e Tower with him.  Dar was a very good friend, always there when one needed him, and always knowing exactly what to say to make one feel better.  He knew that Dar was considerably intimidated by his company.  Keritanima was such a blazing star that he felt lost beside her, and Allia's incredible beauty never ceased to tangle his tongue.  All he wanted to do was learn Sorcery, and it wasn't easy when he had to do it with Tarrin's two sisters, who could so utterly dominate the scene without even trying.  He sat between them, his eyes riveted on Dolanna, pulling at the new brown doublet that he had bought in Dineval.  It was the first time he'd worn it, since Keritanima had somehow managed to get him to buy just about a whole wardrobe.  He wore the shaeram Dolanna had given him proudly, outside his doublet, and his hands were always either very close to it or holding it.  Dar was fascinated by Sorcery, and there was nothing more in the world he wanted than to learn all about it he could.
	He turned his gaze to the other training going on.  Faalken was having trouble teaching Azakar, but it was Binter who was now giving the young man some instruction.  Faalken was a cherubic troublemaker, Dolanna's friend and Knight, the warrior charged with escorting and protecting her.  He had a raucous sense of humor and a love for jokes and pranks, but all smiles stopped when he drew his sword.  Faalken was a formidable warrior, a Knight with many years of experience under his belt, and he was a considerable threat to any who crossed weapons with him.  His love of jokes and pranks had already caused some friction with the crew, for Faalken was wise enough not to harass anyone in his company.  Tarrin rather liked Faalken.  His irreverence and zest for life had cheered him up many times, and he was a solid, dependable man when the cards were laid on the table.  It was hard to think of a journey without Faalken riding at Dolanna's side, just as it was hard to imagine travelling without Dolanna.  The Knight was watching on as Binter showed Azakar the proper grips to hold on an axe to take his height into full advantage.  Faalken was wearing a light mail shirt under a surcoat of plain, featureless brown wool, to help keep the chill off the metal.  It was only wise to wear some sort of protection when working with weapons.  Even an accident in training was potentially deadly.
	Tarrin didn't know Azakar very well, but he had already been wearing the Were-cat thin.  Azakar was a Mahuut, one of the dark-skinned races from Valkar, who had been in Yar Arak serving as a slave.  He had escaped from that and journeyed west, and was now a newly-spurred Knight.  Azakar was the the biggest, strongest, most intimidating human being Tarrin had ever seen in his life.  He was a head taller than Tarrin, who was himself a head taller than most men, and his body was a study of the purity of muscle.  But he was also a sober, rather bright young man with a quiet way about him and a very delicate touch.  Fingers that could break bones could handle silk and crystal with almost amazing gentleness, and he always knew exactly how strong he was, and how strong he needed to be.  Tarrin would like him very much, if not for his need to take his job so seriously.  Azakar had been personally assigned by Darvon, Lord General of the Knights of Karas, to look out for Tarrin's well being.  Just as Faalken was Dolanna's Knight, Azakar was supposed to be Tarrin's.  But Tarrin didn't need a Knight.  He was probably better suited to protecting himself than Azakar was to protecting him.  But Azakar, or Zak as they had started to call him, took his job seriously.  He even had the nerve to demand things of Tarrin, something that got more than a few other people's arms broken.  But something about Azakar intimidated Tarrin, and that annoyed him to no end.  He had no reason to fear Azakar, or any human for that matter, but something in how he would look at him seemed to cause Tarrin to want to obey.  Azakar was the one that made Tarrin eat, even when he didn't feel like it, kept him from walking around on deck without a warm cloak, and kept him from sinking deeper into self-isolation.
	Binter and Sisska would be well suited to train the Arakite youth.  They were Vendari, incredibly huge lizard-men from far away.  They were more than a head taller than Azakar, and they absolutely towered over everyone on the ship.  Dolanna's head barely came over Binter's belt.  They were massive, both in height and in build, and their society was remarkably similar to Allia's people.  They lived for combat, but they had such a powerful sense of honor that they would willingly kill themselves before they said something they knew was a lie.  Honor was life to the Vendari, and life was honor.  Binter and Sisska were Keritanima's personal bodyguards, incredibly powerful and effective warriors to protect someone as important as the Royal Person.  They couldn't have found anyone better for the job.  Binter alone was an absolute monster in a fight, and when his lifemate Sisska joined in, they became a harmonious mobile natural disaster.  They were both huge, inhumanly powerful, and very intelligent and well trained.  They didn't rely on brute force, except when the situation favored such crude actions.  They knew how to fight at what time, and that was the mark of an excellent warrior.  Tarrin was still trying to figure those two out.  They had definite personality, but they were so utterly devoted to their roles that it was hard to get them to open up.  Binter commonly protected Keritanima, and Sisska protected Miranda, who was Keritanima's maid and a member of her tight-knitted inner circle.
	Miranda.  Tarrin's gaze wandered to her, where she sat alone, and he again puzzled over her.  She was a mink Wikuni, and she was so incredibly cute that it seemed almost criminal.  It wasn't the beauty of Allia or the dignified presence of Dolanna, it was just sheer cuteness that disarmed absolutely everyone.  Keritanima had trained her as a spy and player of intrigue, so she used her appearance like a weapon.  A single cheeky smile was usually enough to make someone start spilling their life story.  Something about her sang to him, on a level that he couldn't comprehend, and he had an almost unconscious need to be around her for some reason.  It wasn't a romantic attraction, it was merely an interest in her that seemed almost compulsive.  She was a serious young woman, soft-spoken and not given to chitchat, but very wise and with a large capacity for others.  She was devoted to Keritanima, and it was a friendship, a bond, that Tarrin didn't quite understand.  Tarrin's own ties to Miranda were just as confusing to him.  He liked her, alot, but he didn't quite know why.
	And she sat there, alone, seemingly very comfortable with her position.  She wasn't a Sorcerer like Keritanima, Dolanna, Allia, and Dar.  She wasn't a warrior like Faalken, Azakar, Binter, and Sisska.  She was just Miranda, easy to overlook, but quick to make enemies suffer for overlooking her.  Just thinking about her made him feel lonely himself, which was a rare thing for him.  More and more, he had been withdrawing from the others.  They just didn't understand his pain, no matter how hard they tried to help.
	With an ease that stupidified the sailors in the rigging, Tarrin slipped off the yardarm and danced down booms and lines, hopping to the deck using a series of ropes and wooden beams to control his descent.  It was an unconscious display of his inhuman grace and agility, a gift from his animal nature.  He landed on the deck on all fours, then smoothly rose up to his impressive height and padded over to the little white-furred Wikuni maid without a word.  She looked up at him, then she gave him that cheeky smile and moved her embroidery hoop, then patted her lap.
	That was the other thing that always sent the sailors around him into fits.  With only a thought, Tarrin changed his shape, his body quickly melting and flowing down into the form of a large black housecat.  It was another aspect of his Were nature, the ability to assume the form of the animal to which he had been irrevocably bonded.  He then jumped up onto Miranda's lap and laid down, kneading at her wool dress with his front paws as she set her hoop beside him and continued her embroidery.  Tarrin spent alot of time on the ship in cat form, where his favorite pasttime was to chase the rats in the hold.  Captain Kern didn't mind that, but he did mind Tarrin leaving the half-eaten bodies strewn about the ship.  The fact that he would eat the rats always made Kern's face turn green, but he didn't understand.  Tarrin was a cat when in cat form, and the idea of eating prey was as natural to him as downing a tankard of ale would be to Kern.  Besides, rat was rather tasty.  Not as good as squirrel, though.
	On the deck, Tarrin could now clearly hear Dolanna as she continued her lesson with her students.  Tarrin should be there, he knew he should, but studying Sorcery like that seemed a waste of time to him now, and he didn't feel like studying at the moment.  He was powerful.  In fact, he was so powerful that he couldn't even control his own ability.  It would always get away from him, and the power of High Sorcery would rush into him like a flood, threatening to burn him to ash.  Nobody understood why this was the case, nor had anyone ever found a way to help him control it.  So Sorcery was as dangerous to him as silver, something always right over his shoulder, but threatening death should he try to use it.  Over the months, he had grown accustomed to that.  Besides, he didn't need Sorcery to protect himself.  His Were nature gave him all the weapons he needed.  He had to admit that he liked Sorcery.  He liked the feel of it, the flow of the magic through him, and the ability to use it to do things that he usually couldn't do.  But he was wise enough to keep those thoughts out of his mind.  To try now would be  inviting death, and Dolanna had expressly forbidden him to even try while they were at sea.  A single slip could destroy the ship upon which they travelled, and it was an exceptionally long swim back to shore.
	"Fire weaves are commonly called battlemagic," she was teaching her students.  "For obvious reasons.  Most weaves that are fire-dominated are offensive weaves, but it does have other uses.  Just as weaves of other flows can be offensive.  Even weaves of Earth can be very dangerous, if you know how to put them together.  Fire's most common partner in weaves is Air," she said, holding up her other hand, where another ball of fire appeared.  "Air intensifies weaves of Fire, and helps direct and control them.  But occasionally, flows of Earth or Divine power take Air's place."
	"Does Fire ever get woven together with Water?" Dar asked.
	"Of course," she replied with smile.  "The most powerful fire weaves include flows of Fire and Water."
	"Shouldn't they just cancel each other out?"
	"Not always," she told him.  "In Sorcery, sometimes what seems to be logical in actuality is not.  Sorcery obeys its own rules, Dar."  Dar gave her a curious look, but said nothing.  "Alright, Dar, copy this weave.  Pay attention to your flows, now."
	Tarrin almost closed his eyes when Miranda began scratching him behind the ears, but he kept them open long enough to watch Dar's hand become limned in fire, which coalesced into a small ball over his hands.  "Very good.  This is a basic combat spell, young ones.  You throw it, and it will explode against whatever it strikes.  The flows of Air allow you to direct it to your target, so it does not require actual skill with throwing."
	Tarrin surrendered to Miranda's fingers at that point, closing his eyes and putting his head down, letting her have her way with him.  He listened as Dolanna described the mechanics of the weave, how it moved on a thread of controlled air to its target, then detonated its stored energy on physical impact.  It was curious how physical contact could ignite magical energy, and he considered it for a while as Dar and Allia practiced hurling the little fireballs over the side of the ship, where the detonated against the cold waters of the Sea of Storms in little steaming puffs.  For Allia to get that close to the rail was an accomplishment.  Allia was born and raised in the desert, and she had a fear of such large bodies of water.  She always stayed as far from the rails as she could, and wouldn't come into the rigging because it made her look at the fact that they were surrounded by water.  She did know how to swim, Tarrin had taught her in the Tower's bathing pool, and he felt that she just needed one instance where she had to face that fear, and she would get over it.  She wasn't controlled by her fears.
	Not like him.
	"That's no way to treat Tarrin, Miranda," Keritanima's voice called from just in front of him.  He didn't bother to open his eyes, for Miranda was still scratching his ears.
	"He doesn't seem to mind, Highness," Miranda said with a chuckle.  "Besides, it's good for him."
	"Miranda, dear, Tarrin can understand you," Keritanima said with a giggle.  "I'd be careful what I say."
	"There's nothing I'd say behind his back I wouldn't say to his face, Highness," Miranda said idly, gently pinching the tip of his ear.  "Me and Tarrin are good friends.  Aren't we, Tarrin?"
	Tarrin waggled his tail a couple of times and meowed in agreement.
	"Tarrin needs some good old fashioned spoiling," Miranda said in a light voice, stroking his head and neck in a way that made him immediately go limp.  "It's good for him."
	"Well, don't spoil him too much," Keritanima said.
	"Oh, I'd never do that," Miranda said with a light chuckle, petting him again.
	"Keritanima," Dolanna said sharply.  "We are not done yet today."
	"You're not teaching anything I don't already know, Dolanna," the Wikuni replied, a bit tartly.  "My teacher, well, she kind of went beyond the normal scope of instruction."
	"Yes, Lula does tend to do that with students who are capable," she said calmly, mainly to herself.
	And so Keritanima padded off with Dolanna's consent, going below decks.
	Tarrin listened to Dolanna continue, even as Miranda's scratching fingers sought to distract him.  It was a long journey they were on, and it was dangerous.  Tarrin had been charged by the Goddess of magic to find a lost artifact called the Firestaff.  It was a very powerful device, made so long ago that nobody remembered the creators, and inside it was the echoes of the power of Creation that the goddess Ayise used when she made the world.  Though it was just an impression of that original power, it was still more than enough to do nearly anything.  Once every five thousand years, at a specific time of day, the staff would activate, and imbue the person who was holding it with the powers of an Elder God.  It was just this possibility that he had been charged to prevent.  If Tarrin got the Firestaff first, he would either destroy it or ensure that nobody could ever get to it.  Throwing it into a volcano or the middle of the ocean seemed like good places, but he much preferred the idea of destroying it.  That way it could never threaten anyone ever again.
	If anything, he was a very unwilling participant in this.  It went against his Were nature to agree to obey another, even a goddess, but he had done just that.  It was against his nature to subvert his freedom to another, but he had done just that.  It was against his instincts to do what he was doing, but he was doing just that.  All because what he was doing was that important.  If someone got hold of the Firestaff and used it, the Goddess had already spelled out what would happen.  It would be a war.  The Elder Gods would have to destroy the newcomer, because the new god would not be constrained by the same rules as the others.  He would be a wild card, an unknown, and his very existence could threaten the entire world.  The destruction wrought by that war would be devastating to the world, for it would be their battleground.  In one way, it had already begun.  Tarrin was not the only person hunting the Firestaff at the behest of a god.  The war had already begun through the human agents of gods that wanted the Firestaff.  The Goddess had called it the Questing Game, and right now, it was dominating the world.  Many people, groups, organizations, and powerful leaders were either hunting for the Firestaff or had agents doing it for them.  Tarrin was just one among many, but he was a Mi'Shara, a nonhuman noble-born wielder of Sorcery, and that was supposed to give him an advantage.  He had no idea how or why, but it was.
	There were alot of things he didn't know about what he was doing, and there were some he wished he didn't know.  They had already gathered to talk about going to Dala Yar Arak.  That was the first step, the Goddess had told him, because that was where the Book of Ages, an ancient tome of history, was reputed to be hidden.  In the book was information they needed to find the Firestaff.  It turned out that Dala Yar Arak was going to be a serious problem.  It was the largest city in the world, in the heart of the empire of Yar Arak, and that was the root of their problem.  Yar Arak was the largest nation in the world, but it was a savage, oppressive tyranny, ruled by an Emperor, and it was by his whim that he ruled.  Arakites were considered to be the pinnacle of achievement and breeding, and non-Arakites were looked down upon.  Non-humans were automatically considered to be property of the state, slaves for the Empire, a rule that had started after the Selani invaded Yar Arak and humiliated them.  Slavery was an institution in Yar Arak, and even the lowliest Arakite had at least one outlander slave to attend him.  The only non-humans that could go to Yar Arak and not be automatically enslaved were the Wikuni, and that was because only the Wikuni provided Yar Arak with vital traded goods.  And even then, they were only permitted to trade at Dala Yar Arak, and they were restricted to a very small section around the docks called the Low District.  This put Tarrin and Allia at a terrible risk, for Tarrin would be very, very valuable to the Arakite nobles, who collected rare and exotic slaves as status pieces, and all Arakites hated the Selani with a passion.  Should she be captured in Dala Yar Arak, Allia wouldn't live more than a few hours.  It seemed it would be easy to just use the Low District, but things weren't that easy.  Keritanima was a Wikuni High Princess, even though she had rejected her title, and that made her presence dangerous to them in the Low District.  The Wikuni priests could communicate over great distances, and there was no doubt that the Wikuni enclave in Dala Yar Arak already knew that Keritanima had run away, and probably had orders to either send her packing back to Wikuna, or kill her outright.
	For Tarrin, it represented the ultimate horror.  Tarrin had a phobia about being caged or imprisoned, it was an instinctive reaction from his Cat half, and being put into slavery would definitely qualify.  It would trigger a rage, and he would go berzerk.  There was no telling how many people he would kill trying to flee from Dala Yar Arak.  Tarrin's very precarious condition had figured into Dolanna's thinking, but she still had not come up with a solid plan to get them to Dala Yar Arak and keep them there safely.  It was something that she was still working on.
	The Goddess had sent him to the last place in the world he needed to be, but he had to obey her.  He just had to.
	Tarrin's relationship with his goddess was very unusual.  He acknowledged her as his patroness, but never overtly worshipped her.  She talked to him from time to time, and when she did, it was more like person to person than goddess to mortal.  He loved her, deeply, but it didn't feel like loving a deity.  It was more like loving a very good friend.  He did believe in her, and had faith in her, however.  It was the only reason he had agreed to work for her.  But in his mind, she was more than a goddess, just as she was more than a friend.  She held a unique position in his life, an unseen, mystical presence that quietly and gently led him down the path he needed to travel.  She didn't speak to him often, not often at all, but when she did, it seemed more like a parent checking in on a child than a visitation from a Goddess to her subject.  Tarrin's complicated relationship with the Goddess seemed strange to him, yet at the same time, since he'd never really talked to a god before, he had no idea what normal was supposed to be.
	"Land ho!" a voice called from high above.  Tarrin opened his eyes and looked up, where a single sailor in the crow's nest was pointing to the bow.  "Land ho!"
	Miranda cradled Tarrin in the crook of her arm and stood up, then walked over to the rail.  Just on the horizon before them, angled slightly off to the left, a dim green-brown strip was visible, if only just barely.  "He has good eyes, I'll give him that," Miranda said, shielding her eyes from the noontime sun and peering in that direction.  "I'd guess that that's the northern coast of Shac, if Captain Kern isn't off course."
	Tarrin wriggled out of her grasp and dropped to the deck, then shifted back into his humanoid form.  He stood at the rail by her, looking over, as Allia and Dar joined them.  Allia shielded her eyes from the sun and looked in that direction, using her almost magical eyesight to survey the coast.  "There's a small fishing village there," she announced.  "They fly the flag of Shac."
	"Then we can't be too far from Den Gauche," Dar said, looking that way himself.
	"Why must we stop there?" Allia asked.
	"To pick up supplies," Miranda replied.  "They're getting low on food, and the water casks are getting pretty light."
	"Why must we carry water?  It is all around us."
	"Seawater is salt water, Allia," Dar told her.  "We can't drink it.  It'll make us sick."
	"I did not know that."
	"Well, you do now," Miranda said.  "Besides, I think a few of us wouldn't mind a day or two on solid land.  I may be Wikuni, but I've never really liked sea travel."
	"That sounds almost unnatural," Dar chuckled.  "I thought Wikuni were born with seawater in their blood."
	"Not this one," Miranda said bluntly.
	Keritanima came back up on deck.  "Did they call land ho?" she asked as she approached.  Dolanna and the warriors also gathered by the rail, and they all were looking landward.
	"Allia says we're off the coast of Shac," Dar told her.
	"Kern's a good man.  I wouldn't doubt he knows exactly where we are," she said approvingly.  "For looking like a garbage scowl, this ship moves pretty quickly."
	"How long are we going to be in port?" Faalken asked.  "I need to buy a few things."
	"I think the captain said we would be moored for two days," Dolanna answered.  "It will take them time to resupply, and Kern said he has a cargo to pick up to take to Dayis."  She hooded her eyes from the sun.  "Dayis is our real destination for now, so let us hope we do not run into any delays."
	"Why are you so bent on getting to Dayis, Dolanna?" Faalken asked.
	"Because Renoit may still be there," she said.  "If he has not left yet, we may be able to go with him."
	"Ren-who?"
	"Renoit," she repeated.  "He is the master of Renoit's Most Excellent Travelling Circus.  He has a schedule of sorts, and travels to Dala Yar Arak every spring to perform.  It is he that will be our ticket into Yar Arak, provided we get to Dayis before he leaves."
	"How do you know that?"
	"Because Renoit performs in Dala Yar Arak every year," she replied.  "His is one of the entertainments during the Festival of the Sun.  He has performed there for the last fifteen years.  I do not see any reason why his plans would change."  She looked around, and saw that everyone had their attention on her.  "I am sure that all of you understand the, dangers, of going to Dala Yar Arak," she began.  "To Tarrin, Allia, and our Wikuni and Vendari friends.  Well, Renoit's circus is exempted from that law, for he has Wikuni performers, and the Emperor himself requests Renoit's circus to come and perform during the festival.  They are safe from the laws of non-human slavery.  If we join with him, there is a good chance we can move about Dala Yar Arak without fear of enslavement."
	"Now that's a clever idea," Faalken had to agree.  "But there's just one problem."
	"What is that?"
	"Getting Allia into a jester's costume."
	"I will show you a jester, human," Allia said in a dangerous tone, coming around Tarrin and heading for the jovial Knight.
	"Where did you learn about Renoit?" Keritanima asked as Allia smacked Faalken a few times as the Knight laughed.
	"I once travelled with them from Telluria to Tor," she replied.  "Renoit's circus is excellent, and he performs at ports all over the Sea of Storms."
	"It's strange that he only performs at ports."
	"Not when you realize that his circus owns a ship, Keritanima," Dolanna replied.  "He once confided in me that port cities are wealthier, so there is more money to be made there.  And his ship allows him to travel to places where the circus is always new and exciting for the inhabitants."
	"Clever.  I don't think I've ever heard of a ship-based circus."
	"His company is unique," she agreed.  "He does not have many animals, due to ship space concerns, but he more than makes up for it with his acts.  He has jugglers, strongmen, knife throwers, acrobats, people who perform on tightropes and trapezes, clowns and jesters, and dancers from every part of the Known World.  The displays of native dances always are a favorite with the crowds."
	"Do you think we'll catch him?"
	"I hope to," she sighed.  "The Festival of the Sun is not for three months, but he occasionally stops and has performances on the way to Dala Yar Arak.  If he has booked in Tor, Shoran's Fork, or Arkisia for instance, he will leave early."
	"Did I mention already that I'm glad you're here?" Keritanima asked.
	Dolanna chuckled.  "No, but I thank you for the compliment," she smiled graciously.
	Tarrin wandered off on his own, lost in thought.  A circus.  That was a good idea, especially since it would allow him to go to Yar Arak without fear of being enslaved.  Well, it actually wasn't much of a fear.  Tarrin's inhuman abilities would make it unbelievably hard for anyone to keep him under control without magic.  He was worried more for his sisters than he was for himself.  Of course, freeing himself from that enslavement would undoubtedly fill him with even more remorse and guilt than he already had, but his sisters were more important to him than himself.  He just didn't trust himself anymore.  He dreaded the idea of having to get off the ship, but at the same time, being stuck on the ship had been pressing at his temper considerably.  In many ways, the ship felt like a mobile prison, and he had nowhere to go, nothing to do.  The ship's confines had done much to erode his good nature, but at least there was no danger on the ship.  Nothing that would throw him into another rage.
	But he was paying the price for that safety, and he knew that he just had to get off the ship when it docked, no matter what.  He needed time in the open, whether there were people or enemies there or not.
	"Ship ho!" the lookout called again.  "Three ships off the starbord stern!"
	"Three?" Keritanima said curiously.  "Uh oh."
	"Why uh oh?" Dar asked.
	"It may be a triad of Zakkites, but why they're this far north is beyond me," she replied.
	"Triad?  Explain this to me," Dar said as Keritanima started towards the stern.  Tarrin's curiosity was piqued, so he followed along behind them.
	"The skyships of Zakkar are rather dangerous," she explained to Dar.  "When they engage in combat, they use magic to float high in the air.  That altitude makes it hard for enemies to shoot at them, and they rain arrows, fire, and even magical spells down on their opponents.  The Wikuni have had to install special deck guns that shoot up so we can deal with them.  They almost always travels in groups of three.  Any large group encountered on the high seas are divided into threes."
	They reached the starbord rail just before the stairs that led up to the sterring deck, and looked out behind them.  Keritanima peered out with squinted eyes, then muttered a light curse and touched the Weave.  A hazy image appeared before them in a frame of wispy smoke, that of three black-painted ships with three masts, with full sail, and with red flags.
	"Zakkites," she spat.
	"They sound unfriendly," Dar said.
	"They are," she grunted.  "They're from a kingdom on the other side of Sharadar, in the Sea of Glass, but their ships roam the twenty seas."
	"I'm familiar with Zakkar, Keritanima.  I was being sarcastic," Dar told her.  Tarrin was as well, for his parents had told him stories of them.  The kingdom of Zakkar was a place of magic, but it had a dark reputation for evil and tyranny.  It was ruled by a mage-king, who some called the Witch King because of his very nasty disposition, and the study of magic was eclipsed only by the kingdom's need to expand.  Zakkar wasn't considered large among the world's great nations, but its magic made it a very dangerous opponent.  Their ships were universally feared on the high seas, for they would often attack non-Zakkite ships they encountered.  Ungardt ships attacked Zakkite triads without hesitation, because the Zakkites would simply trail behind them, wait for an opportune moment, and strike. The Zakkites were the only kingdom capable of challenging the Wikuni for control of the twenty seas.
	"I've always wondered how they make them float," Dar said.
	"They capture creatures that can fly and put them in some kind of magical device," Keritanima replied.  "Making the ship fly kills the creatures they capture, so they can't do it all the time.  I remember hearing that the larger and stronger the creature they use, the longer the ship can fly.  They say the Great Eagles and Rocs are extinct because the Zakkites killed them all in their flying devices.  The biggest thing they can catch and use now are probably condors and albatrosses.  Unless they've managed to find Griffons, but I doubt they'd be that crazy."
	"Rocs aren't extinct," Tarrin said in a quiet voice from beside them.  That made both of them look at him; it was the first time he'd spoken in days.  "We see them flying around the foothills near Aldreth all the time.  We