A fiery spark shot from the tip of the crystal, igniting the stream of air being sucked into the dragon's throat.

Ruha threw herself through the somercastle door. She felt a jolting crash; then there was a searing fulguration, the smell of wood ash, and finally the cool bite of saltwater.

Two

Once the numb ringing inside

Ruha's skull abated and it occurred to her that she was still alive, her first thought was not that she would choke on the saltwater she had swallowed, nor that the weight of her sodden aba would drag her beneath the dark waters, nor even that she might bleed to death from her many lacerations. When the witch opened her eyes and saw the sea heaving all around her, her first thought was that she would never be found.

The dunes loomed as high as mountains, with rolling, moonlit faces that blocked Ruha's sight in every direc- tion, making her feel immeasurably alone and insignifi- cant in the stormy vastness of the Dragonmere. They were maddeningly inconstant, now lifting her toward the stars, now dropping her into the abyssal gloom, now car- rying her along on steep, tumbling slopes of water. The witch knew she could not let the sea have its way with her. She had to free herself of its capricious grasp or die, but her chest was pumping water from her lungs in rack- ing coughs, and she could barely keep her head above the surface, much less hold herself steady on the crest of a surging dune long enough to… do what, Ruha did not know.

In all likelihood, she was not the only one to survive the disintegration of the Storm Sprite, but there had

been no time to put the little shore boat into the water.

The others would be in the same predicament as Ruha, and no doubt anxious to blame her for their troubles.