Ruha had reason to be glad she still hid her face behind the modest veil other people, for it would do much to conceal her shock. The Harpers had paid a steep price for her passage, which, having observed the effect of gold on people in the Heartlands, she had expected to make her master of the ship. She considered challenging

Fowler's claim, but saw by his composure and firm man- ner that he was speaking the truth. Not for the first time, the witch cursed her ignorance of the strange customs in this part of the world and wondered if she would ever learn them all.

The Storm Sprite crested another dune, and Ruha saw they had closed half the distance to the ravaging dragon.

The dark wyrm stood upon the caravel's main deck, fac- ing sternward and digging through the somercastle like a pangolin after termites. The wings upon its back were flapping fiercely, knocking aside the cloud of arrows and spears assailing it from behind. The vessel itself had begun to list, but the bow continued to slice neatly through the heaving sea, giving Ruha hope that the ship would survive until they arrived to help. Yet Captain

Fowler had not ordered his men to take up arms. Even with a magic wind driving his vessel to the rescue, the half-ore still did not mean to give battle.

The Storm Sprite pitched downward, and Ruha lost sight of the battle. "Captain Fowler, I did not mean to challenge your authority," she said. "I was told that you are a Harper friend and, despite your mixed blood, a man of honor. I can see now that my informant was mistaken."

The half-ore's face grew tight. "I have as much honor as any human captain!" he snapped. "And would I have