"On the contrary-that's exactly how one treats family. Especially if one doesn't wish to wake up one morning to find a dagger in one's back." Ephesian sighed and adjusted the eternally crooked circle of gold ithaya leaves on his brow. "Consider that my last lesson in imperial rule to you, cousin. I shall miss you indeed."

"And I you," Grace said, almost surprised to realize how much she meant it.

She moved a step up the dais and leaned forward to kiss his cheek-only belatedly realizing this could well be an offense punishable by death. However, the emperor only held a hand to his cheek as they departed.

As luck would have it, the ship Falken had hired to take them north belonged to one Captain Magard-the very same captain, Grace learned, who had brought the others south to Tarras. Magard had bought a new cargo of spices and was heading to the Dominion of Perridon for trade. Falken's gold had convinced the captain to extend his journey northward a bit farther.

"Magard has agreed to take us as far north as Omberfell," Falken said, picking up his lute case from the dock and slinging it over a shoulder. "That's a city on the northwest coast of Embarr, at the mouth of the River Fellgrim."

Melia's eyes glinted in the morning light like the gold domes of Tarras. "And why will Magard only go as far as Omberfell? Does not Toringarth lie farther north, across the Winter Sea?"

"It does," Falken said. "But Magard's ship was built for southern waters. The Winter Sea will be thick with ice this time of year. It would crush the hull of Magard's ship like the shell of a nut. We'll have to find a new ship in Omberfell to take us the last leg."

"Maybe we should wait for spring," Beltan said.

Falken's blue eyes were hard. "And maybe spring will be too late. Come on, Beltan-help me load our things on the ship."

The bard started toward the gangplank, carrying nothing but his lute case. Beltan eyed the large heap of bags on the dock, sighed, then started to gather them up.

"Not those, dear," Melia said, pointing to two small leather satchels Grace knew belonged to the lady. "You can leave those with Lady Aryn's and Sir Tarus's things."

Beltan frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm not going to Toringarth with you, dear. I'm going to accompany Aryn to Calavere."

"What?" came Falken's sharp voice. At once the bard turned and hurried back toward them. "What do you mean you're not coming north with us?"

A pained expression crossed Melia's face. "Let me try again, dear. You run along to Toringarth just as you've planned. Only when you arrive, I won't be with you. That's because I'll be in Calavere. With Aryn." She patted his arm. "Do we have it all sorted out now?"

The bard glowered at her. "I know what you meant, Melia."

"Really? Then why did you ask?"

"Because it doesn't make any sense," Falken growled.

The lady's expression softened a fraction. "Actually, it does, dear one. You know that the sea and I don't mix very well. And besides, a lady of Aryn's station cannot travel alone with a man. It would not be seemly."

Tarus grinned. "I think Lady Aryn's virtue is quite safe with me. I suspect that's why King Boreas chose me for the task."

Melia gave the young knight's cheek a fond but firm pat. "Don't ever disagree with me again, dear, and we'll get along famously on the road to Calavere."

Tarus hastily picked up Melia's bags. "I'll put these with Aryn's things," he said, and hurried across the dock to where their horses waited.

Only as he reached the horses did Grace realize there were not two, but three. The third was a mist-white mare that looked exactly like the horse Melia had ridden east to Perridon earlier that year.

It was all decided then. Beltan gave Aryn a great hug, then lifted their bags, staggered under the weight, and started up the ship's gangplank. Melia and Falken moved a short distance away to exchange their final words in private. Tarus was with the horses. That left only Grace and Aryn.

"It seems so strange," Grace said. "Saying good-bye." Aryn reached out and took her hand, her blue eyes shining. "Then let's not say it, Grace. Let's not even think it. After all, it's just for a short time. And when I see you next, you'll have the shards of Fellring, and I'll lay my head on your knee and listen while you tell me all about your marvelous adventures in the north."

Grace squeezed her hand. "And when I see you again, you'll be..."

Aryn's smile was brave, but it couldn't quite mask the trepidation in her eyes. "I'll be your friend just as ever, and far more than glad at the sight of you."

Grace embraced the baroness. Aryn had been her very first friend on Eldh, and the young woman would always be her best. Without even thinking, Grace spun the words over the threads of the Weirding. I love you, Aryn.

The reply came back, nearly overpowering in its strength. And I you.

At last they started to let go. Then, just before the connection was broken, Grace spun one last question along the Weirding. Aryn, I don't mean to pry, but I think something's been troubling you lately-something about the Witches and what Ivalaine bid you to do. What was it?

She felt Aryn stiffen in her arms, then hastily the young woman pulled away. "The others are coming, Grace," she murmured. "It's time for us to go."

Soft as they were, the words were like a slap. Grace stared as Aryn moved quickly toward Tarus and Melia. Then Beltan and Falken were beside Grace. A high, aching note sounded on the air. A sailor in the rigging of Magard's ship blew on a large seashell.

"It's time, Grace," Falken said.

They bid their last farewells quickly. Then, together with Beltan and Falken, Grace walked up the gangplank of the ship. She turned at the top to wave one final time, but Aryn, Melia, and Tarus had already mounted their horses and were gone.

Grace didn't have the Sight, not like Lirith did. All the same, she felt a strange premonition of fear and darkness. Aryn was hiding something-something that would lead to trouble in the end. She was sure of it. Grace felt the urge to run down the gangplank and dash after the baroness.

It was too late. As the piercing note of the shell horn sounded again, Magard's crew leaped into swift action. The plank was pulled in. Ropes hissed in all directions. The furled sails fluttered, as if anxious to fly free from their bindings. First, the ship had to be rowed out of the harbor. Two dozen oars lapped into the water, and the ship moved smoothly away from the dock. Grace gripped the railing as the deck rose and fell beneath her.

It'll be all right, she told herself with a fierceness that almost felt like conviction. Aryn isn't a girl anymore. She can take care of herself. Besides, Melia is going with her.

Then again, Grace had a feeling it wasn't just out of a sense of propriety and a dislike for seasickness that Melia had decided to go north with Aryn.

Tarus's stories last night troubled both her and Falken. Melia plans to keep an eye on things in the Dominions-just in case the shadows really are gathering again.

"What's wrong, Grace?" Beltan said next to her. "You're not getting seasick already, are you?"

The salty wind blew the knight's hair back from his brow, and his green eyes were concerned. Falken was nowhere in sight; he must have gone down to see to their quarters.

Grace reached out and found the knight's hand. "It's nothing, Beltan. It's just that-"

Nearby, a stray edge of one of the sails fluttered outward from one of the ship's two masts. Then it fell back, revealing a dark, lithe figure that had not been there a heartbeat before. She stalked forward, moving sleekly as a cat despite the movement of the deck. Her short black hair was slicked back, and she wore the same tight black-leather garb as the day Grace first met her.

Beltan's eyes narrowed. "Vani. What are you doing here?" "As I said, it is my fate to come with you on this journey," the Mournish woman said, her gold eyes fixed on Grace rather than the big knight.

For a moment Grace's heart leaped in her chest. What they were trying to do seemed so daunting; maybe having Vani with them made it all just a little less impossible. Then she saw the hard look of suspicion in Beltan's gaze, as well as the way Vani cocked her shoulders so that she was turned slightly away from him, and Grace's heart sank again.

The ship moved out into the shimmering waters of the harbor, and Grace felt the first hints of churning in her stomach. Something told her this was going to be a long journey.

Captain Magard's ship was named the Fate Runner. Grace couldn't have thought of a more appropriate name. But were they running from fate, or directly into its arms?

They sailed north through the sparkling waters of the Dawn Sea, the coast always just visible as a hazy green line far off to port. Grace knew it made sense for ships to stay close to the shore. After all, there were no global positioning satellites orbiting Eldh to tell them where they were. Their first day out at sea, she saw Captain Magard use an instrument she supposed was some sort of sextant to measure the angle of the sun. That would give him an idea of their latitude. However, without an accurate clock-something Grace had yet to see on Eldh- there was no way to measure longitude. Sailing away from the shore meant sailing off the edge of the map.

Then again, the Polynesians found Hawaii, and the Vikings made it all the way to Newfoundland in their dragon ships. Perhaps there were other continents on Eldh; perhaps ancient navigators had already discovered them.

That first evening, as the sun touched the sea and set it afire, she decided to ask Captain Magard about it. There wasn't much else to do. It hadn't taken long to get settled in their two cramped cabins belowdecks-one for Beltan and Falken, and one for Vani and Grace. While none of them were violently seasick, the other three were made more than a little queasy by the motion of the ship. Beltan and Falken lay on their cots, occasionally groaning like the planks of the hull when the ship struck a particularly large wave. Vani sat cross-legged on the floor of the cabin she shared with Grace, remaining very still.

"I'm meditating," the Mournish woman said. "A T'gol must practice the art of concentration, so that she is never caught unaware."

Given the greenish tinge to her coppery skin, Vani was concentrating on not vomiting more than anything else. Grace forced herself not to smile as she left the cabin.

Unlike the others, Grace felt no trace of seasickness. The sourness in her stomach that morning had been a result of anxiety rather than the tossing of the ship, and while it wasn't entirely gone, the feeling had subsided. It would be impossible to turn back now, so there was no use worrying about the journey.

It was obvious her legs were going to take longer to adjust than her stomach. Just walking on the deck without toppling over the rail was a challenge, and she held on to everything in her reach as she inched along.

She found Magard on the aft deck, leaning against the rail and watching the ship's swirling wake. She hadn't been formally introduced to the captain-there had been no time in the bustle of leaving port-but Falken had spoken well of him.

"Excuse me." She searched for something polite to say but found nothing and so decided to dive in. "I was wondering- are there lands on Eldh beside those of Falengarth?"

The captain turned around. His skin was creased like old leather, but his eyes were bright as a gull's. With them, he seemed to size her up in a single look.

"There's Moringarth to the south," he said after moment. "But, save for the sultanates of al-Amun on the north coast, it's nothing but a blasted desert and fit for no man. Then there's Toringarth to the north, but the stories say it's mostly ice. The Black Bard tells me that's where you're headed." Magard rubbed his chin with a hand that bore only four fingers. "Though, by the salt of my blood, I can't fathom why you'd want to go there."

Grace decided it was easier not to reply to that. "Are there any other lands?"

"None I know of. My men think if you sailed too far east, you'd sail right off the edge of the world. But you know what I think, my girl?" His eyes crinkled as he grinned. "I think if you sailed far enough, you'd hit Falengarth again-only the west coast, not the east."

Grace returned his smile. "I think you might just be right, Captain."

"Now you're humoring me. It's a mad idea. But I'll have to write it down someday, when I'm too old to sail anymore and have to spend my days in a tavern near the sea, sitting by a fire with a cup of spiced wine in my hand."

"I think you should," Grace said, and she meant it.

Magard turned, gazing across the ocean. The first stars were just coming out. "It's said there's a whole kingdom there, in the far west of Falengarth."

A cool night wind sprang up off the ocean. Grace crossed her arms, shivering. "What kind of kingdom?"

Magard shrugged. "Who can say? It would be a fool's errand to try to get there overland. They say the way was open once, but if it was, it's closed again long since. Now there's only the Great Western Wood, which goes on for a thousand leagues. And there are queer things in the woods, if you believe the tales. Old things. Yet if you journey all the way west, some say you'll find a kingdom where the streets are paved with silver, and children play with baubles made of gold and jewels. If I could find a way to sail there and start a trade route, I'd be..."

His words trailed off in a sigh. For a time they watched the sea change from copper to smoky amethyst.

"I hope you do," Grace said softly. "Find a way to your golden kingdom someday."

Magard's teeth flashed in the darkness. "And what would I do with a kingdom full of silver and jewels? I have all I need right here."

He gestured to the sea. The reflection of countless stars danced on its surface, like diamonds on black silk. Grace smiled, then turned to stumble her way back to her cabin.

The days that followed were peaceful if not quite pleasant, although in their utter sameness one blurred into the next.

Grace rose early each morning. Not that there was anything for her to do. It was just that, between the rolling of the ship and the constant scrabbling of rats in the hull, sleep was a near impossibility. This fact didn't seem to keep Falken and Beltan from spending most of their time lying in their cabin-but both rose quickly enough and scrambled abovedecks when the sound of the horn announced the distribution of the daily ration of ale.

In addition to a generous dipper of ale, every day Magard gave each person on the ship a half of a lemon to eat. It seemed the captain was familiar with both the perils and prevention of scurvy. Grace made sure the others ate every bit of their lemons, although Beltan made such horrible faces one might have thought he was eating a handful of alum.

Meals were served twice daily and consisted mostly of hard-tack and salt pork; Grace couldn't help but wonder if that didn't have something to do with all the vomiting. Not all of Magard's crewmen were immune to seasickness, as she would have thought. When the smell became too much, Grace would stand in the cargo hold and breathe in the fragrance rising from the crates filled with spices, letting the aromatic scent clear her head until she felt ready to venture forth again.

Despite the fact that they shared a cabin, Grace spoke little with Vani. The Mournish woman appeared and vanished without warning. Magard's ship wasn't large; it had only two masts and was not much more than a hundred feet from stem to stern. All the same, Vani could disappear for hours on end, and one day Grace didn't catch a glimpse of her at all between dawn and dusk.

Often when Grace did see her, Vani was perched precariously high in the rigging of the ship, shading her eyes with a hand, peering into the distance. Once Grace witnessed her balancing on a single foot on the very top of the aft mast, bending and swaying with the motion of the ship almost as if she were dancing. This feat elicited oaths and wide-eyed looks of awe from Magard's crew, and after that the men would stare at Vani whenever she passed. However, the assassin seemed not to notice them.

The rare times Grace found Vani in the cabin, the Mournish woman was usually meditating, legs crossed, hands on knees, gold eyes half-lidded. Despite her relaxed position, Grace knew Vani was aware of everything around her and could leap into action in the space between two heartbeats.

As she did one day when Grace stepped into the cabin. The sea was particularly rough that day, and Grace had decided to give up trying to stay upright on deck. The roaring of the waves must have kept the sound of her stumbling even from Vani's keen ears, for when she stepped through the cabin's portal, Vani did not look up from her position on the floor. Then Grace saw the single T'hot card before her. On the card was the picture of a man. He had piercing gray eyes and was surrounded by blue rays of light.

"Vani..." Grace said.

In a motion faster than eyes could comprehend, Vani stood. "The weather grows worse?" she said tersely. The card was nowhere to be seen.

Grace nodded. She searched for something to say, but Vani brushed past her.

"I'll keep a lookout for rocks and reefs."

Once again Grace wondered why Vani had come with them on this journey. Was it really her fate, as she said? Or had it simply been her choice?

Whatever the cards say, she wants to find Travis. Just as much as you do, Grace. Just as much as Beltan does.

She couldn't help laughing at the absurdity of it all. For the slightly bumbling owner of a bar in a small Colorado mountain town, Travis certainly had a way of making others interested in him. The Pale King, Duratek, the Seekers, Trifkin Mossberry and the Little People, the dragon Sfithrisir, the Witches, Melia and Falken, Vani, and of course Beltan-all of them had shown a keen interest in Travis at one point or another.

It was the following day when Grace finally understood the reason for Vani's frequent disappearing act ever since they had boarded the Fate Runner. After the previous day's choppiness, the sea was unusually calm and glassy-so much so that even Falken and Beltan ventured abovedecks without the lure of ale. Craving fresh air, Grace accompanied them.

They rounded the foremast and nearly ran into Vani. The Mournish woman leaned against the mast, head bent. Grace caught a flash of color in Vani's hands. Then the assassin looked up, and whatever she had been holding was gone.

"There you are, Vani," Falken said. "Grace told us about your little balancing act." He touched the mast. "You weren't planning a repeat performance, were you? I was sorry I missed the display."

Vani's cheeks darkened, and she did not meet the bard's eyes. "It was not a display. One must ever practice to keep one's body and abilities honed. As a musician, I know you do the same. As should others."

Now her gold eyes flickered in Beltan's direction, focusing on his midsection. This time it was the blond knight's face that flushed. Beltan was strongly built, and his health had been restored by the magic of the fairy, but no one would ever describe him as having a perfect physique. His limbs were long and rangy, and his old ale belly had begun to make something of a resurgence during their weeks at the villa outside Tarras.

Failing utterly to make the action in any way surreptitious, Beltan sucked in his gut. "I've had enough practice in my life. I think I'll stick to my instincts."

Vani cocked her head. "And just how good are those instincts of yours?"

Beltan opened his mouth to reply, but Vani was gone. A fraction of a second later, a shadow stepped out of thin air directly behind the knight. Like black serpents, lean arms coiled around his head.

"One twist is all it would take to snap your neck," she said with a sharp smile. "You may be larger and stronger, but if I had wished it, you would be dead."

Beltan grunted. "Maybe so. But then, at least I would have had some company on my way to the grave."

Only then did Grace see the knife in his right hand. The blade was aimed back, its tip less than an inch from Vani's abdomen. Grace calculated the angle of the knife and visualized the anatomy.

He knew what he was doing, Grace. The knife would pierce the descending aorta. She'd be dead in minutes. There'd be nothing you could do.

"All right you two," Falken said with a scowl. "This really isn't the time or place to show each other up."

Vani's eyes narrowed to slits. "No. This isn't."

The air folded in on itself, and Vani was gone.