.

Kit let go of the barrel and dove under the tentacled mass, as deep as she dared. She came up, her lungs bursting, behind it.

The two eels were still attacking her leg, but she had a moment to reach down and pry one of them off. It squirmed in her grasp, trying to fasten its rows of tiny teeth on her arm. She lifted the eel out of the water and, with all of her strength, twisted it up into a knot and tore it in two sections. The two parts writhed in the water, spewing blood.

No sooner had Kitiara done this than the other eel detached itself from her leg and swam over to feed on its mate.

She had no time to congratulate herself. The huge jellyfish was upon her again, this time wrapping its tentacles around her legs and back, shooting venom into her. Her sword was of no use; Kit couldn't get at it in the water. And the weight of the jellyfish was pulling her under, even as it dazed her with its poison.

One of its stalks glided before her eyes, probing her. Desperately she reached out and was able to touch one of the sea creature's milky eyeballs. The stalk thrashed frantically. Kitiara was rocked with pain, yet she managed to close her fist around the eyeball and squeeze.

The soft, pulpy thing exploded in her hand, sending a spray of blood and ooze through the water. In that instant, the beast wilted, its will or strength sapped. Before Kit knew what had happened, the slimy creature had withdrawn, swiftly gliding backward and vanishing underwater.

Bits of quivering slime covered her. The pain was already receding. But Kit was quickly losing consciousness from exhaustion.

"Curse Patric for getting his throat slashed and curse the heavens for the wretched storm!" Kitiara weakly shouted, somehow comforted by the sound of her own voice.

Kit's heart leaped at the thin dark line she glimpsed to the west. Land!

The barrel floated by. Her legs pumping, Kit reached out and caught hold of the bobbing wood. She held on with what little strength she had left as the current carried her toward shore.