"Yes, I suppose you do, but I shouldn't feel too uncomfortable about it." She cocked her head. "Who was she?"

"Who?"

"The girl with the red hair. She was the one you fought for, yes?"

Neil didn't know quite how to answer that, and he suddenly realized he shouldn't. From the moment his body struck the sea, he had no certain idea of what had happened. Perhaps everything Swanmay said was true. Perhaps none of it was. Perhaps he was captive of the very people who had attacked him. They were, after all, from Hansa, or at least some of them were. Swanmay had a Hanzish look about her, though she could as easily be from Crotheny or Herilanz. Her flawless king's tongue told him nothing.

Her ship, he recalled, was unmarked.

"Lady," he said, reluctantly, "please forgive me, but I can tell you nothing of why I fought."

"Ah," Swanmay said, and this time her smile seemed stronger. "You're not stupid, then. You've no reason to believe anything I say, do you?"

"No, milady," Neil allowed, "none whatsoever."

"Never mind, then. I just wondered if your battle was a matter of love or duty. I see now that it is somehow both. But your love isn't for the girl on the boat."

He could see her eyes again, and this time they did not seem blind at all.

"I'm tired," he said.

She nodded. "You need time to think. I'll leave you for now, but please don't try to move. My physician says you will start to leak like a broken boat if you do, and you interest me. I'd rather you lived long enough to find a little trust in me."

"May I ask where we are bound?"

She clasped her hands on her knees. "You may, and I will answer, but how will you know I do not lie?"

"I suppose I don't."

"We're sailing west, at the moment, to the Straits of Rusimi, and from there to Safnia. After that, I cannot say."

She stood. "Fair rest, for now," she said. "If you need anything, pull that rope on the other side of the bed."

Neil remembered Hurricane then.

"Lady? What of my horse?"

Her face saddened. "I last saw him watching us depart. We have no berth or provisions for beasts aboard. I am sorry. I am certain so fine a beast will find a good master."

That was just another dull ache for Neil. Crow was destroyed, his armor damaged probably beyond repair, and Hurricane was lost. What more could he lose, except his life?

"Thank you, lady," he murmured.

He watched her leave. For a moment, before she closed the door behind her, he caught a glimpse of a ship's deck in moonlight.

He tried to pull his thoughts back together. He still had his duty.

Swanmay had said they were sailing west. Anne was supposed to be sailing east, toward Paldh.

If she was sailing anywhere.

Neil inspected his wounds as best he could, and discovered that Swanmay had told the truth about them, at least. The glowing sword had cut through his armor and two of his ribs. It hadn't gone into his vitals, but it had been a near thing.

So he wouldn't be walking, much less fighting, for a while. For the time being, whether she was lying or telling the truth, he was at Swanmay's mercy.

In fact, he was already worn-out, and though he tried to remain awake to ponder the situation, the sea-the one familiar thing around him-soon lulled him back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was to the soft strains of music. Swanmay sat nearby on a stool, strumming a small cherrywood harp with golden tuning pegs. The cabin window was draped, but daylight leaked through, and without the glow of fire she was like a creature from a children's story, a woman made from snow.

"Lady," he murmured.

"Ah. I did not mean to wake you."

"The sound of a harp is not the worst thing to wake to, especially one played so beautifully."

To his surprise she seemed to color a bit at that. "I was only passing the time," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Better, I think. Milady-I wonder if it is proper that you watch over me, so. I promise you, I will lie quiet. I have little choice."

She cast her eyes down a bit. "Well, it is my cabin," she said. "And I tire sometimes of being on deck. When it's bright like this, the sun hurts my eyes and burns my skin."

"You aren't Sefry, are you?" he joked.

"No. Just unused to daylight." She looked back at him. "But you've met Sefry, haven't you?"

"I have. It's not difficult to do."

"I've not seen one yet. I hope to, soon."

"I should not be in your cabin, lady," Neil persisted. "Surely there are more suitable quarters for me."

"There are none more suitable to someone in your condition," she replied.

"But this is not appropriate. Your men-"

She lifted her chin. "My men wished you left to the sharks. My men do not command here. I do. And I think I am in no danger from you. Do you disagree?"

"No, milady, but still-"

"I can change my clothes there, behind that screen, and wash, as well. There is a cot for me to sleep on."

"I should sleep on the cot."

"When you are better, you will. When you are better yet, you will sleep with the men."

"I wish-"

"What is your name?" she asked suddenly. "You have not told me your name."

"I-" He fumbled for a moment. "My name is Neil," he said finally. He was sick of lying.

"Neil," she repeated. "That's a good name. A Lierish name. Or perhaps you are from Skern. Do you-do you know the game of fiedchese?"

Neil raised his brow in surprise. "I know it, lady. My father taught me how to play when I was a boy."

"I wonder-would you like to play it? No one on the ship knows how, and they're too busy to learn. But you . . ."

"Well, it's something I can do from my back," Neil said. "If you have a board."

Swanmay smiled a little shyly and crossed to a small cupboard built into the cabin. From it she produced a fiedchese board and a leather bag full of playing pieces. The board was beautiful, its squares made of inlaid wood, one set red-brown and the other bone white. The throne in the center of the board was black.

The pieces were of matching beauty. The king was carved of the dark wood, and he wore a sharply peaked helm for his crown. His men were figured with shield and sword, and they were tall and slender like their king.

The raiders were of all sorts, no two pieces alike, and they were a bit grotesque. Some had human bodies and the heads of birds, dogs, or pigs. Others had wide bodies and short legs or no legs at all, just long arms that served the function. Neil had never seen a set like it.

"Which would you like me to play, lady?" Neil asked. "The king or raiders?"

"I have played the king far too often," Swanmay mused. "But perhaps I should play it again, to see if there is an omen in it."

And with that opaque statement she began setting up the board. The king went in the center, surrounded by his knights in the form of a cross. The raiders-Neil's men-were placed around the edge of the board. There were four gates, at each corner of the board. If the king reached any of the gates, Swanmay would win. Neil would win if he captured the king.

She took the first move, sending one of her knights east, but not so far as to strike one of his men. He studied the board a bit and countered by capturing the man.

"I thought a warrior might take that bait," she said. She sent another knight across the board, this one to block one of his pieces.

Five moves later, her king crossed through the north gate and Neil was left wondering what exactly had happened.

"Well," he said, "if it was an omen you were seeking, you found a good one."

"Yes," she replied. "In fact, I am nearly to my own gate. I hope to pass through it soon." She began placing the pieces back on the board.

"Have you been to Safnia?" she asked.

"No, milady, I haven't. I haven't been much of anywhere."

"More than I," she replied. "The only place I have ever been-besides the place where I was born-is this ship. And you're the only person . . ." She stopped, turning that faint shade of rose again. "I shouldn't talk about it. You were right to keep your own secrets. But I wish . . . no, tell me about some place, please."

Neil considered what he could tell her without revealing too much, though he was beginning to feel silly for his caution. If she were his enemy-in league with those who had attacked Anne-then surely she knew who Anne was, and surely she knew that he must be a vassal of Crotheny.

Well, she had at least guessed where he was from.

"I can tell you about Skern," he said.

"It's in the Lier Sea, yes? Part of Liery now?"

"Once it was Hansan," he said, watching for a reaction and finding none. "But now it is a Lierish protectorate."

"I know these things from books," she said. "But tell me what it is to be there."

Neil lay back and mused with his eyes closed, watching the colors of his childhood. "You're never far from the sea," he murmured. "You can smell it everywhere you go, even in the Keels."

"Keels?"

"It's a range of great stony mountains that cuts the island in two, not much more than stone and grass, really. I used to go up there with my fah to see my aunt Nieme. She kept sheep and lived in a sod house. It was nearly always raining, and in the winter the snow fell deep, but on a rare clear day you could see the coast of Saltmark, and the mountains on Skiepey-that's the next island over. It was like being at the top of the sky."

"You lived on the coast?"

"I was born in a village called Frouc, just on the coast, but I did most of my growing up on boats."

"Fishing?"

"When I was very young. After that, it was mostly fighting."

"Oh. How old were you when you became a warrior?"

"I went with my fah into battle the first time when I was nine, to carry his spears."

"Nine?"

"It's not an unusual age," Neil said. "Men are scarce."

"I suppose they would be, if they go to war at nine."

"Our enemies couldn't be convinced to wait until we had grown up," Neil replied.

"I'm sorry," Swanmay said. "I didn't mean to bring bad memories."

"Memories and scars tell who we are," Neil said. "I'm not ashamed or afraid of either."

"No, but some of them hurt, don't they?" she said softly. "I never went to war, but I know that." She glanced at the board. "You play the king this time."

"Are you in trouble, milady?" Neil asked. "Are you running from something?"

She didn't answer him right away. She waited until he had made his move, and chosen one of her own.

"If you could go anywhere you've been, or anywhere you've never been, where would you go?"

"At this moment I would go to Paldh," he said.

"That's where she's going, isn't it? Paldh?"

A sort of shock ran up Neil's spine, and he realized he'd let himself be lulled by the conversation. He'd managed-despite everything-to help Anne escape, to put her back on the road toward home.

Now he'd helped her enemies follow her again.

He looked at Swanmay's lovely white throat and wondered if he had the strength to throttle her before she called out and brought his doom upon him.