The sea around Vivacia’s bow boiled with serpents. Head after glittering head lifted from the depths until a forest of serpents stood abruptly between them and her ship. Althea’s heart near jumped out of her mouth. In the boat, Haff crouched and babbled, while Jek demanded, “Do we go back?” Lop crawled through the boat and took up Haffs oar hopefully. Althea could not find words. She had to do something. To have come so far only to see Vivacia perish before her eyes. Yet what happened next was even worse.

Vivacia threw back her head and sang to the creatures. Her throat swelled and she opened her mouth wide. Inhuman moans, roars and trills came from her mouth. The serpents’ heads swayed, captivated by her song. After a time, they sang back as if ensorcelled by her. Althea realized she stood in a half-crouch, staring at the figurehead. Uneasiness squirmed through her. Vivacia spoke to them, that was plain, and they spoke back to her. The face of the ship as she stretched her features to make the serpent sounds was alien, as was the unnatural lifting and writhing of her hair. It reminded Althea of something, something she had not seen often but was unable to forget. It reminded her of a serpent’s mane unfolding and standing out just before they shook venom from it. Why was Vivacia miming the actions of a serpent? Was she trying to convince them not to harm her?

As Althea stared up at her, wide-eyed, a terrible chilling knowledge moved deep inside her. She pushed it aside as one flings off the lingering terror of a nightmare, refusing to know it. Mine, she insisted to herself. Vivacia is mine, my family, my blood. Yet she heard herself give the low-voiced command, “Lop, Jek, get us out of here. Haff, sit down and shut up if you can’t be useful.” She did not have to speak again. She sat down hastily as Lop and Jek bent eagerly to their oars.

Vivacia lifted a great hand. She did not even glance down at Althea and the three others in the small boat but pointed commandingly at Paragon. From her throat issued a high ki-ii-ii like the cry of a striking hawk. Like a wheeling flock of birds, every serpent head turned toward the blind liveship. In the next instant the entire forest of serpents moved toward him in a purposeful rippling carpet of scintillant colors. Their heads split the water and their gleaming backs wove through the sparkling surface of the waves as they arrowed toward Paragon. Althea had never seen anything so lovely or so terrifying. As she watched, their jaws gaped wide, displaying scarlet maws and white teeth. Like flowers turning to the sun, their multihued manes began to open around their throats, standing out like deadly petals.

On Paragon’s deck, Brashen bellowed for them to turn back, to come back to the ship now, as if his command could somehow make the small craft move faster. Althea stared back at the oncoming serpents and knew it was too late. Lop and Jek rowed hard, long deep strokes that sent the boat shooting through the water, but a small boat and two rowers could never outdistance these creatures of the sea. Poor Haff, victim to his memory of his last encounter with a serpent, huddled in the bottom of the boat, panting in panic. Althea did not blame him. She watched the serpents gain on them, transfixed by danger. Then an immense blue serpent was towering over the boat, his erect mane an immense parasol of tentacles.

All in the boat cried out their fear, but the huge creature merely shouldered them out of its way. The little boat rocked wildly in the serpent’s wake, only to be struck and spun about by yet another passing snake. The brush of the next passing serpent snatched the oar from Jek’s grip and tore the oarlock loose. There was little they could do save to crouch low in the boat and hope it did not capsize. Althea clung to the seat with a white-knuckled grip and wondered if they would survive. As the wild rocking of the boat settled, she watched with horror as the serpents closed around Paragon. There was nothing she could do for the ship or the crew on board him. She forced herself to think only of what measures she could take.

The first mate made her decision. “Use that oar as a scull and make for the Vivacia. She’s our only hope now. We’ll never get back to Paragon through all those serpents.”

BRASHEN WATCHED HELPLESSLY AS ALTHEA’S SMALL BOAT WALLOWED AND swung in the wakes generated by the passing serpents. His mind rapidly sorted and discarded possibilities. Launching another ship’s boat could not aid them; it would only put more crew at risk. If Althea’s boat tipped over, there was nothing he could do for them. He looked away from her and took a deep breath. When his eyes found her again, he regarded her as a captain. He could not see her as his lover just now. If he believed in her at all, he’d trust her to take care of her boat and her crew. She’d expect him to do the same. The ship had to be his first responsibility.