"Where's Vani?" Beltan said, tossing his lemon rind over the rail.

"Your silent friend?" Magard said. "I believe she's up there again." He grinned, pointing upward.

They all looked up to see a slim figure perched atop the ship's foremast.

"She's not my friend," Beltan growled, then turned and made his way along the deck.

Magard gave Grace and Falken a curious look.

"Long story," Grace said, and left it at that.

The wind grew worse as the day wore on, howling from the north, as if it sought to blow the ship onto the jagged Embarran coast and dash it to bits against sharp rocks. Magard and his crewmen worked constantly, barking orders and replies above the roar of the gale, running from foredeck to aft, lashing down ropes and tying off sails. Grace wished there was something she could do to help them, but it was best to stay out of the way. Once one of the sailors lost hold of a rope, and it cracked like a whip mere inches from Grace's head.

She took that as a sign and returned to her cabin. However, things were no less alarming belowdecks. The floor of the cabin rose and dipped as wildly as a carnival ride. At one point Grace checked on Beltan and Falken; the men lay in their cots, eyes clamped shut, so she left them. She wouldn't have minded some company, but no doubt Vani was still high atop the ship's mast. With nothing to do, Grace sat on the floor of her cabin and shut her eyes.

She was only trying to rest; she wasn't trying to reach out with the Touch. However, she wasn't really sleepy, and her mind must have wandered, for suddenly it was there all around her: the shimmering web of the Weirding.

Grace didn't pull back. She could sense all of the lives aboard the tiny ship. Beltan and Falken were in their cabin, Captain Magard and his crew moved abovedecks, and there was Vani, still high atop one of the masts. In addition, countless tiny sparks of light scurried deep in the hold of the ship. Rats. But seen like this, they didn't seem so revolting. Instead they flitted about in Grace's vision like fireflies.

The Weirding flooded Grace with warmth and comfort. She let her mind drift out further. Beneath the ship was a vast, glowing ocean of life. Schools of fish floated beneath the ship's hull like shimmering clouds, and larger creatures flashed by too quickly for Grace to sense what they were. Reveling in the sensation of connectedness, she reached out further yet.

It streaked toward the Fate Runner like an angry bolt of lightning.

Grace's eyes flew open. What was it? She didn't know. But it was big, the fire of its life force burning like a star against the web of the Weirding. And it was coming straight for them.

She leaped to her feat, stumbled as the ship lurched, then righted herself and pushed through the cabin door.

"Beltan! Falken!" she shouted, pounding on their cabin door. "Get out here!" Without waiting, she scrambled up the steps to the deck above.

The day had grown darker rather than lighter while she was below. Iron-colored clouds scudded across the sky, and waves broke all around the ship, crashing together in white explosions. The shore was closer than before-perilously close. Grace could discern the sharp outlines of individual rocks. Just ahead, the land seemed to take a sharp turn to the north. Gripping the rail, she made her way along the deck. She found Magard near the foremast.

"You should get belowdecks!" he shouted above the howl of the gale. "It's too rough up here!"

She clutched the mast to keep from falling as the deck rose and fell beneath her. "Captain Magard! There's something out there. It's coming right for us."

A frown crossed his leathery face. "What's coming right for us?"

"I don't know." She fought to speak against the wind and spray. "It's big. Very big. Almost like it's a..."

"It's a ship," Vani said, stepping from between two folds of empty air.

Magard jerked his head around. "A ship? Where?"

"Off to starboard. It's coming toward us quickly."

Grace stared at Vani. A ship? Yes, that made sense. At a distance, all the sparks of its crew would have merged into one, making it look like a single great light. Again she reached out with the Touch. The light was closer. Now she could make out the individual sparks of the lives aboard the vessel.

"There must be a hundred men aboard that ship."

Magard scowled at her. "And how do you know that, my girl?"

Grace opened her mouth, but before she could answer a shout went up from the aft deck.

"Ship ahoy!"

A bell rang wildly. Swearing, Magard moved to the rail. Vani and Grace followed just as Beltan and Falken appeared abovedecks. Off to starboard, a patch of mist clinging to the sea was ripped apart as a massive shape burst through it.

"By the Foamy Mane of Jorus, would you look at that," Magard said, awe written across his face.

The ship was gigantic. It rose from the waves like a fortress made of wood, its decks fully twice as high above the surface of the sea as those of the Fate Runner. Grace counted five masts and over a dozen sails, each one as crimson as blood. The mainsail sagged as the wind shifted direction. Countless small, dark forms scurried through the ship's myriad ropes, then all at once the sail filled again with air, billowing outward. Emblazoned on the vast, red field was a symbol: a black crown encircling a silver tower.

Its sails full to the wind once more, the ship surged over the waves.

"Blood and brine," Magard said. "She means to broadside us."

The captain turned to shout orders at his crew. The men dashed into action, scrambling up the rigging. But there were too few of them; they couldn't possibly turn the ship in time.

Grace clutched the rail and stared at the others, eyes wide. "What do we do?"

"I suggest we move to the port side of the ship," Vani said sharply.

Beltan and Falken returned grim nods. Together, the four fled to the opposite side of the deck and braced themselves against the rail. When Grace turned around, the oncoming ship loomed over the Fate Runner like a tower. She could hardly believe something so gigantic could move so swiftly. Decorating the ship's prow was the carving of a woman in a flowing robe, painted in blues and silvers. Except there was something strange about the woman; her eyes were too large and too slanted, her neck too long, her ears delicately pointed.

That's not a woman, Grace.

She glanced at Falken, but the bard only stared at the rapidly growing ship.

"Hold the tiller steady!" Magard shouted, cords standing out on his neck. "Cut the ropes. Give her full sail. Now!"

In the rigging above, several crewmen drew curved knives. Steel flashed, then ropes hissed and whistled through the air like angry serpents. Beltan ducked barely in time to avoid having his head taken off. The sails billowed and snapped, and the Fate Runner sprang forward like a rock out of a sling.

The gigantic ship was so close now Grace could see the men lining its deck. They were clad all in black, from horned helms to greaves. Even the swords in their hands were black. Only their shields were different: as crimson as the ship's sails, each marked with the same black crown and silver tower.

"Hold on!" Falken cried, locking his arms around the rail.

Vani snaked a rope around her wrist. Before Grace could move, Beltan wrapped his long arms around her and gripped the rail, pressing Grace tight against it.

"Here she comes!" Magard's shout sounded over the wind.

There was a roar like a jet engine. Grace craned her head around. The gigantic shape of the oncoming ship moved swiftly across her field of vision from left to right; it was falling astern as the Fate Runner sped forward.

We're going to make it, Grace. We're going to- Water sprayed up in a white geyser as a sound like thunder rent the air. The Fate Runner groaned like a torture victim as a violent tremor passed through its hull. The deck lurched, and Grace lost her hold on the rail. She would have gone flying save for Beltan's fierce grip. Two crewmen were not so lucky. Grace saw them tumble from the rigging. One struck the deck, landing in a crumpled heap. The other glanced off the railing, then vanished into the sea.

There was a low, grinding sound. Again the planks shuddered beneath Grace. Then the Fate Runner shot forward in a cloud of spray. The red-sailed ship fell behind. The men standing at its rail shook black swords.

"Magard's crew moved faster than I thought," Falken said, breathing hard as he stood back up. "We made enough headway that the ship only glanced off our stern."

"Will they not try again?" Vani said, releasing the rope she had gripped.

"They will," Beltan said. "But they're too big. They can't turn as fast as we can. It'll take them a while to come around to starboard."

The blond man was right. The gigantic ship had let its sails go slack to keep from running straight into the rocky coast. It was starting to turn, but only slowly. Every moment the ship fell farther behind them.

Captain Magard was shouting orders again. Grace wriggled free of Beltan's grasp and hurried to the slumped form of the crewman who had fallen from the rigging. Blood oozed from the back of his head. Grace reached out with the Touch, but she already knew what she would find. His thread was dark as ashes, and it fell apart in her hands.

"Hold her steady!" Magard's voice rose on the air. "One notch to port or starboard, and we're all dead."

Grace jerked her head up and gasped. While they had worked to escape the other ship, they had rushed right toward the sharp northward bend in the coast. Cliffs loomed above them. Grace didn't see how they could possibly turn in time. She went rigid, bracing herself for another impact.

Jagged walls of rock rushed by to either side of the ship as the Fate Runner sailed forward. Grace counted a dozen heartbeats, then all at once the walls fell away. She turned back to see dark cliffs shrinking behind them. The coast of Embarr was once more safely off to port.

Falken let out a low whistle. He had drawn near to Grace, along with Beltan and Vani.

"I didn't think we were going to make it through that narrows," the bard said.

"You have no faith, Falken Blackhand," Magard said, striding toward them with a broad grin. "I've wriggled this minnow through tighter passages than that."

"The other ship won't be able to make it through that narrows," Beltan said. "Whoever they were."

Vani glanced at the captain. "How long will it take them to sail around?"

"A good half day," Magard said. "Maybe more. That island stretches from the coast far to the north, and the waters are rough around it."

At last Grace understood. Earlier, it had looked like the coast bent north, but that was only because she hadn't been able to see the narrow gap in the rocks. In fact, the landmass before them had been an island, not a promontory. Only now it lay behind them, and the big, red-sailed ship would have to go around. They had lost their pursuers. For the moment. But who were the men on the strange ship? And why had they attacked the Fate Runner? Then she pictured their black helms and swords, and she thought maybe she had an idea.

Before Grace could voice her thoughts, Magard's eyes focused on the form lying before her. His grin faded, and he gave her a questioning look.

Grace sighed. "He was dead when he struck the deck."

Magard nodded, his expression hard. "We'll put him to rest in the sea, then, along with his mate who we lost before we entered the straits."

Sickness flooded Grace's stomach. The deck rolled beneath her. It seemed stormier on this side of the narrows. The sky was a swirling iron gray, and the waves leaped high enough that water slopped onto the deck. She struggled to her feet.

A stray barrel, knocked loose in the earlier impact, rolled along the deck. Beltan jumped to get out of its way. The knight frowned as it rolled toward the stern of the ship.

With a cold sensation of dread, Grace understood. "The deck. It's slanting toward the back of the ship."

The angle was visible now, and getting worse by the second.

Magard swore. "She must have clipped us harder than I thought. We're taking on water."

"Captain!" came a shout from one of the crewmen in the rigging. "There are shallows ahead!"

Magard swore again.

Falken gripped his arm. "I thought you said the Fate Runner could sail in shallow seas."

"She can," the captain said. "When she isn't riding low in the water. But now that the hold is filling..."

Magard didn't bother to say anything more. He dashed forward, barking orders to his remaining crewmen. Grace lost sight of him.

"What do we do?" she said. Her mind raced, but she couldn't think.

Falken gave Beltan a grim look. "Hold on to her, Beltan. Whatever happens, you have to keep her safe."

"On my life," the blond knight said. "I swear it."

No, this was madness. They needed a plan of action, not words of doom. Grace opened her mouth to speak, but a horrible grinding noise filled the air, and once again the deck lurched beneath her. She fell to her knees.

"Prepare yourselves!" Vani called out.

The grinding stopped, but the deck kept moving. It tilted wildly to port. Grace couldn't hold on; she began to slide. Then she felt a strong grip on her arm.

"Swim, my lady," Beltan growled in her ear. "No matter how hard the currents pull at you, swim with all your might."

All at once sky and sea switched places. Screams came from every direction, along with the horrible sounds of snapping ropes and splintering wood. There was one final, rending shriek as the ship broke apart.

Then Grace plunged into cold water, and invisible hands dragged her downward.

PART TWO.

THE RAVEN REBORN.

It was strange how quickly time could pass when all you were doing was trying to survive.

Travis knew their only purpose in Castle City was to bide their time until Jack Graystone arrived and helped them find a way back to Eldh, and back to their own time. Grace and the others probably thought they were dead, killed in the collapse of the Etherion. Travis couldn't let them believe that, not when there was still hope. Sometimes he wondered if Beltan had given up on him, or Vani. The thought made his soul ache, but just who the pain was for-fair-haired knight or gold-eyed assassin-he could never say.

Besides, Travis, maybe it's better if you never get back. If the dragon and the Witches are right, you're going to destroy Eldh no matter what you try to do.

Then again, if Vani's grandmother spoke truth, and he was A'narai -one of the Fateless-how could it be his destiny to do anything, let alone shatter a world?

It didn't matter. As things stood now, neither Beltan nor Vani had even been born yet. And it seemed anything but likely the four of them would ever get back to Eldh, let alone to their own time. Besides, in the day-to-day work of keeping a roof over their heads, sometimes it was hard to remember he was anything but a bartender in a Colorado saloon in the year 1883.

"Tell me how to concoct a Velvet, Mr. Wilder," Manypenny quizzed him that first evening he reported for work at the Mine Shaft in his new white shirt and black trousers.

Travis rubbed his freshly shaved pate. It had always been a point of pride that he knew the recipe for nearly every cocktail in existence, no matter how odd or obscure. However, his brain was a bit rusty. It had been over a year since he had left the Mine Shaft-in his time line, at least. All the same, he managed to dredge up the knowledge.

"Combine equal parts champagne and porter."

Manypenny gave a satisfied nod. "Now describe the manner for formulating a Flip."