Ruha thrust her shaking hands into her aba and, fear- ing her efforts would come to naught, fumbled through her pockets. Live wyrms could be killed, but what could she-or anyone-do against this dead beast?

The turbid vapor that had spilled from the dragon's maw earlier began to settle over the front part of the ship. As soon as the dark fog touched the rigging, lines started to snap and fall, hissing and smoking as though they were on fire. The sail broke free of the yardarms and fluttered to the deck, as sheer and full of holes as old lace. The mast, and then all the wood from midships for- ward, began to sizzle and fume.

Fowler sank to his knees. "Wretched witch! What have you done to my ship?"

The dragon turned its shattered face toward the cap- tain. "Did she give the order to interfere with me? Or was it you, thinking of Cormyr's filthy bounty?"

With that, the wyrm withdrew its head and slipped beneath the sea's dark surface. Ruha stepped to the taffrail and saw the shadow of one huge wing gliding through the water toward her.

"Captain, did I not promise that the Harpers would buy you another ship?" She stepped toward the half-ore.

"How can they do that if we perish with this one?"

Fowler looked at Ruha with disbelieving eyes. "You think we've a choice in the matter? If you could destroy the dragon, you'd have done it by now."

The yardarms broke free and crashed down upon the deck. The thick planks gave way as though they had been rotting for a hundred years, and the spars struck several barrels stowed below decks. One of the casks split in two,

spilling a viscous liquid that filled the air with a bitter, caustic stench. The babble of swirling water sounded behind the Storm Sprite.

Without glancing back, Ruha pointed into the hold

"What is in those casks?"

The half-ore looked puzzled, as though he found it a strange time for Ruha to question the cargo. "Lamp oil