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She chuckled. ‘I shall tell you, if you cannot see it for yourself. You are the breath of my body, Kennit. I rely on you and your crew to move. If I must be trapped inside this hulk, then I must have a bold captain to give me wings, even if they are only of canvas. I require a captain who understands the joy of the hunt, and the quest for power. I need you, Kennit. Agree.’ Her voice dropped lower and softer. ‘Agree.’

He took a breath. ‘I agree.’

She threw back her head and laughed. It was like bells ringing. The very wind seemed to blow stronger in excitement at the sound.

Kennit leaned on her railing. Elation rose in him. He could scarcely believe his dreams were all within his grasp. He groped for something to say. ‘Wintrow will be very disappointed. Poor boy.’

The ship nodded with a small sigh. ‘He deserves some happiness. Shall we send him back to his monastery?’

‘I think it is the wisest course,’ Kennit concurred. He covered his surprise that she would suggest it. ‘Still, it will be hard for me to see him go. It has torn my heart, to see his beauty so destroyed. He was a very comely youth.’

‘He will be happier in his monastery, I am sure. A monk has little need of a smooth skin. Still…shall we heal him anyway, as a parting gift? A reminder to carry with him, always, of how we shaped him?’ Bolt smiled, showing white teeth.

Kennit was incredulous. ‘This, too, you can do?’

The ship smiled conspiratorially. ‘This, too, you can do. Far more effective, don’t you think? Go to his cabin now. Lay on your hands and wish him well. I shall guide you in the rest.’

A strange lethargy had come over Wintrow. From attempting to meditate, his mind had sunk deeper and deeper into an abstract abyss. Suspended there, he wondered distantly what was happening to him. Had he finally mastered a deeper state of consciousness? Dimly, he was aware of the door opening.

He felt Kennit’s hands on his chest. Wintrow struggled to open his eyes, but could not.

He could not awaken. Something held him under like a smothering hand.

He heard voices, Kennit speaking and Etta replying.

Gankis said something quietly. Wintrow fought to be awake, but the harder he struggled, the more the world receded.

Exhausted, he hovered. Tendrils of awareness reached him.

Warmth flowed out from Kennit’s spread hand.

It suffused his skin, then seeped deep into his body.

Kennit spoke softly, encouraging him. The fires of Wintrow’s life force suddenly blazed up.

To his consciousness, it was as if a candle suddenly roared with the light and heat of a bonfire.

He began to pant as if he were running an uphill race.

His heart laboured to keep up with the rushing of his breath.

Stop , he wanted to beg Kennit. Please stop , but no words escaped him.

He screamed his plea into his own darkness.

He could hear. He could hear the startled gasps and cries of awe of those who watched outside him. He recognized the voices of crewmates. ‘Look, you can see him change!’ ‘Even his hair is growing.’ ‘It’s a miracle. The Capn’s healing him.’

His body’s reserves were burned recklessly; he sensed that years of his life were consumed by this act, but could not defy it.

The rejuvenating skin itched wildly, but he could not twitch a muscle.

His own body was beyond his control. He managed a whimper, far back in his throat.

It was ignored. The healing devoured him from the inside out.

It was killing him. The world retreated. He floated small in the dark.

After a time, he was aware that Kennit’s hands were gone. The painful pounding of his heart subsided. Someone spoke at a great distance. Kennit’s voice reverberated with pride and exhaustion.

‘There. Leave him to rest now. For the next few days, he will probably only awaken to eat and then sleep deeply again. Let no one be alarmed by this. It is a necessary part of the healing.’ He heard the pirate’s deep ragged breath. ‘I must rest, too. This has cost me, but he deserved no less.’

It was early evening when Kennit awoke. For a time, he lay still, savouring his elation.

His sleep had completely restored him. Wintrow was healed, by his hands.

Never had he felt so powerful as he had while his hands rested on Wintrow and his will healed the boy’s skin.

Those of his crew who had witnessed it regarded him with deep awe.

The entire coast of the Cursed Shores was his for the plucking.

Etta fair shone with love and admiration for him.

When he opened his eyes and regarded the charm strapped to his wrist, even that small countenance was smiling wolfishly at him.

For one perfectly balanced instant, all was well in his world.

‘I am happy,’ Kennit said aloud. He grinned to hear himself say such foreign words.

A wind was rising. He listened to it whistle past the ship’s canvas, and wondered. He had seen no sign of a storm arising. Nor did the ship rock as if beset by a wind. Had the dragon power over such things as a rising storm, too?

He rose hastily, seized his crutch and went out on deck. The wind that stirred his hair was fair and steady. No storm clouds threatened, and the waves were rhythmic and even. Yet, even as he stood looking about, the sound of a rising wind came again to his ears. He hurried towards the source.

To his astonishment, the entire crew was mustered around the foredeck. They parted to make way for him in awe-stricken silence. He limped through them and forced himself up the ladder to the foredeck. As he gained his feet, the sound of the rising wind came again. This time he saw the source.

Bolt sang. He could not see her face. Her head was thrown back so that her long hair cascaded over her shoulders.

The silver and lapis of his gift shone against the foaming black curls.

She sang with a voice like a rising wind, and then with the sound of waves slashed by wind.

Her voice ranged from a deep rush to a high whistling that no human throat and lips could have produced.

It was the wind’s song given voice, and it stirred him as no human music ever had.

It spoke deep within him in the language of the sea itself, and Kennit recognized his mother tongue.

Then another voice joined hers, winding pure notes around and through Bolt’s sea song.

Every head turned. A profound silence stilled every human voice on the ship.

Wonder replaced the first flash of fear that seized Kennit.

She, too, was as beautiful as his ship. He saw that now.

The green-gold serpent rose swaying from the depths, her jaws stretched wide in song.