The Indomitable was a hundred and a half feet long, thirty-eight feet across the beam, and more than eighteen feet from the main deck to the bottom keel. She had two lower decks resting beneath the main planking, one for the sailor's berth and one below for ballast, cargo, and stores. Three masts full of huge, square-rigged sails fluttered boldly against the wind. She was armed with thirty cannons below and twenty-six smaller carronades above to each side, for a total of one hundred and twelve guns-a solid s.h.i.+p of the line built in the proud s.h.i.+pyards of Lion's Arch. As he worked, Cobiah explored, studying every hatch and timber and learning every line of the rigging from the ma.s.sive topsails to the broad, triangular jibs that stretched out over the decks.

For the rest of a very long day, Cobiah followed Sethus through the s.h.i.+p. He caught a moment of rest whenever the work slowed, which wasn't often. Sethus taught him to wrap rough sharkskin straps around his palms and climb the rigging of the s.h.i.+p like a monkey, throwing down cast-off ropes as they were replaced with new ones. Below, less agile sailors picked up the ropes and twisted them along the length of their forearms to bundle them away. It was a struggle to keep up with Sethus, but Cobiah managed.

Before he knew it, Vost was blowing the bosun's whistle for change of s.h.i.+ft. Arms aching, legs sore from keeping his balance, Cobiah headed gratefully down to the crew's berth. Sethus went with him, chattering about the things they could look forward to when they docked in Kaineng City. "We're carrying cotton bales to the Canthans," Sethus said as he hopped ahead. "Like a cargo of gold, that is! There's a bit of extra pay in it for us if the s.h.i.+p makes port early. We always pray that Grenth keeps the pirates off our route and the wind on our course . . ." He slowed, and Cobiah pushed past to see what had gotten his light-footed friend's attention.

Another sailor, a bit older than them but far more weathered, stood at Cobiah's cubby in the crew hold. In an instant, Cobiah could tell the man had been going through his things. "What's this, then?" sneered the older boy, pulling the worn rag doll from under Cobiah's blankets. As he spoke, the sailor shook the rag doll lightly. "You brought your dolly to sea?" A rough burst of laugher erupted from the a.s.sembled sailors, and Cobiah felt his face grow flushed.

Angry, Cobiah reached across the netting and grabbed the doll's legs. "Give me that. It's none of your concern." They tugged it back and forth for a moment before the sailor let go. With a flip of his hand, the other boy laughed.

Sethus chuckled good-naturedly. "Leave Cobiah be, Tosh. This is his first pa.s.sage."

"It'll be his last if he's that much a sissy." Tosh had long, greasy hair pulled into a thin ponytail that snaked between muscular shoulders. His face was pockmarked and unpleasant. Although his clothing was worn, it had no patches, not even on the elbows of his belligerently crossed arms. As the other sailors laughed again, Tosh's brown eyes, narrow as a terrier's, mocked Cobiah's obvious embarra.s.sment.

"C'mon, Cobiah." Sethus tugged at his sleeve. "Tosh's a big bully. Dinner'll be waiting in the mess hall . . ." Sethus tried to pull Cobiah away, but he ignored it and kept his eyes on Tosh's jeering grin.

"Dolly." Tosh considered, rubbing his chin. "Maybe that's what we'll call you, eh, new fish? Are you a little dolly, too?"

"Shut your mouth," Cobiah growled between gritted teeth. Quickly, he shoved the doll into his pillowcase. He rolled that into the hammock and tucked everything back into his small cubby. There were a few other things in there, mostly because of Bosun Vost's charity: another s.h.i.+rt, a spare pair of woolen socks, a fork, a bowl, and a thick wooden mug. "If Vost finds out you've gone through my things, you'll get a day without rations."

"Yeah, you just try and tell him that through a pair of swollen lips, Dolly." Tosh pushed, shoving Cobiah back. Thick, ropy muscles stood out on his arms from years of labor aboard the s.h.i.+p. He grinned again, defying Cobiah to talk back.

By now, several of the other sailors had begun paying attention. "Dolly," singsonged the ponytailed youth, laughing. "You cry at night, Dolly? Maybe Mate Chernock'll be your mommy. Want me to ask her?"

Cobiah'd been in fights in Lion's Arch. When a new kid came to work on the docks, the others picked on him ruthlessly, like the packs of wild dogs around Lion's Arch testing to see if a new stray was strong enough to join their pack. The streets of Lion's Arch were tough on a kid alone. More so when your mother was a penniless drunk. He wasn't the best fighter, or the strongest. But he knew how this worked. The idea of a beating didn't bother Cobiah. He'd had worse at his mother's hands than they could ever give. But if these men thought he was weak, well, then the humiliation would never stop. There was nowhere to go, nowhere he could run or hide from the bullies, and portage to Cantha would take nearly eight weeks. What was he going to do, avoid Tosh? For months? On board a s.h.i.+p?

Staring at Tosh's smarmy face, Cobiah let his anger go for the first time. He was sick of losing. Sick of being picked on. Sick of fighting for the things he loved, only to see them taken away. He missed home. He missed Biviane, and that doll was all he had left of her. They weren't going to take it from him, and he wasn't going to hide it because he feared them. He wasn't going to be the stray. All the anger that he'd held back when his mother was taking things out on him, all the frustration of Biviane's death, suddenly rushed through Cobiah's veins, channeling itself into pure, cold rage.

"Dolly, Dolly," Tosh sang, still trying to grab Cobiah's bundled blankets.

Cobiah snarled sudden resoluteness. "My name is Cobiah, you stupid, prancing sot. Coby, if you're my friend, but you're not, so shut your stupid mouth and keep your filthy hands off my things." Then, as if announcing that he'd nothing at all to fear from Tosh, Cobiah reached out and shoved the pockmarked sailor as hard as he could, nearly knocking the surprised sailor over. "If you touch my stuff again," Cobiah threatened, "I'll toss you into the sea."

With that, Cobiah turned his back on Tosh and stuffed the bundle into the cubby marked with his initials. There was an echoed murmur from the other sailors when he turned away. They knew that Tosh couldn't allow that kind of brush-off and still keep his reputation. Sailors cl.u.s.tered closer, like vultures hoping to feed. "Oh, you got to ruffle 'im good now, Tosh. Don't let the greengill talk to you like that," called an eager voice in the crowd. "You best show Dolly 'is place!"

Snarling in embarra.s.sment, Tosh spun Cobiah around and shoved back, forcing him to stagger into one of the hammock poles. A sharp burst of white sparks filled Cobiah's vision as his head cracked against the wood. He grabbed the pole and shook his head to clear it. All around, the rest of the sailors were gathering, cheering excitedly for a fight. Sethus tried to call them to reason, but n.o.body was listening. Like the dog packs in Lion's Arch, they were hoping for a fight.

"C'mon, Dolly," Tosh growled, eyes narrowing. "You're nothing but rag and stuffing."

"That doll belonged to my sister," Cobiah snarled. "She died back in Lion's Arch. Touch it again, and you'll be the one who gets ripped apart, I swear it on Grenth's knucklebones." Before Tosh could react, Cobiah hurled himself forward, burying his shoulder in the soft part of Tosh's midsection. Shocked, the other youth choked. As the older boy bent in half from the blow, Cobiah straightened, bringing his fist up to crack Tosh in the jaw. Eager cheers and laughter rose from the other sailors.

"Cobiah," Sethus pleaded as he backed away from the crowd, "I'll go get Vost! Just hang in there." He turned to run, and Cobiah lost sight of him.

"Vost? Bah. I'll wipe the deck with you before Vost gets here, and no one'll tell the tale." Tosh wiped a bit of blood from his lip and squared off against Cobiah, this time ready for the pale boy to make a move. "You going to run away like your little friend, Dolly?"

But Cobiah had started this fight, and he was determined to end it.

Tosh cut loose with a jab as quick as a striking hawk. It caught Cobiah's cheek, snapping his head to the side. Cobiah stumbled but recovered in a flash, double-punching Tosh's gut again, taking advantage of his previous success. Tosh grunted in pain but didn't fall.

With a spin, Tosh responded with a heavy kick to Cobiah's knee. Even as he fell, Cobiah reached out and grabbed Tosh's ponytail, jerking the other boy to the floor as well. Together, they rolled about on the floor, legs kicking and flailing as the crowd shouted encouragement. Gaining the upper hand, Cobiah rolled onto Tosh and gouged his eyes with both thumbs. Still, Tosh was stronger, and before Cobiah could get a good push, Tosh rolled him over and started punching Cobiah in the face. Two blows, and blood spilled down Cobiah's cheek. A third, and he felt his eye start to swell. "Give up, Dolly," Tosh taunted. "You can't win." All around them, sailors were encouraging them to fight harder and pa.s.sing silver back and forth with eager wagers. As he mopped at his eye with the back of his hand, Tosh leaned forward to laugh in Cobiah's face.

He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, feel the skin beginning to puff up and blur his vision. Ignoring the pain, Cobiah seized his chance and leaned forward to sink his teeth into the bully's ear. Tosh screeched and tried to pull away, but he couldn't get his ear out of Cobiah's grip. Raising his arms to either side, Tosh sent blow after blow into Cobiah's rib cage. Cobiah didn't care about the beating he was taking. He simply refused to give in.

Tosh howled, screaming and kicking, but Cobiah was relentless. Cobiah released his bite and hit him with a double strike of his fists. One of the other sailors tried to pull him back, lifting Cobiah bodily away from his foe. Cobiah pulled free and leapt back into the fray, going for the wounded ear again. "Help!" Tosh screamed. "He's gone mad-dog crazy! Get him off me!" Tosh rolled back and forth, trying desperately to throw Cobiah. At last, Cobiah let go of his opponent's ear and punched Tosh dead in the face. Blood spurted from Tosh's nose as Cobiah followed up by driving a knee into his groin.

Suddenly, hands grasped Cobiah's shoulders and jerked him away. Three brawny sailors held on to him, their faces pale. Eye swollen shut, lip split, and spitting blood out of his mouth, Cobiah twisted and nearly broke free again. "Let me go!" he snarled. "I'm not done!"

"To the Mists with you!" Tosh skittered backward across the floor in terror. Blood dripped from his broken nose as he gasped, "Keep that madman away from me!"

"Back away, you lot!" Bosun Vost shoved through the knot of sailors. He scowled in rage and put his hands on his hips. "What's going on here?" Glaring, he took in Tosh's hunched posture and torn cheeks as well as the rapidly growing bruise swelling on Cobiah's jaw. "You know the rules. No fighting aboard s.h.i.+p! Am I going to have to flog the both of you?"

Sethus, standing at Vost's side, was the first to speak up. "I told you, Bosun. Tosh tripped, and, um, Cobiah tried to catch him, then they both got tangled . . ." The crowd began to scatter and duck back to their own bunks, each sailor afraid of the bosun's wrath.

"Tripped?" Vost's eyes darkened. "Cobiah, is this true?"

"Yes, sir." Cobiah gulped, glancing from Sethus back to the injured Tosh.

Vost's withering glare turned colder. "Tosh?"

It felt like the pause lasted for hours, but eventually Tosh managed to say, "It's true."

The bosun looked back and forth between them with a grim nod. "You 'tripped' and broke your nose." Vost crossed his arms and fumed. "Fine. You two 'trippers' get swabbing duty tonight instead of dinner."

"But, sir-" Sethus began, and Vost rounded on him. "You, too, for bringing me down here over nothing." Sethus quailed and fell silent. The bosun looked between the three youths and scowled. "I'll let it slide this time, your 'tripping,' but the next time I catch any of you at it-or fibbing about it!-you'll be tripping at the end of my whip. Am I clear, you dogs?"

"Yes, sir!" all three chorused at once.

Vost grumbled and spun on one heel, pointing at Cobiah. "You and Sethus go up on deck. I want you to polish the bra.s.s up there until I can see Elona in it.

"As for you, Tosh . . ." The bosun leveled a stern glare at the other boy. "You head belowdecks to the bilge pumps. You'll check every pump for air holes, even if you have to drown yourself doing it. With the whole s.h.i.+p between you, you should have plenty of s.p.a.ce to cool down.

"Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?" Vost shouted bracingly.

It wasn't a question. Stiffening his back, Cobiah bellowed, "Yes, sir!" with the rest.

"Now get going," Vost growled.

Cobiah and Sethus raced upstairs as Tosh slunk toward the ladder that led to the lower hold. Nearly tripping over their feet, the two youths clambered out of the berth and hurried through the press of sailors at work on the deck. Grateful to feel warm wind on his face even if his stomach was growling, Cobiah retrieved the bra.s.s polish from a small storage hold. Sethus grabbed a small pile of rags. With an overdramatic sigh, he said, "Let's start with the figurehead. The rest of the bra.s.s is on the forecastle, and I'd rather stay out of the bosun's way for a while."

The figurehead of the Indomitable hung at the fore of the s.h.i.+p just beneath the bowsprit. Masterfully formed and easily recognizable, the bra.s.s woman's glorious figure curved against the keel of the s.h.i.+p as if her back were arched in flight. Six arms rose from her curving torso: two reaching up to the sky, two more spread back against the s.h.i.+p in mute protection, and a third and lowest pair curled down like the graceful limbs of a belly dancer enticing her audience. She was beautiful but h.e.l.laciously difficult to keep from turning green.

Once they were polis.h.i.+ng her, Sethus whispered, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Cobiah ran a hand through his hair, feeling the bruises where Tosh had knocked him around. "When you grow up on the streets of Lion's Arch, you learn to fight."

"So, you're a thief?"

Scowling, Cobiah retorted, "I don't steal things. I just learned how to take care of myself."

Sethus nodded, taking that in. After a moment, he blurted out, "You didn't have to fight Tosh. You could have walked away from the fight. We'd have gotten your old doll back sooner or later."

"What, have Vost step in on my account?" Cobiah snorted. "That would have only made it worse. In a week? Three weeks? Everyone would be helping Tosh pick on me. I'd be sc.u.m." He smeared polish roughly on one of the rags. "Terrible idea."

"I guess." Sethus paused. "Is that why you went crazy down there? You looked feral." Sethus shook his head in amazement. "You looked like a charr. You know, big teeth, claws, four ears, fuzzy killing machine?"

"I know what a charr is, Sethus."

"Seriously. I thought you were going to start foaming at the mouth. You were a wild thing!" He made snarling noises and sank his fingers like claws into the bra.s.s polish.

Cobiah chuckled. "I wasn't acting like a charr. I've just seen plenty of bullies in my time. I know what happens if they think they're in charge." Despite his sore jaw, it was nice to laugh again. He wiped the bra.s.s forehead with the rag, rubbing the polish in circles. "If you ignore a bully, he just gets worse. Soon everyone else joins in, and before long, you're in a hole you can't get out of.

"I could beat Tosh. But I knew I couldn't beat Tosh and his friends if they all attacked me together. A bully is one thing. A crowd . . ." His smile faded. "Anyway, I wasn't trying to win. I was trying to scare him. I wanted to show him-and everyone else-that picking a fight with me wasn't worth the cost of winning."

Sethus settled down on the other side of the figurehead and wrapped his rag around one of the woman's elegant arms. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

"Exactly." Cobiah nodded grimly. "It's all in the att.i.tude. See, if you think a bully can beat you, then he'll know he can beat you. You have to make them think you're a difficult target, too dangerous to provoke." Frowning, he scrubbed at the bra.s.s. "If you want to stop a battle from turning into a war, you have to scare the other guy as fast and as hard as you can."

"Who taught you that?"

Cobiah paused. "My father. He was a soldier in Kryta before he came to Lion's Arch. He retired from duty after the war and became a sailor."

Perhaps hearing some sadness in Cobiah's tone, Sethus asked, "What happened to him?"

Shrugging, Cobiah answered, "He went out to sea . . . and didn't come back."

For a moment Sethus thought about that, rubbing the polish from the metal with the dry side of his rag. When it was bright and s.h.i.+ning, he asked, "Cobiah? What would you have done if Tosh won?"

"Then at least it'd be over. Either way, he wouldn't pick on me anymore."

He studied the bra.s.s and worked to make it s.h.i.+ne as brightly as it could, letting the conversation fall into silence.

"You're crazy, Coby," Sethus sighed at last, buffing the maiden's elegant shoulder.

"Maybe so." Cobiah grinned. "But now the bullies know it, too."

After ten months on board, Cobiah began to realize why sailors tended to look alike. The blazing sun and fierce winds of the sea weathered his skin, tanning it to a deep brown even as the labor tightened his muscles into cordwood. The food aboard the Indomitable was rough fare, mostly: hot coffee in the morning with oatmeal, and salted meat, boiled potatoes, or fish in the evening. It wasn't much, but it was more than Cobiah had gotten in his mother's house, and he never complained.

Tosh, for the most part, kept away from him. Even after the long marks on his cheeks healed, they left thin white lines from forehead to cheek, missing the curve of his eye socket by only a hair. Cobiah hadn't made any friends with the fight, but the toughs left him alone. More than once, he heard Tosh muttering curses while he played cards with the other men. Cobiah was never asked to join the poker game. He didn't mind.

They'd been twice to ma.s.sive Kaineng City in Cantha, each time carrying a heavy cargo of cotton and returning with a load of silk and other goods. Cobiah loved exploring the twisted labyrinth of Kaineng City's streets and trying the strange Canthan food, but best of all was the pure freedom of being out to sea. Travel was glorious, opening his horizons to different cultures and perspectives. He relished life aboard the s.h.i.+p and being part of the Indomitable's crew, despite the adversity of sailing and the difficult labor. He wanted to see the world.

But he never got off the s.h.i.+p when they docked in Lion's Arch.

Cobiah spent the better part of each day chatting with Sethus and the older sailors aboard the s.h.i.+p. If he saved part of his morning ration for them, the old-timers would share stories in exchange, and Cobiah loved their tales. They talked about heroes, like those who fought to save Kryta from the White Mantle as his grandfather had done, and about the men and women of Ascalon who struggled against the ferocious, man-eating charr. They told him about the wild plains of Kryta, the sunlit hills of Ascalon, the ghost tales of the Maguuma Jungle, and the soaring, snow-covered s.h.i.+verpeaks. But best of all, Cobiah loved when they told stories of the lost cities of ancient Orr.

"Why do you like Orr so much?" Sethus asked him one night when they were lying in their hammocks. He bunked below Cobiah, occasionally reaching up to poke him with one foot when he couldn't sleep . . . which was all the time. "Orr's boring, Cobiah. It's all sunk underwater now. There's nothing to see! It's not like you can ever go there, so what's the point? I'd rather hear about the heroes of the Searing in Ascalon. Taking out the charr." Sethus punched at the air as if fighting an enemy. "Winning the hand of the fair maiden Gwen! Those are good stories."

"Charr are just mindless monsters, Sethus." Cobiah yawned. "There's nothing interesting about a mindless eating machine. You might as well be scared of the dolyak that pull carts in the city. Orr is where magic comes from. The G.o.ds themselves lived there once. And now it's vanished beneath the ocean, never to be seen again. Think of all the riches it must contain-the wealth and ancient secrets! I'd take that over monsters any day."

"Orr sank because of the charr," Sethus said smugly. "They marched across Ascalon and then went to Orr next. And the wizards of Orr-"

"Viziers," Cobiah said, correcting him.

"Whatever. A vizier tried to use magic to stop the charr army but ended up sinking the whole peninsula. The G.o.ds themselves punished him; he got turned into a lich in penance for what he'd done. You know what a lich is? It's an undead creature, risen from the grave!" Sethus grinned ghoulishly. "He got punished, Orr was destroyed, and the charr conquered Ascalon instead. That means the charr won. See? Charr beats Orr." Sethus crossed his arms and swung back and forth in his hammock. Even though it was dark, Cobiah could hear the grin on his face.

Cobiah rolled his eyes and let the subject drop.

The next morning, Vost woke them up with his usual bl.u.s.tery yelling, rolling sailors out of their hammocks if they were slow to rouse. The s.h.i.+p's bell rang loudly. "What's going on?" Cobiah rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Corsairs on the horizon?"

"Captain's inspection," Vost grumbled as he stomped past. "Get on deck!"

Sethus punched Cobiah in the arm and raced toward the stairs. Not nearly as quick as the smaller boy, Cobiah called after him jovially as he trundled along with the press of sailors climbing up the ladders from the berth to the main deck.

The sailors arranged themselves in their rows. Some tugged their s.h.i.+rts down or straightened the bandannas at their necks in case Captain Whiting took notice. Most of them didn't bother, eyes wandering to ropes that needed to be coiled or sails that had mending to be done. An extra inspection was unusual, but it wasn't enough to cause concern. Most likely, the captain just wanted to double-check the s.h.i.+p's count before they reached port.

Heavy sighs and mutters escaped the bravest as the captain and his officers came out of the quarterdeck cabins. "Gah, get it over with," Cobiah grumped under his breath. Daylight was wasting. He saw Vost standing on tiptoe at the banister, speaking in low tones to Damran, the pilot. The conversation seemed sober, their voices grim, and a tension spread through the crowd. This was unusual. Even the cold sea wind felt somehow wrong.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Cobiah whispered to Sethus, who was closer to the front ranks.

Sethus squinted and tried to put together the bits he could hear. "Sounds like a s.h.i.+p was sighted last night. The men on watch late said they saw something signaling. Flas.h.i.+ng lights at us."

"A message? What did it say?" He got no answer. One of the older sailors in the front row hushed them with a hiss and a glare.

As Vost stepped back, Captain Whiting moved gingerly toward the banister. His emerald baldric s.h.i.+fted about his tubby belly, the medals of honor twinkling and clanking with each uncertain step. The captain paused to exchange a few words with his first mate and the old navigator, then ran one lace-cuffed hand through the spa.r.s.e hair atop his forehead with a gesture that spoke volumes. Cobiah watched him interestedly, wondering what had the officers in such a strange state. Usually they spent only a few minutes on the quarterdeck, the thick bra.s.s banister separating the crew's world from the high heaven of the pampered officers.

But today, instead of tossing a glance over the crew and heading back inside, Captain Whiting sidled to the railing with obvious discomfort. He gripped the bra.s.s rail with both hands, cleared his throat, and began-hesitantly-to speak.

"Gentlemen and ladies," he said to the crew, staring out over their heads in awkward formality. Cobiah blinked. The captain's voice was thin, nasal, not at all what he'd have expected to come from the man's barrel chest. He'd thought it would have more gravity. Instead, the master of the Indomitable sounded like a sheepish schoolboy addressing the cla.s.s. "King Baede has given us new orders. A creature has been sighted in these waters. It's wreaked havoc on two of his vessels, and now we're tasked with tracking down the monster and destroying it. Therefore, our normal voyage has been postponed.

"We are the only s.h.i.+p of the line in the area." Whiting s.h.i.+fted from foot to foot, gauging his words-or possibly, Cobiah guessed, trying to remember how he'd rehea.r.s.ed them. "We're well armed and well crewed. Nothing will deter us from the king's duty." Captain Whiting lifted his hat and ran a hand through his thinning shock of hair. "Once we have ascertained the issue, we will return to Lion's Arch and bring word to the king at his palace. Only then will we resume our voyage to Cantha and deliver our cargo." He coughed. Lowering his eyes to stare down at his polished boots, Whiting finished lamely, "That is all."

Battle! Cobiah's heart leapt in his chest. He'd never seen a s.h.i.+p-to-s.h.i.+p fight, but he'd often imagined the Indomitable's cannons thundering over the waves as the galleon nimbly danced through currents. He dreamed of sails stretched to their capacity, boards creaking with the force of a sudden turn. What an adventure!

Vost stepped in front of the ranks, shooting a concerned glance over his shoulder at the three officers on the quarterdeck. With a roar, he called out, "You louts heard the captain! Back to work, and twice as hard, or I'll flog your hides myself! Tack her rudder north by northwest, back toward Kryta, and make it fast!"

The sailors scrambled to obey, running for the sail ropes and the s.h.i.+p's rudder. Cobiah scrambled up the netting beside the galleon's mainsail, Sethus racing him to the top. "Vost's kidding, right?" Cobiah gasped, swinging aloft on a knotted rope. "We're halfway to Cantha on the Sea of Sorrows. The only thing north of us is-"

"The wreckage of Orr." Sethus looked distinctly less pleased. He pulled himself up onto the high yard, the upper crossbar of the main topsail.

"Why us? Sethus, why are we headed to Orr?"

Sethus shrugged. "Everyone knows our captain's a special favorite of King Baede; he's dining at the palace most of the time we're docked in Lion's Arch. My guess is that Cap'n Whiting talked up the Indomitable, and now that there's a problem, he's going to have to live up to his bragging."

"Well, we're on a good s.h.i.+p. We've got a lot of firepower and a full load of munitions. This'll be a breeze!" Cobiah swung out on the spar, tying a rope around his waist before he crawled out to cut free the sail. "The Indomitable can handle anything."

"Cobiah, we're talking about Orr. Those are dangerous waters. We'll be sailing through sharp corals and rock pillars. There are broken stone ruins under the sea capable of tearing open our hull if the tide's too shallow-and the tide there is completely unpredictable." Sethus looked pale. "I don't care what the tales say. No sane captain sails there. It's like asking to have your keel ripped open and your belly eaten by krait."

"Come on, Sethus. You're just angry we aren't sailing to Ascalon," Cobiah teased, pulling up the free-hanging ropes as he sat balanced on the crossbar.

"Ascalon doesn't have a coastline, you nitwit. It's landlocked." Sethus coiled the netting slowly in his hands. His dark hair fluffed out with the rippling breeze, brus.h.i.+ng away from worried features. The s.h.i.+p was turning her bowsprit into the wind, and below them the s.h.i.+p rocked lightly to the side, altering her course with the movement of the rudder and recalibration of the galleon's tremendous white sails. "n.o.body goes to Orr, Cobiah. It's a cursed land. A dead land. A drowned country that the G.o.ds themselves abandoned," Sethus murmured over the rush of the wind. "I don't care what the king thinks is important. We shouldn't be going there. If we get too close, that land will curse our s.h.i.+p, too."