The wind crooned over the Val-Sadè, and waves lapped against the ship's timber all around. The eerie combination of echoing sounds from outside the hull sent a chill through Tala's heart as Hawkwood approached her through the tilted vessel's galley, black daggers twirling in each hand. In the lantern light, the man's dark eyes glinted like shards of ice.

"From a distance, anyone can shoot a longbow and slay their foe with scant effort or feeling," he said. "Swords and axes are a different matter altogether, cold and clean and personal in the killing."

Tala nodded, letting him know she was listening, sweating profusely under her leather pants and tunic. Lawri Le Graven stood not far away, watching with interest.

"But few have it in them to use a knife against another human," Hawkwood continued, daggers still spinning in his hands. "For it is an even more profound thing, a close and intimate way to kill. In just an instant, a dagger can enter a soft belly, slicing through fat and muscle and meat and stirring the vitals to jelly. A small blade makes you aware of the utter vulnerability and tenderness of the flesh you are stabbing and carving into, makes you more aware of the delicacy of life and the shocking red warmness of the blood that will flow hot and alive over your own hand."

He launched his attack on Tala, then whirled at the last moment, lunging for Lawri. The tawny-haired girl backed away, green-tinged eyes lit with fear, her own black dagger slipping from her good hand, hitting the wooden floor of the Val-Sadè with a soft clatter. Hawkwood halted his advance, black leather armor glistening in the lamplight as he stood still before her.

"Sorry," Lawri mumbled, her face ashen under damp strands of hair. "I did my knife fighting all wrong." She bent and picked up the dagger with her good hand, white dress fluttering in the dim hull as she moved. "I don't think I have it in me to learn the ways of an assassin. I would surely hate to stab another person, even in self-defense. I know I said that I wanted to learn… but now?"

Hawkwood sheathed his own two daggers, looking disappointed.

"We must all learn to defend ourselves." Jondralyn left the comfort of the cushioned wood bench she was sitting on. The bench was fixed to the ship's slanting bulkhead. Tala's older sister wore tan leather breeches and a simple black shirt, black eye patch over her missing eye, the scars on her face still red but nearly healed. "You, me, Tala, we all agreed to let Hawkwood teach us how to fight. And we should not give up." Jondralyn stepped up behind Lawri and helped the girl regain the correct grip on the Bloodwood dagger. "Hold it like this, remember, like Hawkwood showed us."

Tala watched as Jondralyn helped Lawri practice the moves Hawkwood had taught them. But Lawri struggled with the lessons. She had from the start. Her heart was not in it, and the strain was starting to get to her. Tala, Lawri, and Jondralyn had been training nonstop ever since Tala had arrived at the Val-Sadè two days ago. They were being educated in stealth, thievery, pickpocketing, disguises, sword and dagger, and even poisons by Hawkwood. And unlike Lawri, Tala had enjoyed the training. It was her path to independence. And though Hawkwood was her teacher, he was not her savior. Tala vowed she would never accept a position of dependence on any man ever again—especially if that man was her brother, Jovan, or any man in the church. Everything she learned from Hawkwood was to kill dishonest men like them. And this hidden junk of a ship was the perfect place to learn.

The old pirate vessel was tipped on its side and half-sunk in Memory Bay, yet surprisingly comfortable to live in. Though all the walls were precariously aslant, someone had fitted the tilted ship with level floors and many galleys and rooms full of comforts: cushioned beds, couches, stoves, benches, bookshelves, books, water closets, iron bathtubs, and lanterns hanging in each room. And most peculiarly, under a wooden hatch in the rotted floor of the boat's easternmost galley was a ladder that plunged into the dark. The ladder emptied out into a damp and dripping tunnel burrowing deep under the bay, a twisting tunnel that split off onto a myriad of other passageways, all of which emptied out into various parts of the city, or so Hawkwood claimed.

Is there no part of Amadon immune to secret ways? Tala had thought the first time she had ventured down the ladder. It seemed not only every person, but every place in the city held secrets, including this old sunken ship.

The important thing was she had found the Val-Sadè and she was now safe from the horrors of the castle, safe from Glade Chaparral and the grand vicar, and most of all Jovan's rules and restrictions. And Lawri was also safe. Tala's cousin was certainly unable to return to the castle with the silver gauntlet attached to her arm. And, in Tala's estimation, that was a good thing. Mostly the silver gauntlet was like a dead appendage fixed to the end of Lawri's arm. Tala remembered how Lawri's frail fingers had always been listlessly toying with the bandages around her stump. Now her fingers toyed with the mysterious scaled gauntlet as if she were trying to peel the foreign thing off. But the fact was, the gauntlet was melded to her arm by some strange magic. Or Vallè sorcery!

"Does it frighten you as it does me?" Lawri asked, noticing Tala staring at her gauntleted arm.

"I don't understand it." Tala gulped, wondering if it was wrong to admit as much out loud.

"The gauntlet sends me visions," Lawri said. "Visions from the underworld, I believe. I'm another person in those dreams, a knight in green-scaled armor with a silver skull mask and a silver whip…." She paused. "And there are dragons. Green dragons. And I am their eyes. And the Silver Throne at the bottom of the slave quarry. Five holes drilled deep into the marble, colorful lights like a rainbow rising from beneath…"