“That it is. I suspect we’ve got a bit of a squall coming up. But we’ve been through storms before. Paragon’s a good ship for stormy weather.”

“All the better for us to hide in.”

“I think we’re gaining distance from the Jamaillians.”

“They’ve doused their lights. They’re hoping to creep up on us in the dark.”

“They’ll have to find us first.”

“It will be harder for the Marietta and the Motley to keep pace with the liveships in the dark.”

“They’re running dark, too.”

“Vivacia won’t leave them behind. She’ll protect them no matter the risk to herself.”

An ordinary conversation, discussing the obvious. It spoke too plainly to Brashen. She had been back on the Vivacia, and found her heart once more. He could not blame her. Vivacia was Althea’s family ship. With Kennit dead, she had a much better chance of reclaiming her. And unlike Paragon, Vivacia had not embraced the anma of a murdering pirate who had done vast damage to Althea’s family. When she had come back from Vivacia, he had deceived himself that she come back to him. Instead, she had come to share battle plans. Watching the distracted frown on her face, he knew where her thoughts were.

She loved him, in her way. She gave him as much as she could, without forsaking her ship and her family. He had no right to ask more than that. If he’d still had a family to claim him, perhaps he would have been just as torn. For a fleeting instant, he considered leaving Paragon to follow her. But he couldn’t. No one else knew this ship as he did. No one else had endured alongside him. He could not make Paragon vulnerable to a captain that might not tolerate his uneven moods. And what of Clef? Would he tear the boy from the ship that loved him? Or leave him on Paragon, to be trained by a master who might not have his best interests at heart? And Semoy would not be first mate under any other captain. He’d go back to being a washed-up drunk, and lose whatever years he had left to a bottle. No. As much as he loved Althea, he had responsibilities here. She would not respect a man who abandoned his ship to follow her. Brashen Trell was finished with walking away from his duties. Here he must remain, and if need be, love Althea from afar and when they could.

In that acknowledgment, he suddenly knew that he did have a family again.

ETTA LEANED ON THE RAILING, STARING FORWARD INTO THE DARK. PARAGON could feel her there, though her presence was limited to the warm press of her forearms against his wizardwood railing. With no bond with her, he could not sense her emotions at all.

She broke the silence suddenly. “I know a little bit of liveships. From Vivacia.”

He had nothing to say to that. He waited.

“Somehow, I don’t understand how, Kennit was your family. When he died, he went into you?” Her voice tightened on the awkward words. He felt her trembling.

“In a manner of speaking.” His words sounded too cold; he sought to add something gentler. “He was always a part of me and I of him. For many reasons, we were bound more tightly than is usual. It was very important, to both of us, that he come back at the moment of his death. I knew that. I don’t think Kennit realized it until it happened.”

She took a breath. In a strangled voice she asked, “So you are Kennit now?”

“No. I’m sorry. Kennit is a part of me. He completes me. But I am, irrevocably, Paragon.” It felt good to make that declaration. He suspected that it might be painful for her to hear. To his surprise, he felt genuine sorrow that he had to hurt her. He tried to remember the last time he had had such a feeling, and could not. Was this yet another aspect of being whole: the ability to feel sympathy? It would take time to adjust to feeling such things.

“Then he is gone,” Etta said heavily. He heard her take a struggling breath. “But why couldn’t you heal him as Vivacia healed Wintrow?”

He thought silently for a time. “You say she healed him? I know nothing of that. I can only guess at what she did. It is what dragons can do, if they must. They burn the resources of their bodies to speed a healing. If Vivacia did that to Wintrow, he was lucky to survive it. Few humans have such reserves. Kennit certainly did not.”

Her silence lasted long. The night deepened around them. Even darkness was a pleasure to his newly restored vision. Night was not truly dark. He turned his eyes to the skies above, to clouds obscuring and then revealing the moon and stars. Phosphorescence outlined the waves. His keen vision, part of his dragon heritage, picked out the outlines of the ships he followed.

“Would you know something about him-Kennit? If I asked you something, could you tell me true?”