“Home?” He tried to make the question casual. “And where is that?”

“Home is an eventuality. It is nothing for you to trouble yourself about just now,” she told him. She smiled, but her voice had cooled.

“Might that be the thing you will want, when you want it?” he pressed.

“It might be. Or it might not. I’ll let you know.” She paused. “After all, I have not yet heard you say that you agree to my terms.”

Carefully, carefully. “I am not a hasty man. I would still like to know more of what they are.”

She laughed aloud. “Such a silly topic for us to discuss. You agree. Because you have even less choice than I do in the life we must share. What else is there for us, if not each other? You bring me gifts, don’t you? That is more correct than you know. But I shall not even wait for you to present them before I reveal that I am a far richer trove than you imagined you could ever win. Dream larger, Kennit, than you have ever dreamt before. Dream of a ship that can summon serpents from the deep to aid us. They are mine to command. What would you have them do? Halt a ship and despoil it? Escort another ship safely wherever it wishes to go? Guide you through a fog? Guard the harbor of your city from any that might threaten it? Dream large, and larger still, Kennit. And then accept whatever terms I offer.”

He cleared his throat. His mouth had gone dry. “You extend too much,” he said baldly. “What can you want, what can I give you worthy of what you offer?”

She chuckled. “I shall tell you, if you cannot see it for yourself. You are the breath of my body, Kennit. I rely on you and your crew to move. If I must be trapped inside this hulk, then I must have a bold captain to give me wings, even if they are only of canvas. I require a captain who understands the joy of the hunt, and the quest for power. I need you, Kennit. Agree.” Her voice dropped lower and softer. “Agree.”

He took a breath. “I agree.”

She threw back her head and laughed. It was like bells ringing. The very wind seemed to blow stronger in excitement at the sound.

Kennit leaned on her railing. Elation rose in him. He could scarcely believe his dreams were all within his grasp. He groped for something to say. “Wintrow will be very disappointed. Poor boy.”

The ship nodded with a small sigh. “He deserves some happiness. Shall we send him back to his monastery?”

“I think it is the wisest course,” Kennit concurred. He covered his surprise that she would suggest it. “Still, it will be hard for me to see him go. It has torn my heart, to see his beauty so destroyed. He was a very comely youth.”

“He will be happier in his monastery, I am sure. A monk has little need of a smooth skin. Still… shall we heal him anyway, as a parting gift? A reminder to carry with him, always, of how we shaped him?” Bolt smiled, showing white teeth.

Kennit was incredulous. “This, too, you can do?”

The ship smiled conspiratorially. “This, too, you can do. Far more effective, don’t you think? Go to his cabin now. Lay on your hands and wish him well. I shall guide you in the rest.”

A STRANGE LETHARGY HAD COME OVER WINTROW. FROM ATTEMPTING TO meditate, his mind had sunk deeper and deeper into an abstract abyss. Suspended there, he wondered distantly what was happening to him. Had he finally mastered a deeper state of consciousness? Dimly, he was aware of the door opening.

He felt Kennit’s hands on his chest. Wintrow struggled to open his eyes, but could not. He could not awaken. Something held him under like a smothering hand. He heard voices, Kennit speaking and Etta replying. Gankis said something quietly. Wintrow fought to be awake, but the harder he struggled, the more the world receded. Exhausted, he hovered. Tendrils of awareness reached him. Warmth flowed out from Kennit’s spread hand. It suffused his skin, then seeped deep into his body. Kennit spoke softly, encouraging him. The fires of Wintrow’s life force suddenly blazed up. To his consciousness, it was as if a candle suddenly roared with the light and heat of a bonfire. He began to pant as if he were running an uphill race. His heart labored to keep up with the rushing of his breath. Stop, he wanted to beg Kennit, please stop, but no words escaped him. He screamed his plea into his own darkness.

He could hear. He could hear the startled gasps and cries of awe of those who watched outside him. He recognized the voices of crewmates. “Look, you can see him change!”

“Even his hair is growing.”

“It’s a miracle. The cap’n’s healing him.”

His body’s reserves were burned recklessly; he sensed that years of his life were consumed by this act, but could not defy it. The rejuvenating skin itched wildly, but he could not twitch a muscle. His own body was beyond his control. He managed a whimper, far back in his throat. It was ignored. The healing devoured him from the inside out. It was killing him. The world retreated. He floated small in the dark.