Sessurea was silent for a time. When the blue serpent finally spoke, there was more wonder than rebuke in his tone. “I never thought to hear you criticize Maulkin.”

“We have followed him long, and I have never questioned his wisdom,” she replied. She lidded her eyes briefly against the wash of silt. “I wish he would lead us again. Him I would follow until my flesh could no longer hold my bones together. Now, however, he defers, both to She Who Remembers, and to the silver ship. I accept the wisdom of She Who Remembers. But who is the silver creature that we should tarry to do her bidding while our cocooning season escapes us?”

“Not who is the silver creature. What?” Maulkin materialized suddenly alongside them. His false-eyes gleamed faintly in the murky water. He anchored himself, then wrapped a lap of coil around them both. Gratefully, Shreever eased her grip on the rock. With Maulkin holding her, she would rest more fully.

“I am tired,” she apologized. “I do not doubt you, Maulkin.”

Their leader spoke gently to her. “You have not doubted me, even when I have vacillated. You have paid a price for that loyalty, I know. I fear that the price we all pay for my indecision is too high. She Who Remembers has already pointed this out to me. Our tangle is mostly male. It will do little good for us to cocoon and hatch if we have delayed so long that no queens rise.”

“Delayed?” Shreever asked quietly.

“That is what we debate. Every tide of lingering weakens us. Yet, without a guide, there is no sense in forging on, for this world does not match our memories. Not even She Who Remembers is sure of the way. We need Bolt’s guidance, so we must wait for her. As weak as we have become, we will need her protection as well.”

“Why does she make us wait?” Sessurea, blunt as always, bit to the spine of it.

Maulkin made a disgusted sound, and a waft of toxin drifted from his mane. “To that, she has given us a score of answers, and none. She Who Remembers thinks the silver ship is more dependent on the fickle aid of humans than she will admit. As I told you, it comes down to what she is. She insists she is a dragon. We know she is not.”

“She is not?” Sessurea thundered in dismay. “What is she, then?”

“Why does that matter?” Shreever moaned. “Why cannot she simply help us, as she said she would?”

Maulkin spoke soothingly, but his words were alarming. “To help us, she will have to beg help of the humans. While she insists she is all dragon, I do not think she can humble herself to do that.” He spoke slowly. “Before she can help us, she must accept what she is. She Who Remembers has been urging her to do that. She Who Remembers knows much of one two-legs aboard the ship. Wintrow aided her to escape the Others. In touching him, she knew him. He was full of knowledge of a ship, thoughts that She Who Remembers did not grasp fully at the time. Now She begins to piece it all together. We seek to awaken the other portion of the ship, to give her strength to emerge again. It is a slow process, stinging such a creature awake. She has been both weak and reluctant. But of late, she has begun to stir. We may yet prevail.”

KENNIT BALANCED THE TRAY IN ONE HAND AND TURNED THE KEY IN THE LOCK with the other. It was not easy, for a fine trembling was ruining his dexterity. A night and a day had passed since he had last entered this room. Since then, he had not slept and barely eaten. He had avoided the foredeck and the figurehead, avoided Etta and Wintrow. He could not completely recall how he had spent those hours. For some of them, he had been aloft. Sorcor had recently presented him with a leg-peg that had a groove cut in the bottom of it. This was the first time he had completely tested it, and he had been delighted. From the crow’s nest, he could look out over his entire domain. The serpents frolicked in the crested waves about his ship and the wind sped him on. With the wind in his face, he had dreamed, savoring repeatedly his time alone with Althea Vestrit. It had not been discipline and forbearance alone that kept him away from her. Anticipation was a pleasure in itself. He had waited until his passion was once more at full tide before coming here again. Now he stood outside her door, shivering with longing.

Would he take her again? He had not yet decided. If she was wakeful enough to accuse him, he intended to deny everything. He would be so gracious, so concerned for her fears. There was such power in controlling another’s reality. Never before had he realized that. “Such a terrible nightmare,” he whispered in sham sympathy, and felt the creeping grin that threatened to overpower his face. He straightened his features and tried to calm himself. Several deep breaths later, he opened the door and stepped into the dimness.