But as Vivacia came up from the wave that had swamped her briefly, her great arms cupped and held the helpless boat. She rose from the wave with it clasped to her. Etta had never been so close to the figurehead. As she bore them up out of the deep, her voice boomed out over them. “Thank you, thank you! A thousand blessings upon you, sister of the sea. Thank you!” Silver tears of joy streamed down the liveship's carved face and fell like jewels into the water.

As the frightened sailors scrabbled toward their fellows on deck, Kennit sat roaring with joyous laughter in the bow of the boat. If there was an echo of madness in his mirth, that was the least fearsome thing about him now. For as his crewmen reached down to lay hands on him and haul him on board, the great green and gold serpent rose from the storming depths and gazed upon him. Etta felt gripped by that whirling gold stare. She looked into the depths of the creature's eyes and almost knew . . . something.

Then the creature roared one final time and sank back into the suddenly calming depths.

The small boat was going to pieces around them, the planks twisting away from their fellows as the stern gave way. Etta felt herself and Wintrow cradled in the ship's hands as Vivacia let the useless pieces of wood fall away. The ship herself lifted them to where eager hands gripped them and pulled them abroad. “Gently, gently!” she cried as they seized Wintrow from her arms. “Bring fresh water. Cut his clothes away and pour over him water and wine. Then . . . then . . .”

Vivacia suddenly cried aloud in wonder. She clasped her steaming hands together as if she prayed. “I know you!” she cried out abruptly. “I know you!”

Kennit reached down to where Etta crawled on the deck. His long-fingered hand cupped her cheek. “I will take care of it, my dear,” he told her. The same hand that had commanded both sea and serpent touched her skin. Etta fell to the deck and knew no more.

KENNIT HAD FOLLOWED ETTA'S ADVICE ABOUT WINTROW, FOR LACK OF ANY better. The boy, loosely wrapped in a length of linen, now slept in his own bed. Breath whistled in and out of him. He was ghastly. His entire body was so swollen as to be almost shapeless. The skin had blistered and bubbled up from his body. The slime had eaten through his clothing, and then melted skin and fabric together. In washing him, great patches of his skin had sloughed away, leaving raw red stretches of flesh. Kennit suspected it was good that he was unconscious. Otherwise, the pain would have been terrible.

Kennit rose stiffly. He had been sitting on the foot of the bed. Now that the storm was over, he had time to think things through. But he would not. Some things were not to be too carefully considered. He would not ask Vivacia how she had known that she must abandon her post in Deception Cove and seek him out. He would not question what the serpent had done. He would not try to change the groveling deference the crew was currently showing him.

There was a tap at the door and Etta entered. Her eyes went to Wintrow and then back to Kennit. “I've a bath waiting for you,” she said, and then her words halted. She looked at him as if she did not know what name to call him by. He had to smile at that.

“That is good. Keep watch here, with him. Do whatever you think wise to make him easy. Keep giving him water whenever he stirs. I'll be back soon. I can manage my bath by myself.”

“I put out dry clothes for you,” she managed to say. “And hot food awaits you. Sorcor is abroad, asking to see you. I didn't know what to say to him. The lookout on the Marietta saw it all. Sorcor was going to have him flogged for lying. I told him the sailor wasn't lying. . . .” Her words ran out.

He looked at her. She had changed into a loose woolen robe. Her wet hair was smoothed to her skull, reminding him of a seal's head. She stared at him. Her scalded hands were clutched together in front of her. Her breath came short and fast.

“And what else?” he prompted her gently.

She moistened her lips and held out her hand. “This was in my boot. When I changed. I think ... it must have come from the Others Island.”

She held out her hands toward him. Cupped in them, no bigger than a quail's egg, was a baby. The infant was curled tight in sleep, eyes closed, lashes on his cheeks, tiny round knees drawn up to his chest. Whatever it was carved from mimicked perfectly the fresh pink of young flesh. A tiny serpentine tail wrapped its body.

“What does it mean?” Etta demanded, her voice quavering.

Kennit touched it with a fingertip, his weathered skin dark against it. “I think we both know, don't we?” he asked her solemnly.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - Trehaug

“I LIKE IT HERE. IT'S LIKE LIVING IN A TREE-HOUSE CITY.” SELDEN WAS sitting on the foot of the divan where she lay. He bounced thoughtfully as he spoke. Where did he get the energy? Malta wished her mother would come in and shoo him away.