“Oh, so do I.” Amber sighed with satisfaction. “And you got it exactly right. It went from gray to rosy, and now it shines so brilliantly silver that I can barely look at it. The gemstone winks out from among the links and flashes blue and silver, just like the sea on a sunny day. I wish you would look at it.”

“In time.”

“Well, you’re complete, save for final touch-ups. I’ll take my time on the finish work.”

She ran her bared hands over his face again. It was an odd gesture partly affectionate and partly a search for small flaws in her carving. Immediately after they left Key Island, Amber had come to the foredeck. She clattered down her carrier of tools. Then, without more ado, she had roped herself to the railing and climbed over the side. She had measured his face, marking it with charcoal and humming as she did so. Mother had come to the railing, gabbling questioningly.

“I’m repairing his eyes. And changing his face, at his own request. There’s a sketch there, under the mallet. Take a look, if you like.” Amber had spidered across his chest as she spoke. She favored the scalded side of her body. He spread his hands protectively beneath her.

When Mother returned to the railing, she made approving sounds. Since then, she had watched most of the work. It took dedication, for Amber had worked nearly day and night on him. She had begun with saw and chisel, removing great slabs of his face, not just his beard, but from his brow and even his nose. Then she attacked his chest and upper arms, “To keep you proportional,” she had explained. His groping hands had found only the rough suggestion of features. That swiftly changed, for she worked on him with a fervor such as Paragon had never known. Neither rain nor wind deterred her. When daylight failed her, she hung lanterns and worked on, more by touch than sight, he thought. Once, when Brashen cautioned her against keeping such hours, she had replied that this work was better than sleep for restoring her soul. Her healing injuries did not slow her.

Not only her tools flew over his countenance, but she had a trick of using her fingers as well. He had never felt a touch like hers. A press of her fingertips could smooth a line while a brushing touch erased a jagged spot. Even now, as she encountered a rough bit, she dabbed at the grain of his face and it aligned under her tingling touch.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Now stop asking about it.”

Sometimes, when she worked on his face, he could feel her affection for the countenance she carved. His face was beardless now, and youthful. It was more in keeping with his voice and with whom he felt himself to be, and yet it made him squirmingly curious to know he wore the face of someone Amber loved. She would not speak of him, but sometimes in the brushing touch of her fingers, he glimpsed the man she saw in her mind.

“Now I am layer upon layer upon layer,” he observed as he held her up to the railing. “Dragon and dragon, under Paragon Ludluck, under… whoever this is. Will you give me his name, also?”

“‘Paragon’ suits you better than any other name could.” She asked quietly, “Dragon and dragon?”

“Quite well, thank you, and how are you today?” He grinned as he said it. His polite nothing conveyed his intent. His dragons were his business, just as the identity of the man whose face he wore was hers.

Brashen had come to the foredeck. Now, as Amber climbed down from the railing, he sternly reminded her, “I don’t like you out there without a line on you. At the clip we’re going, by the time we discovered you were gone, it would be too late.”

“Do you still fear I would let her fall unnoticed, Brashen?” Paragon asked gravely.

BRASHEN LOOKED AT THE SHIP’S CLOSED EYES. HIS BOYISH BROW WAS UNLINED, serene, as he waited for Brashen’s reply. After a short but very uncomfortable silence, Brashen found words. “A captain’s duty is to worry about all possibilities, ship.” He changed the subject, addressing Amber. “So. Nice earring. Are you nearly finished, then?”

“I am finished. Save for a bit of smoothing on his face.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “And I may do some ornamentation on his accoutrements.”

Brashen leaned out on the forerail. He swept his eyes critically over the whole figurehead. She had accomplished an amazing amount of work in a very short time. From her myriad sketches, he surmised she had been planning this since they left Bingtown. In addition to the earring, the extra bits of wood Amber had carved away to reshape his face had been fashioned into a wide copper bracelet for his wrist and a leather battle harness pegged to his chest. A short-handled battle-axe hung from it.