So the Satrap sought to crown himself with Kennit’s deeds and reputation. Reyn embroidered his conceited fantasy for him. “No doubt minstrels will make wondrous songs to tell of your great adventure. To Bingtown and the Rain Wilds the bold young Satrap journeyed. To be saved at the end by the unselfish pirate king who belatedly recognized the ultimate importance of the Satrap of all Jamaillia is the only fitting end for such a song.” Reyn drawled the words, loving that Malta must fight to keep from smiling. Between them, the Satrap’s face lit with delight.

“Yes, yes. An excellent concept. And a whole verse devoted to the names of those who betrayed me and how they perished, torn apart by the serpents that Kennit had commanded to guard me. That will make future traitors pause before they conspire against me.”

“Doubtless,” Malta agreed. “But now we must go below.” Firmly, she eased him along. Her anxious eyes met Reyn’s, sharing her fear that they would not survive the day. Despite the darkness of the emotion, Reyn treasured that he could sense so much of what she felt just by standing near her. He gathered his strength and radiated calmness toward her. Surely, Captain Kennit had been in worse situations. His crew would know how to get them out of this.

“I’LL LAY OUT CANVAS FOR A SHROUD,” AMBER OFFERED.

“Very well,” Brashen agreed numbly. He looked down on Kennit’s body. The pirate that had nearly killed them all had died on his deck. His mother rocked him now, weeping silently, a tremulous smile on her lips. Paragon had gone very still since he had handed Kennit to his mother. Brashen feared to speak to him lest he did not answer. He sensed something happening within his ship. Whatever it was, Paragon guarded it closely. Brashen feared what it might be.

“We gonna get out of here?” Clef asked him pragmatically.

Brashen looked down at the boy by his side. “Don’t know,” Brashen answered him shortly. “We’re going to try.”

The boy surveyed the enemy ships critically. “Whyer they holdin’ back?”

“I suspect they fear the liveships. Why risk lives when rocks will work?”

The Jamaillian ship was going down. A few desperate souls had fled to her rigging, for the white serpent had shown them that their ship’s boats would provide no escape for them. Kennit’s other two ships had engaged adjacent Jamaillian vessels and were trying to force a gap in the ring of vessels that surrounded them. Another missile landed uncomfortably close. Paragon rocked slightly with it. No doubt, as soon as they were clear of the Jamaillian ship, the rest of the fleet would be bolder with their rock throwing. “If we could get the white serpent to help those two pirate vessels, we might be able to break out. But then we’d have to outrun the fleet, too.”

“It doesn’t look good,” Clef decided.

“No,” Brashen agreed grimly. Then he smiled. “But we aren’t dead yet, either.”

A strange woman was stepping down onto the railing from Paragon’s hands. She did not even glance at Brashen, but settled herself silently beside the fallen pirate. An inexpressible grief dulled her black eyes. She lifted Kennit’s hand and held it to her cheek. Mother reached across Kennit to rest a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. The women’s eyes met across his body. For a moment, the dark-haired woman studied Mother’s face. Then she spoke quietly.

“I loved him. I believe he loved me. I carry his child.”

The woman smoothed Kennit’s curls back from his still face. Brashen, feeling an intruder, looked away from them to the retreating Vivacia. Wintrow and Althea stood together on the foredeck, conferring about something. Brashen’s heart leapt at the sight of her. Cursing himself for a fool, he sprang suddenly to the rail. If one woman could cross, so could another. “Althea!” he bellowed, but the two ships had already drifted apart. Nevertheless, at his call, she spun. She sprinted wildly toward the bow. His heart choked him as he saw her spring wildly to the figurehead’s shoulder. There was no mistaking the shock on Vivacia’s face. She caught Althea in her headlong flight.

Her words to her ship carried clearly across the water to him. His heart flew on them. “Please, Vivacia. You don’t need me. I want to go to him.”

Vivacia glanced over at Paragon. Then her voice rang clear across the water. “Paragon! This one I give to you as well!”

As a parent might playfully loft a child, Vivacia swung Althea high, low, and then high again, letting her fly toward the blind ship. Her body arced through the air.

“No!” Brashen roared in terror, clutching the rail.