“I won’t be all right, my dear.” His head hung forward on his chest, his gleaming black curls curtaining his face. He coughed slightly. Blood sprayed. She did not know how he found strength to speak. His gasped whisper was desperate, urgent. “My love. Take the wizardwood charm from my wrist. Wear it always, until the day you pass it on to our son. To Paragon. You will name him Paragon? You will wear the charm?”

“Of course, of course, but you aren’t going to die. Hush. Save your strength. Here’s the ladder, this is the last hard bit, my love. Keep breathing. Vivacia! Vivacia, he’s here, help him, help him!”

The crewmen and Wintrow seemed so rough as they hauled him up onto the foredeck. Etta leapt up the ladder and hurried before them. She tore off her cloak and spread it out on the deck. “Here,” she cried to them, “put him here.”

“No!” Vivacia thundered. The figurehead had twisted around as far as she could, further than a real human could have turned. She held out her arms for Kennit.

“You can help him,” Etta sought her reassurance. “He won’t die.”

Vivacia didn’t answer her question. Her green eyes were deep as the ocean as they met Etta’s gaze. The inevitability of the ocean was in her look. “Give him to me,” she said again quietly.

An unuttered scream echoed through Etta’s heart. Air would not come into her lungs. Her whole body tingled strangely, and then went numb. “Give him to her,” she conceded. She could not feel her mouth move, but she heard the words. Wintrow and Jola raised Kennit’s body, offering him to Vivacia. Etta kept Kennit’s hand tightly in hers as the ship took him in her cradling arms. “Oh, my love,” she mourned as Vivacia received him. Then the figurehead turned away and she had to release his dangling hand.

Vivacia lifted Kennit’s limp body to her breast and held him close. Her great head bent over him. Could a liveship weep? Then she lifted her head, flinging back her raven hair. Another rock struck her bow. The whole ship rang with the impact.

“Paragon!” she cried aloud. “Hurry, hurry. Kennit is yours. Come and take him!”

“No!” Etta wailed, uncomprehending. “You would give him to his enemy? No, no, give him back to me!”

“Hush. This must be,” Vivacia said kindly but firmly. “Paragon is not his enemy. I give him back to his family, Etta.” Gently, she added, “You should go with him.”

Paragon loomed closer and closer still. His hands groped blindly toward Vivacia. “Here, I am here,” she called, guiding him to her. It was an insane maneuver to bring two ships into such proximity, bow to bow, let alone in the midst of a hail of stones. One such missile crashed down, the splash wetting them both. They ignored it. Paragon’s hands suddenly clasped Vivacia and fumbled their way to Kennit in her arms. For a long instant, the two liveships rocked in a strange embrace, the pirate between them. Then, silently, Vivacia placed Kennit’s lax body in Paragon’s waiting arms.

Etta, standing at the railing, watched the change that came over the ship’s young face. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, perhaps to keep it from trembling. Then he raised Kennit’s body.

Paragon’s pale blue eyes opened at last. He looked a long time into the pirate’s face, gazing with the hunger of years. Then, slowly, he clasped him close. Kennit looked almost doll-like in the figurehead’s embrace. His lips moved, but Etta heard nothing. The blood from Kennit’s injuries vanished swiftly as it touched Paragon’s wood, soaking in immediately, and leaving no stain of passage. Then he bowed over Kennit and kissed the top of his head with an impossible tenderness. At last, Paragon looked up. He gazed at her with Kennit’s eyes and smiled, an unbearably sad smile that yet held peace and wholeness.

An elderly woman on Paragon’s deck strained toward Kennit’s body. Tears ran down her face and she cried aloud but wordlessly, a terrible gabbling wail. Behind her, a tall dark-haired man stood with his arms crossed tightly on his chest. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed, but he did not try to interfere. He even stepped forward and helped support Kennit’s body as Paragon released it into the woman’s reaching arms. Gently they stretched him on the liveship’s deck.

“Now you,” Vivacia said suddenly. She reached for Etta, and she stepped into the liveship’s grasp.

SOMEWHERE IN THE DARKNESS, SOMEONE WAS BEATING A DRUM. IT WAS AN unsteady rhythm, loud-soft, loud-soft, and slowing, slowing inexorably to peace. There were other sounds, shouts and angry cries, but they no longer mattered. Closer to his ears, familiar voices spoke. Wintrow muttering to him and to someone else, “Damn, sorry, sorry, Kennit. Be careful, can’t you, support his leg as I lift-“