Secrets and Lies

By Selynne

Part One

It had been an entirely uneventful voyage. Sinbad and his crew had delivered some goods as promised to a vendor on the Isle of Piryn and had sailed out again, heading back towards Baghdad, where they planned on spending some restful time ashore. They had been at sea for nearly a week straight (with yet another week left before reaching home) and everything had been going uncharacteristically well. There were no monsters or pirates or evil sorcerers on their tail, and the weather had been lovely. Everyone was in good spirits (for they had also been paid quite handsomely for their last delivery) and they all suddenly had time to do a little on-board relaxing.

Firouz spent most of his time working on several of his different inventions, prattling on excitedly to anyone who would listen about air pressure and water temperature and other generally incomprehensible things. Rongar was midship, practicing his dagger throwing with several of the other sailors. Doubar was content just to enjoy the fine weather and offer general comments to Firouz (from a safe distance). And Maeve and Sinbad were standing together at the bow of the ship, talking.

The Celtic sorceress had decided that this was the perfect time to give Sinbad some more instruction in the use of his newfound powers, and Sinbad had finally broken down and agreed to it. He was much more interested in learning more about throwing fireballs or casting actual spells, but Maeve insisted on teaching him first about his new telepathic powers. And it had not taken him long to discover that telepathy was not nearly as easy as he had always assumed. He found that had no trouble "hearing" Maeve when he wished to, or even Dermott now, but other people were quite different.

"That's because there's a difference between projected thought and regular thought." Maeve explained. "Projected thought is meant to be "heard", regular thought usually isn't. And regular thought is also not necessarily just words; it can be pictures, feelings, sensations, sounds, memories…it's very confusing, even for a gifted telepath."

"Tell me about it." Sinbad murmured. Just as an experiment he had tried to "touch" Firouz's mind earlier that day, and that had been a big mistake.

Maeve laughed. "Even I know better than to try that."

Sinbad frowned at her. "How did you do that?" he asked, leaning back against the railing. "You heard my thoughts, right? But I don't feel you in my mind. How did you do that?"

Maeve stepped a little closer to him, smiling. "Sinbad, I can hear you because we're connected now," she replied in a slightly lower voice, well aware of the sailors working around them. "I don't have to purposely try to do so, like you did with Firouz. The connection is already there. All I have to do is listen to it."

He folded his arms. "And what about me?" he challenged. "This connection is two-way, right? So why can't I hear you anymore?" He remembered that first time in the cavern, when he had first realized that he was "hearing" a conversation between Maeve and Dermott. It had been the strangest thing. But ever since then Maeve had somehow been blocking out her thoughts from him (or most of them, anyway), and he was a little concerned about that.

She sighed, as if she had been expecting that question. "That's because I've put shields up around my mind," she replied.

"Shields?" Sinbad studied her, not so certain he liked the sound of that. Maeve had told him all about her family, and about Dermott, and so he knew that she trusted him. She had to know that he would never try to pry . . .

Maeve smiled again, sensing the trail of his thoughts. "It's nothing like that, Sinbad," she said truthfully, rather delighted that he would even be concerned about such a thing. "It's just something that's done when more than one person is telepathic. It's like a common courtesy. I never had to do it here before, because Dermott was the only other one aboard ship who could "hear" me. But I don't want to saddle you with my every thought, so I shield my mind."

Sinbad cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well that's not very fair, is it?" he questioned. "After all, I can't put shields around my mind."

"I'll teach you," she said dryly, unmoved. "But don't worry, I'm not eavesdropping on your every thought. I do have a life."

Sinbad nodded, relieved, and didn't even notice her little jab. He trusted Maeve completely, but he sometimes had certain thoughts about her that could be . . . well, embarrassing (to say the least) if she ever learned of them. And he was also relieved to learn that she was not closing herself off from him for other reasons. He felt a little foolish for even worrying about it. Ever since their stay on Sky Island he had felt very close to Maeve, and he was a little worried that she might try to draw away from him again, even after all the progress they had made. Whatever it was that grew between them was strong, and he did not want to lose it.

Maeve's smile softened, and he remembered belatedly hat she probably knew exactly what he was thinking. "Sinbad," she said softly. "You know that I trust you. If I didn't I would never have told you about Dermott." Then she grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling. "Besides, it wouldn't be any fun if you could hear all of my thoughts. Just like you, I'd like to leave something to the imagination."

Sinbad smiled at that, deciding to ignore what could have been a very embarrassing statement, and instead concentrated on noticing (not for the first time) how lovely Maeve looked in the morning sun. He reached forward to brush a lock of fiery hair back from her face and murmured, "And I don't think I could imagine anything more beautiful."

Maeve laughed lightly, stepping back just far enough to escape his reach. Not too long ago such a statement from him would have flustered her, made her blush or laugh nervously. But she felt much more comfortable about her feelings for him now, and (more importantly) his feelings for her. And she was no longer so easily flustered.

She shook her head at him, smiling wryly. "Stop trying to distract me, sailor," she scolded, but her eyes were dancing. "Let's get back to work."

Laughter suddenly rang through his mind, and Sinbad glanced up at Dermott, who was perched on the rigging high above their heads. Maeve heard him as well and paused to frown at her brother.

"No comments, Dermott." she ordered darkly, shaking a finger at him. Then she turned back to Sinbad and smiled sweetly. "Shall we begin?"

It was several hours later when Maeve finally called a halt to their "lesson". She had put Sinbad through quite a drill, intent on teaching him to make contact with other minds. It was easy, he learned, to "receive" a thought from someone else, but sending one on your own was quite a different story. It required a certain amount of mental focus and control that was entirely foreign to him. But despite that he did very well, especially considering that he had only discovered these talents a few weeks ago, and Maeve was secretly very pleased with his progress. Telepathy was a skill that could only be honed with practice and dedication, but Sinbad was off to a good start. They had used Dermott as Sinbad's focus, and by the end of the two hours he was able to "reach" Maeve's brother on his own every time he tried. Of course, it would be a completely different situation when he had to reach someone who wasn't already telepathic. But Maeve felt that they had gone far enough for the day.

Sinbad rubbed his eyes as he got to his feet, relieved that the lesson was over. They had been sitting on an old folded up sail on the deck, and he had the beginnings of a terrible headache.

This telepathy stuff was more complicated than he had realized.

Maeve smiled a little, sensing Sinbad's weariness. She remembered when Dermott (and then later Dim-Dim) had first taught her about "mind language", and she knew that she had not been an overly patient student. Only now did she realize how valuable those lessons had been.

It was nearing late afternoon, and the sun was lowering itself towards the horizon in a huge orange ball of flame. Rongar now stood at the tiller, and Firouz and Doubar were both below deck, fiddling with one of Firouz's inventions. It seemed that as often as Doubar complained about them, he never quite managed to escape the scientist's "demonstrations". And all of them had stayed away from Maeve and Sinbad during the lesson, knowing from past experience that it was not wise to bother the sorceress when she was concentrating on something, especially magic.

Sinbad had just pulled Maeve to her feet beside him and suggested they go below for some food when she suddenly gasped out loud, as if in pain. She stumbled backwards, her eyes very wide, and Sinbad reached for her.

"Maeve, what is it?"

She didn't answer, instead leaning back against the railing and breathing very deeply, as if trying to calm her heart. She had gone deathly pale, and Sinbad rushed to support her, knowing somehow that she was about to fall. She sagged against him gratefully, accepting his support, and he could feel her trembling slightly.

"Maeve?" He could not hide the concern in his voice as he gazed down at her, and he shouted for one of the men to go get Firouz. For one moment he had felt a flash of blinding pain, and he knew it had been her own.

"Maeve, what is it? What's wrong?" Sinbad gazed into her eyes and saw pain there, and confusion. He shook his head impatiently. "Maeve, answer me!"

She took another deep breath and finally seemed to regain herself. "I - I don't know," she stammered, reaching up to touch her forehead. "I - it felt like - " She swallowed dryly and then shook her head. "No. No, it's nothing." She got her feet back under and pushed Sinbad away slightly, regaining her balance. "I'm fine now."

Sinbad stared at her in disbelief, not willing to move any farther away, and noticed with only slight relief that her color was returning. It took all of his strength to keep from reaching for her again. "Maeve, what happened?" he repeated.

Dermott alighted on the railing beside her, and Sinbad heard him ask his sister the same question. Maeve shook her head at both of them and stepped away from the rail, frowning slightly. "I'm fine," she said, swallowing hard. "I'm all right now. It was nothing."

Just then Firouz came rushing up, slightly out of breath. "What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?" He looked to Maeve and frowned, noticing the expression on her face. "What happened?"

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, annoyed with all the concern. Then she winced, wishing that she hadn't yelled quite so loudly. "I am fine," she insisted, more softly. She pressed a hand to her forehead. "I probably just ate some bad fish in the last port. It's nothing serious."

"Ah." Firouz nodded sympathetically. " Yes. Food poisoning." He glanced at Sinbad. "I thought that fish was a little too old."

Sinbad waved away Firouz's comments and looked back to Maeve. He knew that she was not being entirely honest with him. He could feel it. For one brief moment he had felt her pain, and it had frightened him. He reached for her again. "Maeve - "

"No." She stepped away from him slightly, shaking her head, and gave them all a weary look. "I'm fine now, guys. I swear. I probably just need to get some rest, I'll be fine."

Firouz nodded again, emphatically. "Yes, that's a good idea. You should stay off your feet for a while, Maeve. Food poisoning can be quite serious if it's not treated properly."

"All right then." Maeve held up her hands in weary defeat. "I'll go lie down right now, if you'll all just stop worrying about me."

Dermott cackled, and the sorceress shook her head at him. "No, Dermott," she said, in a tone of voice that left no room for argument. "You stay up here."

Sinbad could hear Dermott's protestations in his mind, and he knew that Maeve's brother had "felt" the same thing he had. Which concerned him even more.

Ignoring Dermott's mental protestations and the expression on Sinbad's face, Maeve turned to head below, and Firouz followed after her. "I have something that'll help you sleep, if you like, Maeve," he was saying helpfully. "It'll calm your stomach as well. I mean, I know how sick food poisoning can make a person feel. Why, I once knew a man who was so ill . . . "

Firouz's voice faded away as he followed Maeve below deck, and so Sinbad never heard her response. But he did not envy her the story she was about to hear. He sighed deeply, looking over at Dermott. "Has she always been like this?" he asked, although it was pretty much a rhetorical question.

Dermott gave a "sigh" of his own and ruffled his feathers. Unfortunately, he replied, rather dryly. My sister doesn't much like being fussed over, I'm afraid. Do you know she actually broke her wrist once and never told anyone?

Sinbad shook his head, not liking the sound of that. He remembered the pain he had felt for that one instant, and it worried him. He still understood very little about magic and "connections" (for it seemed that the more he learned the more confusing things became), but he could not deny what he had felt. "What do you think happened to her just now, Dermott?" he asked the bird, not noticing the strange looks he was getting from some of the other sailors nearby. Ever since he had learned Dermott's true identity, he had felt perfectly comfortable speaking to him. "Did that feel like food poisoning to you?"

I don't know, Dermott admitted, and Sinbad could feel his distant frustration. I felt it only for an instant. I'm afraid that Maeve has always been good at hiding her feelings, even from me. She managed to block out whatever happened to her pretty quickly.

"We'll just have to keep an eye on her, then." Sinbad replied evenly. "Both of us."

He heard Dermott laugh at that statement, and Sinbad looked over at the hawk curiously. "What's so funny?"

Dermott chuckled. She won't like that idea, my friend.

Sinbad shrugged. "She doesn't have to know."

Dermott laughed again, even more amused by that statement, and clucked at Sinbad for emphasis. Trust me, Sinbad, he said drolly. She'll know.

And with that, Dermott shrieked and leapt into the sky, flying up to perch on the crow's nest. Sinbad frowned up at him for a moment, still feeling the bird's distant amusement, and shook his head. There were times when he didn't understand either Maeve or Dermott.

Sighing, he turned and headed below. He still had a headache, and he still had some food to eat. But suddenly he found that he wasn't very hungry.

*****

The next morning arrived rather overcast and cloudy. Sinbad stood at the tiller, a little concerned by the sight of some dark clouds approaching on the horizon but far more interested in the red-haired woman, who stood a short distance away from him, her bird perched on her arm. Maeve had awakened from her "rest" yesterday looking just fine, and in fact had shared dinner with them and even played a few games of cards afterwards. She had seemed totally recovered, and Firouz had been very pleased. It seemed as if her little episode the other afternoon had just been some sort of weird fluke, and Sinbad was tempted to believe that. But something about her, something about his sense of her just seemed . . . off somehow. But he could not explain it, even to himself.

Doubar stepped over to him, glancing upwards at the sky. "Looks like a storm is approaching, little brother," he remarked. "We might be wise to port tonight."

Sinbad glanced at him, surprised. "Port where?" he asked. "And why? The Nomad has weathered storms before."

"Aye, little brother, but those clouds don't look too friendly, and I for one don't want to spend another week patching breaks in the hull." Then he smiled, leaning back against the railing. "And besides, we'll be passing right by Visenya. I hear they have great taverns on that little island."

Sinbad laughed, shaking his head, and suddenly understood his brother's reasoning. But before he could reply, Maeve had stepped up to them.

"Visenya?" she echoed, surprised. "We're near the isle of Visenya?"

Both men looked at her, surprised by the tone of her voice and the fact that she had overheard them.

"Aye, Maeve." Sinbad replied, studying her face carefully. He couldn't quite read her expression. "Have you been there before?"

Maeve opened her mouth to reply, and then seemed to catch herself. She glanced out at the horizon, as if she was trying to visualize the island.

"No," she replied after a moment. "No, never mind." She looked back at them and forced a smile. "I've just heard of it a few times, is all. Never mind."

Sinbad and Doubar exchanged glances as Maeve moved away again, pulling her cloak more tightly about herself.

"What was that about?" Doubar asked, under his breath.

Sinbad shook his head. "I have no idea," he admitted. He wished suddenly that Dermott was near, he would have liked to ask him about this. But Maeve's bird was still perched on her arm, and Sinbad didn't dare try to "speak" with him while Maeve was nearby. So he sighed again and glanced at his brother.

"Does Maeve seem strange to you today?" he asked, nodding towards her. The sorceress had been unusually quiet all morning, as if lost in thought, and as always, Sinbad was unable to hear what she was thinking.

Doubar chuckled. "No more than usual, little brother."

Sinbad threw him a look and shook his head. "No, Doubar, I mean since yesterday, when she was sick . . . "

Doubar shrugged, folding his arms. "She seems fine to me, Sinbad. I don't think a little bout of food poisoning is enough to keep that girl down. What makes you think otherwise?"

It was Sinbad's turn to shrug. "I don't know, Doubar." he admitted. "It's just this feeling I have." Then, suddenly, something else occurred to him. He snapped his fingers. "And what about last night?"

Doubar glanced at him. "Last night?"

"When she lost at cards," Sinbad said. "Twice! Didn't that strike you as strange?"

Doubar chuckled again. "Little brother, all that means is that Firouz is finally learning not to fall for her bluffs. That man couldn't read a poker face if his life depended on it."

"But Doubar," Sinbad went on. "Maeve has never lost a game of cards, especially to one of us." He frowned thoughtfully. "She wasn't even trying that hard, now that I think about it."

Doubar laughed and shook his head, clapping Sinbad on the shoulder. "Little brother, I think you're reading more into this than you need to. Maeve is just fine." Then he grinned. "Maybe she just wanted to let you win for a change."

Still laughing, Doubar moved away from his brother to wind up some rope, and Sinbad sighed wearily. Suddenly he had a much better understanding of all those times when Maeve would say that she "felt" something, and then would get all upset with the doubtful looks she would see on their faces. He looked back over at her again and decided that she did indeed seem well. Maybe Doubar was right, he thought to himself. After all, he was pretty new to this whole magic thing. He could very easily be imagining something that wasn't there. After all, what did he know?

Sinbad shook his head musingly and glanced back up at the sky, dismissing the whole issue. The clouds don't really look that bad, he decided. They would probably pass right over the Nomad by mid-afternoon. There was no need to port in Visenya; his men were eager to get home, and Doubar could easily find another tavern to amuse himself in.

Feeling much better about things, Sinbad readjusted his grip on the tiller and took a long, deep breath. He was just being overly cautious, and he knew it. Soon enough they would all be home, and everything would be fine.

So naturally, when the storm hit, he was rather disconcerted.

"Stand fast!" Sinbad grimaced as he tried to keep a grip on the tiller, feeling another wave slam into the side of the Nomad with a kind of force he had never known before. The wind seemed to be in competition with the sea as it pounded them with equal fury from above, and rain poured down in silvery sheets around them. The sky above them had grown so dark that it was almost as if night had descended upon them, several hours too early. The storm had come upon them suddenly and had only broken a few minutes ago, and yet every person on deck was already completely soaked. Sinbad was still reeling from the suddenness of the thing; only an hour ago he had decided not to dock at Visenya; now he was suddenly wishing that he had made alternate plans.

Firouz stumbled up next to him (slid was more like it) and nearly sailed right over the side of the ship in the impact of another wave. Sinbad barely managed to grab him in time and pull him back over, but that combined with the effort of maintaining any sort of control over the tiller was nearly impossible.

Firouz gasped with relief and leaned back, hanging onto the railing for dear life. "Sinbad!" He had to shout to be heard over the rain and wind, and his hair was plastered to his face. "We're taking on water, at a very accelerated rate! By my calculations we should be completely swamped by - "

Another wave hit the ship, and Firouz's words were cut off as he was nearly lurched off his feet once again. Sinbad decided he that was glad Firouz had not been able to finish his sentence, and paused only long enough to make sure his friend had not gone overboard before squinting through the rain before him, trying desperately to make out the figures on deck. He could recognize his brother's form at the other end of the ship, shouting orders to the men even as he barely managed to remain standing in the impact from the latest wave. He could make out Rongar standing at one side of the deck, barely managing to catch another sailor from going overboard. As relieved as he was to see them both safe and alive, they were not who he was looking for. Sinbad pushed his soaked hair out of his eyes and continued searching the deck, his eyes peering relentlessly for -

"Maeve!"

He was unsure whether his voice had even carried over the cacophony around him, but it didn't matter. He reached out for her with his mind, and she heard him. She had been standing midship, holding onto the mast for dear life, and even as she slipped and slid her way over to him, she knew what he was going to ask.

Sinbad was relieved to see the sorceress safe and unharmed, and at any other time he might have noticed the strange, rather pained expression on her face, but at the moment he had more pressing issues. It was obvious that they could not survive this storm; there was no way they could find a safe harbor, and the ship was practically being torn apart around them. In all his days of sailing, Sinbad had never come up against a storm like this, and he knew it was not natural. This was a creation of magic, black magic, and its purpose was obviously to destroy them.

"Maeve." Sinbad grabbed her hand and pulled the Celtic sorceress up next to him, blinking in the rain as she half-fell against Firouz. "You have to do something about this, anything . . . " he shouted. He knew that Maeve had tried to quell gentler storms before, and she had never proved strong enough. But he had no choice; at this point they had to try anything. She swallowed hard, shaking her head, and Sinbad did not notice the way she was trembling against him. "I don't think I can! " she shouted, raking back her hair. "This storm . . . it's too powerful - "

"Maeve you have to try!" He gripped her arm and let her feel his desperation. "We can't survive this on our own! You have to try!"

Maeve did indeed feel Sinbad's desperation, and she knew he was right, she knew all too well. This storm was pure black magic, and in a few minutes it would destroy them. She knew of only one spell that might work, a spell she had never dared use before, and she also knew that in her present condition casting that spell could be very dangerous. Not that it really made a difference. If she didn't cast it, they would all be dead.

Maeve caught her breath at that thought, suddenly feeling strangely calm. Sinbad did not realize what it was he was asking of her; he did not realize what was happening to her, for she had hidden it well. Even Dermott was unaware. If either of them knew . . . however, there was no guarantee that she would die . . .

But if this was her time, what better way to go than this?

"All right," she shouted at him, with sudden renewed confidence. "I'll try."

Yet another wave hit the ship, and they all lurched with the impact. Behind her, Maeve could hear Firouz muttering some prayer as he gripped the railing, and that definitely increased her urgency. When a scientist prays, you know things are serious.

Pushing away from the tiller, Maeve slid her way over to the door that led below deck and barely managed to get it open, nearly falling down the short flight of stairs as she did so. The Nomad was rocking so violently that it took all of her strength just to stay on her feet, even below deck. But she was glad to be out of the wind and rain, anyway, as she hurried over to her cabin where her spell books were. And as she threw open the door and rushed inside, her hands reached for a large book in her bag, one that she had never used before, one that she was not yet supposed to use. But that hardly mattered now.

Yanking it out of the satchel, she hefted the huge volume onto her small desk, feeling rainwater rolling down her face, and riffled through it hurriedly until she found the page that she sought. It was heavily inscribed and written in a strange language, but Maeve was well versed in its translation, and so she sat down at her desk and took another deep breath, preparing herself to cast what would probably be the most important spell of her life.

Sinbad could almost hear the ship groaning as another wave slammed into her side. Splintered wood and torn sail flew about him, and the wind had become a howling wail that blocked out nearly all other sound. As bad as the storm had been only a few moments ago, it had grown suddenly, horrendously worse. None of them were even trying to control the ship anymore, as it was obviously a wasted effort. Everyone was simply holding on for dear life now, waiting for the Nomad's inevitable doom as she was tossed mercilessly atop the waves. He could no longer see Doubar or Rongar or any of the other sailors through the rain, and Firouz was clutching the railing behind him and shouting something that Sinbad could not hear. Grimacing, he felt another wave pound into the ship, and he knew that they were all going to die in a matter of minutes if Maeve didn't find a way to stop this. She was now their only hope, and he sent a prayer up to Allah to give her the strength and courage to quell the storm.

The shrieking of the wind grew even louder, and it stung his eyes. He thought he heard the sound of someone screaming, but when he opened his eyes again he saw only the falling rain and the lurching sky above them, and he knew that there was nothing he could do for his men. Now he clutched the tiller only to keep from being thrown overboard himself, and from behind him he suddenly heard Firouz cry out as the Nomad lurched abruptly to the side. And this time, the scientist did fly overboard.

"Firouz!" Sinbad barely heard his own voice as he grabbed for the man, but it was already too late. His hand closed on empty air, and almost instantly Firouz vanished into the angry mass of waves below them and was gone. "No!" Sinbad felt his heart drop and he knew there was nothing he could do. The ship lurched again, violently, this time to the other side, and Sinbad heard the shouts of other men as they were thrown across the deck and then surely overboard. He could only pray that Rongar and Doubar were not among them.

He felt his hand slipping across the slick wood of the tiller, and he realized suddenly that he was about to lose his grip. He feet were sliding out from under him and the pounding rain and wind made a lethal combination. Even as he tried to readjust his hold on the tiller he could feel himself losing balance, and his fingers slipped and slid over the wood uselessly. And as he felt himself slowly being pulled away from the tiller, from the only thing that was keeping him above water, he sent out one last plea.

Maeve, he thought desperately, even as his fingers suddenly came free. Sinbad felt himself go flying across the deck and slam into the railing, barely managing to catch himself before going over the side. Maeve . . .

And then, suddenly, as if answer to his silent call, there was a tremendous clap of thunder, so loud that it even blocked out the sound of the wind and rain, and it filled his ears completely, causing him to cry out in pain. The Nomad lurched again, more violently than ever, and it was almost as if unseen hands were playing with the ship, yanking it back and forth, unable to decide. There was another clap of thunder, and Sinbad felt his ears ringing in pain. He somehow managed to pull himself to his feet, and that was when he saw the light, a pure golden glow, emanating from somewhere above them, directly in the heart of the storm. It slowly grew in strength, and as it did so, the storm's fury began to lessen slightly, as if it were being pushed back.

"Maeve," Sinbad murmured to himself, and he knew that her spell was working. She was somehow managing to push back the darkness.

But just as it seemed she had succeeded, just as the wind had died down to a mere torrent and the rain had lessened to nothing more than a simple downpour, the darkness above them fought back. It gathered itself and surrounded the light, pushing inwards until the glow of it began to fade and disappear, smothered by the dark clouds. Sinbad felt his heart stop as he watched, knowing that Maeve was being overcome, knowing that she could not possibly withstand such a concentrated onslaught for long.

And then, just as it seemed the light had completely faded and disappeared, just as the wind again began to scream and the storm prepared itself for one last deadly attack, there was a huge burst of power from above. The light was blinding and it pierced through the dark clouds like a beacon, shattering the cohesion of the storm and throwing Sinbad and every other man still on board right off their feet. He was thrown to the deck, and the wind was momentarily knocked out of him as he landed hard on his back. The sheer power that suddenly filled the air seemed to make everything tremble.

And then it was over.

For a moment Sinbad just lay there, dazed. His entire body was soaked and hurting, and his ears were ringing loudly. Around him the air seemed to be buzzing with dissipating energy. Distantly he was aware of the rain dying down and then stopping completely, and the sound of the wind faded away. The Nomad slowly righted itself on the waves, and Sinbad realized suddenly that the storm had somehow vanished.

Opening his eyes, he had to squint for a moment before he could recognize the sky above them. A blue, clear sky, without a cloud to be seen. Almost unable to believe what he was seeing, Sinbad slowly pulled himself to his feet and looked around. Other sailors were doing the same around him, their expressions mirroring his own, and he spotted Doubar and Rongar moving towards him, grinning.

"I don't believe it!" Doubar was laughing as he came forward and hugged Sinbad tightly. "It's a miracle!"

"Sinbad!"

They all turned around, and Sinbad felt his jaw drop as he saw Firouz striding towards them, soaking wet (like all of them) but alive and well and aboard the Nomad once again. He had a rather confused, ecstatic grin on his face.

"Firouz!" Sinbad was overjoyed and amazed to see him again, and they all hugged each other, laughing with relief. Sinbad could not contain his joy and relief to see his crew alive and well. In fact, as he took a moment to count, he realized with amazement that every single one of his men was present and accounted for. And even more astounding, the sails that had only a few moments ago been shredded and useless were now whole and in perfect working order. In fact, other than being thoroughly soaked, the Nomad appeared entirely undamaged by the storm, as if it had never happened.

"By the Gods." Doubar murmured breathlessly. "Allah was surely watching over us today, little brother."

"Aye." Sinbad's gaze took in his ship once more, and he felt himself grinning. "Allah and Maeve."

Firouz frowned suddenly. "Where is Maeve, anyway?"

They all fell silent. It was then that Sinbad finally realized that the Celtic sorceress had not yet returned from her spell casting. He had been so overcome by their miraculous rescue and the reappearance of his crew that he had almost forgotten. His heart suddenly began to hammer, and he bolted for the door. The others watched in confusion even as they moved to follow him. But Sinbad didn't notice. All he knew, suddenly, was that Maeve was not with him and that something was terribly wrong with her. He could sense it, he could feel it now, and it reminded him of what he had felt earlier, only vastly intensified. But he didn't even bother to try and understand it time.

He nearly fell down the stairs in his rush to get to Maeve's cabin, for the wood was still wet, and Sinbad slipped and slid across the floor several times as he hurried to her door. Without pause he flung it open, and what he saw made his heart drop.

"Maeve!"

The sorceress was hunched over her desk, her head and arms resting on one of her spell books, and she was quite obviously unconscious. But Sinbad knew it was more than that as he scrambled to her side, his heart pounding in fear. All of the torches and candles in her cabin had blown out, and an ominous cold hung in the air. The room seemed very dark, even though outside the sun was now shining brightly.

"Maeve - " Breathlessly he moved to lift her head, and as he did so he noticed the blood. It stained her sleeves and the book beneath her, and that was when he realized that her hands were bleeding. Gasping, he tenderly lifted up her right arm and saw the open welts on her hands, as if she had been burned. They still oozed blood, and he could only guess that they had been caused by her spell.

"Maeve, come on - " he whispered to her, feeling his desperation grow. The sight of her hands did not worry him nearly as much as the sight of her face, her pale, pale face, and her slack expression. He brushed back her hair (still damp from the storm) to feel her forehead, and the coldness of her skin startled him. He reached for her wrist, feeling her blood against his fingertips as he felt for a pulse. There was one, but it was faint and weak, and the flesh of her arm was as cold as her face had been. Sinbad felt his heart pounding as he realized that Maeve was in deep trouble.

By this time Doubar and Rongar had followed him into the room, and Sinbad didn't even bother to look up at them. "Get Firouz!" he ordered, and then without waiting for one of them to do so, he shouted "Firouz!"

"Great Gods." Doubar gasped as he caught sight of Maeve. "What happened to her?"

Sinbad shook his head; he had no time for questions. He nodded to them as he carefully pulled Maeve into his arms. "Help me get her to the bed," he ordered, and even as they did so he called for the scientist once more.

"Firouz!" he roared. "Get in here!"

The scientist finally appeared in the doorway, looking amazed and flustered. "Sinbad, the hull has been completely mended, and I believe that we have been restored to our original course - " He stopped as he caught sight of Maeve, and his jaw dropped. "Great stars!" he exclaimed, rushing to her bedside. "What happened here?"

Sinbad shook his head again, impatient with hearing the same question over and over. "I don't know. It must have something to do with the spell she cast," he replied shortly. Firouz moved to check her pulse, and he gave a little cry of surprise as he suddenly noticed the blood on Maeve's hands and arms.

"She's unconscious and freezing cold," Sinbad said urgently, hovering up near her. "And her pulse is weak. I already checked."

Firouz grimaced as he studied her hands. "What happened here?" he asked again, baffled, and Sinbad wanted to scream.

"Firouz, I don't know what happened!" he exclaimed, in a tone that made everyone look at him in startlement. "Just help her, all right? Do something for her! Anything!"

Sinbad wondered wildly if he was the only one who realized the severity of the situation. Why weren't the others as worried about Maeve as he was, he wondered impatiently? Couldn't they see how sick she was -?

Sinbad caught himself suddenly, hearing his own thoughts.

Sick? Yes, Maeve was sick, he could feel it; he knew it as certainly as he knew his own name. He could feel it in his bones. He had felt it earlier, and ignored it. But now it was unmistakable; he knew it just by looking at her, and, more directly, by touching her. Maeve was deathly ill, and he was the only one who realized it.

Sinbad forced himself to speak in a gentler tone, even as panic he could not entirely understand threatened to overtake him. "I'm sorry, Firouz," he managed, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "Just - please." He looked at Maeve's face and heard the desperation in his voice as he spoke again. "Help her."

Firouz looked at the emotion in his captain's eyes and saw it for what it was. He nodded. "I understand, Sinbad," he replied solemnly. "I'll do everything I can for her, I swear it."

Sinbad nodded, never removing his eyes from the young woman's face, and somehow he could feel a strange, ominous darkness slipping around her. And he wondered suddenly if Firouz could do anything to help her at all.

Maeve did not awaken for several hours. In fact, it was past midnight when she finally did so. Firouz had dressed the burns on her hands (the only visible wounds on her body) and wrapped her palms in soft bandages, although to his surprise her blood didn't seem to be clotting properly, for her hands were still bleeding slightly despite his best efforts. He had also been applying cool cloths to her forehead, for barely an hour after her initial collapse the sorceress had suddenly turned feverish. He was still unable to determine what was wrong with her, except to deduce that her body was obviously undergoing some sort of massive physical collapse. Her skin had gone from pale to ashen, and she seemed to have trouble breathing.

Firouz had not left Maeve's side all day, but he was rapidly growing more desperate. He had tried every remedy he could think of, all to know avail. He had no idea what was causing her sickness, and even worse, he had no idea how to stop it. All he did know was that Maeve was dangerously ill, and that she was rapidly getting worse. Out of sheer desperation he had even tried reading the book Maeve had been using when she collapsed, hoping that perhaps it would offer some clue to her ailment, but the pages were stained with her blood and written in a language that Firouz could neither recognize nor decipher.

Dermott was perched nearby, keeping safe watch over his mistress, and Firouz could almost swear that the hawk knew what was happening. He had shown up shortly after Sinbad had found Maeve (for Dermott had been topside with Maeve when the storm had first hit, and, according to Sinbad, had apparently been blown quite a distance away), and the young captain had been quite relieved to see him. He insisted that the bird stay with Maeve always. Firouz had not argued with this, knowing that Maeve and Dermott were connected somehow, but he had been a little surprised at the way Sinbad seemed to communicate with the animal. It had been like that ever since he and Maeve had had their little adventure on Sky Island, only a few weeks ago, and neither Sinbad nor Maeve had yet seemed willing to explain it.

Sinbad came down to check on Maeve as often as possible (in fact, he was spending more time below decks than above), but he could not ignore his duties, and Firouz knew that that was frustrating him. However, he seemed comforted knowing that Dermott was with her, and that in turn comforted Firouz.

The scientist was sitting in a chair at Maeve's bedside, reading one of his scrolls in the torchlight and hoping to find some sort of clue about Maeve's illness, when she suddenly opened her eyes. He was the only one in the room then, except for Dermott, for Sinbad had just gone back above deck (reluctantly) to take his turn at the tiller (relieving Doubar) and Rongar (who had been keeping Firouz company for quite some time) had retired to get some sleep at his friend's insistence. They had all been drifting in and out of the cabin, offering moral support and comfort, hoping perhaps that their presence would make some sort of difference, but all knowing somehow that their actions were useless.

So absorbed in his reading was he that Firouz did not realize the sorceress was conscious again until she spoke.

"Firouz?"

Maeve's voice was weak and tired, but the scientist nearly jumped out of his seat anyway. He dropped his scroll and leapt to his feet. Behind him Dermott chattered excitedly.

"Maeve!" Firouz was overjoyed to see her awake again. That could only be a good sign. "How do you feel?" He wanted to take one of her hands, but he caught himself before doing so. Instead he reached forward to touch her face, noticing with some disappointment that her fever had not changed.

Maeve sighed, closing her eyes again as if in pain. "I don't know," she murmured. She raised a hand to touch her face and suddenly noticed the bandages there. She frowned in dim confusion. "What happened to me?"

"Don't you remember?" Firouz tried to gaze into her eyes, noticing that they were rather glazed, and decided that she was still suffering the effects of her fever. "You cast a spell."

"A spell?" Maeve's frown deepened and she looked away from him, as if trying to remember. "A spell…."

Dermott still cackled behind them, but Maeve did not seem to notice. Suddenly she gasped and looked back down at her hands, then the rest of her body. Her expression fell as she studied herself, and she leaned back against her pillows once more, closing her eyes.

"Of course." Her voice was weak, empty. Unsurprised. "The spell. I should have known . . . Dim-Dim told me . . . "

Firouz went to the door, rather unwilling to take his eyes off of the young woman (who was obviously delusional) and swung it open, intent on calling Sinbad. But before he could even open his mouth Sinbad was there, pushing his way past Firouz.

"Maeve?" He went to her side immediately, taking a seat in Firouz's chair.

"Sinbad." Firouz glanced out the open door in bafflement. "How did you know she -?"

But the young captain did not even seem to hear his words. All of his attention was focused on the woman in the bed. "Maeve, how do you feel?" Sinbad brushed back her hair tenderly, and his voice was gentler than Firouz had heard it since this whole thing started.

"Sinbad." Maeve looked up at him dazedly. "My spell . . . it worked . . .?"

"Yes, it did." He smiled at her and nodded, strangely relieved by that question. Without thinking he reached out to take one of her hands and met up instead with a thick layer of bandages. But if it caused Maeve any pain she didn't seem to notice, and so instead he instead he settled with wrapping his fingers around her wrist. The thrum of her pulse, however weak, was comforting. "Your spell worked perfectly," he continued. "You saved the ship and all of our lives."

She smiled with great relief and seemed to sink back a little farther into her pillows. She closed her eyes again. "Thank the gods." she murmured, sighing. "I was afraid we would all die . . . "

"Well, now none of us will." Sinbad put in, trying to sound upbeat. But as he looked at her he could not hide the worry from his face, and at that moment he was glad her eyes were closed. Just by touching her he could feel her pain, and as amazed by that as he was, it only served to frighten him further. For he knew that even though she was awake, Maeve was not getting any better. He gazed down at her for a moment, studying her lovely face, and suddenly reached forward to brush his fingers across her cheek in a gentle caress. She opened her eyes at that and forced a smile, and Sinbad (for some reason) felt as though his heart was breaking.

"Maeve, what happened?" he asked softly, trying to push away such thoughts. "What did this to you?"

The sorceress frowned slightly, as if surprised by his question. "A spell," she murmured, as if it was obvious. "A spell did this . . . before the storm . . . Sinbad, I knew I shouldn't have cast, I knew it would get me, but I had no choice, I had to cast, or otherwise we would all have died, the storm was too strong . . . "

Sinbad frowned, trying to make sense of her words and the rising, rambling tone of her voice, and Firouz touched his shoulder."

"Sinbad, she's still feverish and she's obviously not thinking clearly." He glanced at her sympathetically. "She probably doesn't even know what she's talking about right now. We should probably just let her rest until her strength returns - "

"No!" Maeve's voice startled them both, and Sinbad looked down into deep brown eyes that were suddenly, completely clear. She gripped his arm with one hand, not seeming to notice the bandages. "I have to tell you, Sinbad. I must tell you, all of you." And for the first time her gaze swept up to include Dermott. "You have to know that it's not your fault . . . "

"What?" Sinbad felt his frown deepening at those words, and he reached forward again to touch her face. The coldness was gone, replaced, as Firouz had said, by fever. "What's not my fault?"

Maeve shook her head impatiently. "The spell," she murmured, grimacing suddenly, as if in pain. "It's not your fault. I know that - that you'll blame yourself, you and Dermott, and it's not your fault . . . " Suddenly she broke into a fit of violent coughing, and Sinbad helped her to sit up, hearing a rattling in her chest that he knew was not good. Firouz rushed over to his medicine bag and began mixing something for her to drink.

From his perch nearby Dermott cackled anxiously, and Sinbad could feel his worry. He was the one who had alerted Sinbad to Maeve's awakening in the first place, and he was not trying to hide his concern.

"Maeve . . . " Sinbad was supporting her with both arms as she coughed, and so when she began to tremble he knew it right away. In fact, even as her coughs began to finally die down the tremors arose even stronger, until she was visibly shaking. It was then that he noticed a bit of blood on her lips, and he realized that she had been coughing it up.

"Firouz -" Maeve's skin suddenly turned cold again under his fingers and Sinbad helped her to lie back down, pulling the blankets back over her. "Something's happening to her -!"

Firouz rushed back over to Maeve's side, knocking over the cup he had been preparing in his haste. He reached to check her pulse and temperature, and then gasped. "By the Gods!" he exclaimed. "She's freezing! Just a minute ago she was feverish, and now it’s as if - "

"Firouz, do something!" Sinbad cut him off, not caring about the man's diagnosis. Maeve's eyes were half-closed, and he was no longer certain that she was even conscious anymore, but she was still trembling and her breath came in hoarse gasps. He could feel her slipping away, and it absolutely terrified him.

Firouz rushed about, searching frantically for something to help Maeve, and Sinbad knew somehow that it would be no use. And without even thinking he grabbed Maeve's hands in his own, not caring about the bandages, and willed her to live. He sent his own strength and energy into her body, and suddenly he could feel the darkness that surrounded her, he could feel her illness like a sickly dark plague that infested her spirit. For this was not just a disease of the body, but a disease of the very soul. It was as if she was being surrounded by darkness, like the light in the storm, and she was simply being smothered to death with it. Maeve, come on, he thought to her in desperation. Don't leave me. Fight this with me . . .we can fight this . . .

And Sinbad willed his strength upon her, and pushed the darkness back. He had no idea what he was doing, or how he was doing it, but at the moment he didn't care. For all he knew was that it was working. Maeve's trembling slowly decreased, and after a long moment her breathing returned to normal. And when he was certain that she was stable again, Sinbad released her hands and leaned back wearily, disconnecting from her somehow, feeling as if he had just run a race. Firouz seemed torn between staring at his captain and staring at Maeve, who now lay perfectly still.

"Sinbad, what happened?" he asked in amazement. "What did you do? It's amazing . . . she seems to be recovering all of the sudden . . . Are you all right?" For he had noticed the expression on Sinbad's face, a look of utter exhaustion, and he was startled.

But Sinbad waved away his concern and leaned towards Maeve, who was coming around again. "I'm all right, Firouz." he murmured. He noticed Maeve frown slightly and, remembering her coughing, told Firouz to get her something to drink.

When she opened her eyes again Maeve looked and felt considerably better than before, and she gazed up to see Sinbad still sitting at her bedside. She noticed the expression on his face and frowned with tired confusion. The events of the last few moments (not to mention days) were a blur. "What happened?" she asked again, and was forced to clear her throat once or twice before her voice would come. Her hands were throbbing, there was the taste of blood in her mouth, and her throat was stinging quite painfully.

Sinbad smiled with what seemed to be great relief. Maeve sensed that he was hiding something from her, but she was far too tired to worry about it. "You tell me," he replied, with an attempt at humor. "You scared us there for a minute."

Dermott chose that moment to hop down onto the bed, and he chattered at Maeve angrily from her feet, emphasizing Sinbad's words. Maeve noticed Sinbad wince as the bird's irate "voice" rang through his mind. He was still not quite accustomed to it.

She sighed deeply and did a little wincing if her own. "All right, all right," she relented. "I'll talk already. You don't have to yell." She paused to accept Firouz's cup and drank deeply, a little glad for the distraction, trying to ignore her sore throat and the look of pure amazement on the scientist's face. Firouz could hardly believe what he was seeing, for Maeve seemed much recovered from just a few moments ago, and she was obviously in a clearer state of mind. In fact, she suddenly seemed a lot like her old self. But he had no idea why (or how), and he told her as much as she handed him back the glass.

Maeve smiled weakly, but there must have been something in her expression that worried them, because neither man (nor bird, for that matter) appeared very comforted by it.

"It's a little complicated," she began wearily. She gazed up at them, knowing that she had to tell them the truth and dreading every minute of it. None of them were going to be happy, especially Sinbad and Dermott. And they were going to be even more upset when they realized that she had been hiding this from them. But she had no choice, she had to tell them, for already she could feel the sickness creeping back up on her again, invading her, body and soul, and she knew her time grew short.

Taking a deep breath, she decided just to come right out with it. After all, subtlety had never been one of her strong points.

"A spell was cast upon me," she said, plainly.

Sinbad and Firouz both opened their mouths to speak, but Maeve continued on before they could do so. "I first felt it yesterday, when we were on deck." She locked eyes with Sinbad. "That was what happened to me."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sinbad and Dermott's voices melded together in her mind, one spoken and one thought, and Maeve would have laughed at that if she hadn't felt so sick. The two of them had become something of a united force now that they could communicate. However, neither of them seemed to notice, and Firouz, of course, was totally oblivious.

"What kind of spell?" Sinbad went on. His beautiful eyes were dark with fear for her; she could feel that, along with a very distinct frustration at her actions.

Maeve paused. She was most hesitant about this next part, but she had no choice. Taking one more deep breath, she braced herself and spoke her next words, as calmly and quietly as possible.

"A death spell."

"A death spell?" This time it was three voices in unison, Firouz's included, and Maeve winced again. Dermott hopped up and down angrily incensed with his sister for keeping this from him. Maeve hurried to explain again, before she could be barraged with questions.

"I wasn't certain about it until last night," she continued. "But I was pretty sure that I could get rid of it on my own. It wasn't a very strong spell, and there were some counter spells that I was trying - "

"Wasn't a strong spell?" Sinbad echoed incredulously. "Maeve, look at what it did to you! Why didn't you tell us, why -?"

"Sinbad," Maeve cut him off with a stern look, trying to ignore a sudden feeling of weakness in her legs (which was rather odd, considering she wasn't standing up). "I didn't tell any of you because I didn't want you to worry, like you are now."

"Never mind the fact that we would have been right," Sinbad retorted.

Maeve chose to ignore that statement, although Dermott quite vocally agreed with it.

"And I was able to push it back," she went on, doggedly. "My spells were working. The only catch was that I - " she stopped mid-sentence, feeling a sudden dull pain in her chest, and was forced to take several deep breaths before she could go on. Her heart seemed to be pounding, and she felt very warm all of the sudden. But she forced herself to continue anyway, trying hard to ignore the expressions on the faces around her. "The only catch was that I was unable to cast any other spells. I had to concentrate all of my power on keeping the death spell at bay, on canceling it. And it was working, until the storm came."

"When you used your magic to banish it." Sinbad stared at her with slow realization, feeling as if everything was suddenly coming together. He had felt the incredible power she had used to destroy that storm (it was probably the strongest spell he had ever seen her cast), and in doing so she had left herself vulnerable to the death spell. Extremely vulnerable.

"I don't understand." Firouz put in. "Are you saying the storm made you sicker? And how can a spell - "

"Firouz, when I cast that spell to break up the storm I used a great amount of strength," Maeve interrupted, feeling tired all of the sudden and wanting to get all of this out at once. "And afterwards I was left vulnerable to the death spell. I had no strength left to keep it at bay." She coughed a little again before continuing on, feeling a strange heaviness setting in over her lungs. "Dim-Dim once told me that casting other spells when one was under the influence of a death spell was very dangerous, because you're never given a chance to recoup your strength. As soon as mine was taken, the death spell set in full force, and I have no power left to fight it, because my strength will never return."

"But I thought you said this was a weak death spell."

"It is." Maeve shook her head slightly, feeling a little dizzy all of the sudden. "It was. What I mean is, it was not originally a powerful spell. If it hadn't been for the storm I probably could have gotten rid of it on my own with no problems. But it is a very well crafted spell. And now that my resistance is gone, it's become stronger as I have become weaker."

"So the storm and the spell could be connected." Sinbad watched Maeve carefully, more than a little aware of what was happening to her. She was trying to hide it, but he could sense the sickness returning again, and he was dismayed at how quickly it was doing so.

"I don't know." Maeve sank back a little further into her bed, feeling a little dazed. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

"But who would have cast such a spell?" Firouz asked, glancing quickly at Sinbad. "Rumina?"

"No." Maeve shook her head. This was one thing she was quite certain of. "Not Rumina. I would have sensed her magic. Besides which, this is way too subtle for her tastes. She would have already shown up to gloat."

Firouz considered. "That's probably true."

"Maeve." Sinbad reached forward to touch her again. "I don't care about who cast the spell. Right now all I care about is getting it off of you."

She frowned slightly, and Sinbad could feel her skin growing warmer again, even as he touched her. He could sense her pain returning, and it increased his resolve.

He took a deep breath. "So how do we get rid of it?"

Maeve sighed again, looking rather pained. "We don't."

Sinbad and Firouz exchanged glances. "What do you mean, we don't?"

"There's no way to get rid of a death spell once it becomes this active." she explained, looking up at them wearily. And was it her imagination, or was the room starting to swim? "None of you can do anything to stop the spell, and neither can I."

Sinbad frowned. "But Maeve, just a minute ago I was able to push it away. I'll just do that again, as many times as it takes, and - "

"No," Maeve shook her head again and smiled up at him weakly. "You can't continue to sustain me like that, Sinbad. The spell will return every time, as it's doing now. You'd just end up wasting your own strength and wearing yourself out."

"What, then?" Sinbad was slowly growing desperate as he realized what Maeve was saying. He took her hands in his, even over the bandages. "What do we do?" He looked down into her beautiful eyes and saw the pain there, and his desperation grew. "Maeve, I'm not going to let you die," he said sternly. "I won't. There has to be something we can do, anything . . . "

Maeve opened her mouth to reply but never got the words out as another coughing fit overtook her. Again Sinbad helped her to sit up, and Firouz reached back over for the glass. She trembled against him, and it felt as though her lungs were being ripped from her chest. After several minutes she managed to gain control of herself again, and Maeve accepted the glass from Firouz and drank deeply, trying to wash the taste of blood from her mouth. Afterwards Sinbad helped her to lie back down, just as he had done before. And then he reached for her hands . . .

And through her pain, Maeve pulled away from him.

"No." she gasped, shaking her head. "Sinbad, don't, please. The spell can only be broken . . . I can only be healed by - " She coughed again, painfully, and managed to finish her sentence. "By someone who shares my blood."

"Shares your blood?" Sinbad echoed. His fear for her was greater than anything he had ever known, and he could still feel that strange darkness surrounding her, suffocating her slowly. He sensed that her time was drawing near, and it terrified him. He wished suddenly that he had paid more attention to Dim-Dim's lectures on magic, for he had no idea what to do in a situation like this. He felt completely useless, and it took all of his strength just to concentrate on her words. "You mean one of your family, a blood relative?"

Maeve nodded, grimacing in another flash of pain, and Sinbad glanced at Dermott, feeling his heart sink further. He was the only blood relative Maeve had left, but what could he possibly do in the form of a hawk?

Firouz frowned, oblivious to Sinbad's expression. "But we're weeks away from Eire." he said helplessly. "How could we possibly - "

"No." Maeve shook her head again, and Sinbad saw a familiar flash of irritation cross her face. It lifted his spirits a little. "I have . . . no family on Eire." she coughed again and tried to clear her throat. "Visenya. Go to Visenya."

"Visenya?" Sinbad's hopes rose sharply. The island was only a day or two's journey from their current course, which had somehow been restored during Maeve's spell. They could reach it even faster if the wind kept up.

She nodded. "Go there. Find. . .. find Threnody. A healer."

Sinbad nodded. "We will. I swear." His eyes burned with determination, and he reached forward to smooth back her hair, feeling a sheen of perspiration across her brow. She had a fever, and was trembling again.

"Is this an aunt of yours?" Firouz asked, mostly just to distract the young woman from her pain. He reached over for another soaked cloth and pressed it gently to her forehead. "A cousin?"

"No." Maeve shook her head again and looked up at them weakly, as if she suddenly wanted to watch their faces. She gazed at Sinbad as she spoke.

"Threnody - " She took a deep breath, trying to calm her suddenly pounding heart, and cleared her throat again, more successfully this time. "Threnody is my sister."

Sinbad felt his jaw drop, a reaction that was not lost upon Maeve. Despite herself, she smiled at his expression. But she was far too sick to worry about him at the moment.

So she shrugged, tiredly. "Surprise."

Part Two

Several hours later Sinbad stood at the tiller of the Nomad, watching the wind as it filled the sails in the early morning sunlight. He was relieved that it was still holding, and he sent a prayer of thanks up to Allah for granting him the speed to save Maeve.

He was certain that they would reach Visenya by the following morning, and once they did he was taking Dermott and the others and scouring the island for Maeve's sister. Only Firouz would stay behind, to keep watch over Maeve, although in truth Sinbad had to wonder how much the scientist could really do for her. Maeve's sickness was caused by magic, and that was something Firouz knew little about. Sinbad knew that Maeve's only hope lay with her sister, and he was bound and determined to find her.

Although he was still getting over the fact that she even had a sister.

Sinbad had told Rongar and Doubar what Maeve had said, and although they had been surprised to hear it, Sinbad had been even more so. No one else besides him (aboard ship, at least) knew about Maeve's family or about Dermott's true identity, and he still felt a little reluctant to reveal Maeve's secret without her consent. And for the umpteenth time he thought back to their conversation on Sky Island, when Maeve had first told him about her family and Dermott. Through all of it, she had never once mentioned having a sister, let alone any other surviving family members besides her brother. Sinbad was very puzzled by that. After all, if she had felt comfortable enough with him to divulge so much about her childhood and her past, why would she not mention this?

He might have questioned her further about it, but almost immediately after she had revealed this secret Maeve had grown extremely weak, and Firouz had insisted that she sleep while she had the chance, while her tremors and coughing fits had subsided. She was still sleeping now, deeply, with Firouz at her side, and Sinbad was grateful for that. Any rest Maeve could get would be extremely helpful, for it was obvious, especially to him, that the spell was draining her strength very rapidly. His questions could wait until she was well again. They were meaningless in comparison to her life.

He had already checked on Maeve twice and as always Firouz had insisted that he would report any change in the sorceress's condition to him immediately. Dermott was also still there, perched by his sister's bedside, and Sinbad knew that he would not hesitate to alert him if anything else happened. He also knew that his own connection with the sorceress was strong, and he was certain that he would feel it if anything happened to her. But still he felt a need to go down and check on her yet again, to see with his own eyes that Maeve was still alive and breathing, that she had not yet slipped away from him.

"Little brother?"

Sinbad looked up, realizing suddenly that Doubar had been speaking to him.

"Didn't you hear me?" The big man came to stand beside him, a worried expression on his face. "I called you four times already."

"Oh." Sinbad frowned slightly and shook his head. "Sorry. I suppose my mind is elsewhere."

Doubar nodded knowingly, leaning back against the railing. "With Maeve."

Sinbad glanced at Doubar and nodded. He had managed to hide his fear from Maeve, but he could not hide it from his brother. "She's getting weaker, Doubar." he said quietly. "You should have seen her in there. Just speaking is difficult for her now."

Doubar glanced down at the deck towards Maeve's cabin. "I know. I saw her earlier this morning." He sighed and placed a hand on Sinbad's arm. "Don't worry, little brother. Allah willing, we'll find this sister of hers and have Maeve back to normal and yelling at you again by tomorrow night."

Sinbad smiled a little and gazed out to sea. But the expression was empty. The sun was rising higher in the perfect blue sky and the water seemed as clear and calm as a dream. And for the first time in a long time, the sight of the ocean gave him no comfort.

"I hope you're right, Doubar," he murmured, more to himself than anyone. "I hope you're right."

*****

The Nomad reached the small island called Visenya early the following morning, just as Sinbad had predicted. The sky was overcast and cloudy, and the air was strangely chilled for a summer morning, punctuated by a cold breeze that had quickly given out as they neared the island. Sinbad tried not to concentrate on these things as he gave orders to lower the longboats and go to shore. If he had been the superstitious type, however, he might have considered all of this a bad omen.

It was both longboats that headed to shore that morning; one filled with Sinbad and his usual group and the other with as many others sailors as he could spare to help in the search. Maeve's time was running short, and she had, in fact, spent nearly the entire previous day and following morning either asleep or in various stages of unconsciousness. When she did awaken she had been disoriented and fevered, and she was unable to give Sinbad any more clues about her sister. So he had no idea what Threnody looked like, or even how old she was. But Sinbad had found himself incredibly grateful to be able to communicate with Dermott, who had told him to search for a redheaded young woman of about twenty years old or so. Maeve's brother had spent little time explaining things further, for he had been far too preoccupied with his sister's illness and the task of finding Threnody, and the only other thing he had mentioned was something about them not having seen each other in several years. Even now Dermott sailed out above them, shrieking with eagerness to reach the isle as the men below him rowed as fast as they dared. Sinbad was counting heavily upon the hawk to find Threnody first (she was his sister, too, after all), but he was taking no chances.

They hit the beach in record time and, following Dermott's directions, headed up into the hills. Shortly thereafter they found themselves in a rather large village, and Sinbad split everyone up, intent on covering as much ground as possible. As everyone scattered, Sinbad looked around. None of the villagers seemed overly alarmed or interested by the small group of total strangers who had descended so suddenly upon their village, and Sinbad figured that was probably because Visenya was so well traveled. He himself had never been here before today, but he was relieved that they had not been met by suspicious villagers wielding swords, as was so often the case.

Glancing around, Sinbad decided to approach the first person he saw, which turned out to be an older gentleman sitting outside of a tavern and smoking a long pipe. Taking a deep breath, Sinbad tried to keep from looking as desperate as he felt as he headed over.

"Excuse me, sir -?"

The man looked up with slight surprise, and Sinbad caught a whiff of his pipe, some exotic blend that he had never smelled before. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me?"

The man laughed and leaned back a little in his chair. "Well that depends, young man. I'm afraid that I'm a bit too old to be of much help to anyone these days."

Sinbad smiled a little, but he had no time for idle banter. "Actually, I'm looking for someone," he went on. "A healer, named Threnody. I was told she would be on this island somewhere. Would you happen to know her?"

The man blinked in surprise. "Why yes, I do." He leaned back further in his chair and smiled thoughtfully. "A lovely young thing. A bit spirited, but -"

"So you know her?" Sinbad could hardly believe his luck. He glanced at the people passing around him, searching anxiously for the telltale red hair. "Do you know where she is?"

The man frowned a little at Sinbad's urgent tone and studied him more closely. "What's the matter, young man?" he asked, with some concern. "Are you ill? You look quite healthy to me -"

"No," Sinbad forced himself to take a deep breath and tried to keep from grabbing the man in frustration. "No, no, it's just - I have a friend who is ill, and I need Threnody's help to save her. If you could just tell me where she is, I'll go right after her."

"Well certainly then -" The man grunted a little and got to his feet. "She went up the mountain path, like always." He pointed out beyond the village, inland to a heavily sloped, wooded area, farther beyond which mountains rose above the trees. The man looked back at Sinbad. "It's not a very well traveled path, though, and it's very easy to get lost. And there are some creatures up there that you don't want to be meeting alone." He laughed at his own jest. "Let me summon one of the youngsters, they'll guide you up -" He turned to call someone to help, but before he could even open his mouth Sinbad had given him a hurried "thank you" and hurried off towards the trees.

Sinbad had no time or need for a guide; he knew how to track, and at this point no mysterious creatures held any terror for him. And even as he neared he could see the beginning of a path entering into the forest. That had to be the one Threnody had taken. And although a part of him knew that he should have tried to locate some of the others, or even Dermott (who had taken flight to scan the village), Sinbad had no time to wait. As he reached the tree line he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have located Maeve's sister so quickly. Now all he had to do was catch up with her.

Which (he realized very quickly) would not be an easy task.

As soon as Sinbad entered the forest he had picked up Threnody's trail (the only one he could find) and set off after her. And in the beginning it had been a relatively easy job. He had no idea how long ago Maeve's sister had set off up the mountain, but her tracks were quite clear and easy to follow. However, after nearly an hour of climbing, they began to change. It was almost as if she knew she was being followed, and was purposefully trying to confuse him. Her footsteps ranged over rocks and fallen trees, in and out of bramble bushes, and even through a stream several times. More than once he had been forced to backtrack and find an alternate route, and at least twice she had nearly succeeded in losing him.

Sinbad began to grow impatient, realizing that Threnody was purposefully trying to lose him, and not knowing why. She couldn't know who he was (and if she did, why would she run?), and more importantly, how could she possibly know that anyone was following her? But unless she always traveled in such a way (in which case she was exerting a tremendous amount of extra time and energy), she was making an obvious effort to lose him. And the farther Sinbad went, the more difficult Threnody's tracks became, until finally, after nearly two hours of walking, Sinbad lost her trail entirely.

Several times he attempted to backtrack, but every time her footsteps seemed to vanish in the dust, as if she had simply stopped on the path and disappeared. Sinbad didn't know if Threnody was a sorceress like Maeve, but he was beginning to wonder.

Her trail had left off in the middle of a rather lovely glade, with trees standing tall around him and the wind whistling through the branches. The cold morning had given way to a warm, almost pleasant afternoon, and Sinbad found himself oblivious to all of it.

Now what was he going to do? Almost from the beginning Threnody's tracks had strayed from the original path, and Sinbad knew that he would now be hopelessly lost on his own. He couldn't continue on, but neither could he go back down the mountain, knowing that Maeve's only hope was somewhere up here. Feeling a burst of frustration, he wondered if difficulty was a quality that ran in Maeve's family.

Out of desperation he decided to try calling Threnody's name. She had to be nearby somewhere, and if he could just get her attention and explain why he was following her she would surely reveal herself.

Sinbad had just opened his mouth for the first yell when the sound of rustling brush caught his attention. Something (or someone) was approaching from behind him.

Spinning around he drew his saber, remembering the old man's words about creatures in the forest. Whatever it was was hidden in the tall brush and trees, and the rustling grew louder. Sinbad raised his saber, trying to peer into the shadows. He couldn't really make out any form or sound that seemed to be that of an animal, but neither could he make out anything that looked or sounded human (at least not one who was trying to sneak up on him). In fact, as the noises grew louder and more insistent it suddenly occurred to him that the noises were too loud and insistent.

And by then it was already too late.

For that was when he caught the slightest whoosh sound from behind him. And before he could even turn, something slammed hard into the back of his head. His sword dropped from his hand and he fell to the ground, stars dancing in his eyes and his head exploding in pain. He could not quite believe that someone had been able to get such a jump on him; he had heard nothing until the swing of . . . well, whatever it was that had hit him. Knowing that he was vulnerable and not knowing to whom, Sinbad made an effort to turn around where he sat, trying to ignore the searing pain. He reached somewhat blindly for his saber, trying to get a look at his assailant, and then froze.

A young woman stood above him, holding a sword leveled at his face. She had one foot on the blade of his saber, and as Sinbad lay there, blinking in the morning sun, he felt an odd sense of deja vu.

"Don't move," she said, shortly. Her voice was rather low and stern, with a very slight accent that was quite unmistakable.

Sinbad grimaced as he squinted up at her. Where had he heard that one before?

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Why are you following me?"

Sinbad held out his arms so she could see that he wasn't moving to attack her and straightened up a bit, trying to get a better look. "I mean you no harm," he said, mostly just to stall for time until his mind could clear.

Her eyes moved over his crumpled form and she almost smiled. "That's comforting," she replied, dryly. "Try answering my question."

Sinbad studied her a little more carefully. She was young (no more than nineteen or twenty, he decided), and she had long hair that fell just past her shoulders, shining red in the afternoon sunlight. She wasn't as tall as Maeve, but she was obviously fit, and there was no doubt in his mind that she knew how to use that sword (the style of which was instantly recognizable). She had a lovely face, and wore a belted brown tunic. There were several small pouches hanging from her belt, as well as a sheath for her sword and something that looked like a sling. And around her neck she wore a necklace, from which hung a small silver pendant woven in an intricate (and equally recognizable) design.

Sinbad squinted up at her. "I take it you're a Celt?" It wasn't a very intelligent comment, but at the moment it was the best he could manage.

"Aye," The girl frowned in surprise. "That I am."

"You wouldn't happen to have a sister, would you?" Sinbad glanced around and suddenly remembered something else. He gave her an uneasy look, crooking an eyebrow. "Or a bird?"

Her frown deepened. She was practically scowling now. "And how is it that I'm the one holding the sword and you're the one asking all the questions?" She motioned towards him slightly with the blade. "I'll thank you to answer mine first if you value your head."

"All right, all right," Sinbad resisted the urge to get to his feet, deciding that she probably would not take that as a friendly gesture. But that was probably just as well; he wasn't entirely certain that he would be able to stand up straight at the moment, anyway.

The girl seemed to notice his expression, and Sinbad gave her a rueful smile. "Sorry," he managed, still trying to gain control of his senses. "I just don't much like being whacked on the back of the head. It's something of an uncomfortable experience."

"And I don't like being followed." She regarded him rather distastefully, totally unmoved by his words, and her sword never wavered. "Who are you?"

Sinbad offered her his most charming smile. He held out a hand, still trying to ignore the pain in the back of his head (which had reduced itself to a deep throbbing) and said, "I'm Sinbad."

Usually that was enough. The girl's eyebrows twitched and she seemed entirely unimpressed. "The sailor?" Ignoring his hand, her eyes swept over him once more, measuring him, and then returned to his face. He nodded, noticing that her expression had not changed one iota. Which was not the reaction he was accustomed to getting from most women, although with Celtic redheads it seemed to be something of a custom. She raised an eyebrow. "And what is a man of your great fame doing lurking about in the forest?"

"Actually, I'm looking for someone," he admitted.

The girl frowned again, and Sinbad decided that he was not really surprised by that. So he tried another tack.

"I'm looking for a young woman named Threnody," he went on, watching her expression closely. "A healer. I was told she went up this path."

To her credit, the girl's expression did not change at all. In fact, she seemed to regard him with even more suspicion.

"And why would you be looking for her?" she queried, raising an eyebrow. "Are you ill?"

Sinbad gave a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his head and feeling a slight wave of nausea as he did so. The pain was slowly dying down, to his relief, but he knew he was going to have a knot there for a while. "I may be soon," he admitted. Holding his arms out, he carefully got to his feet, making sure to move slowly. "Are you her?"

The girl sighed, as if she were weary with his comments. But still she held her sword between them. "Why do you seek her?" she repeated, impatiently.

Despite himself, Sinbad fought down the urge to grin. He was positive now that he had found Maeve's sister. Besides the fact that she was dodging his questions, everything else about her practically shouted out "Maeve". Right down to the attitude.

"I'm a friend of her sister's," he replied, deciding just to be truthful. "She's very ill, and Threnody is the only one who can save her." Sinbad paused, watching her face again, and this time the girl was unable to hide her reaction. Her eyes, which (he noticed suddenly) were not brown at all but actually green in color, narrowed slightly, and for one moment she seemed to lose her cool composure.

"You know Maeve?" The girl studied him again, with something more than her previous curiosity. "How?"

"She's a member of my crew," Sinbad sighed, tiring of this little game. He noticed her expression change to surprise and he pressed on before she could question that statement. "I know Dermott also, her brother. He's also a part of my crew. He was turned into a hawk by Rumina and -" he stopped suddenly, pausing to peer up into the sky. "As a matter of fact, he should be around here somewhere, he was supposed to stay close by - "

The sound of a sword being sheathed startled him, and Sinbad looked back down to see the young woman's sword hanging back on her hip. Then she surprised him even further by scooping his saber up from the ground with one foot and handing it back over to him. The look on his face must have said it all. She smiled wryly.

"You're right, Sinbad," she said. "I am Threnody, and now I know that you're telling the truth." She took a few steps away from him and reached down into some bushes, pulling out a satchel that she must have hidden there (which he had never even noticed). "Sorry about your head, by the way."

Sinbad frowned slightly, feeling a little confused and wondering if he had missed something. His head ached most annoyingly. "Just like that?" he finally managed, sheathing his sword. "You believe me?"

She glanced back at him, nodding as she slung the bag over her shoulder. "Just like that." Then she paused, raising an eyebrow. "But it would have been easier if you'd just said so in the first place, you know."

"I know," Sinbad laughed again, shaking his head. He had a million questions to ask her, but he felt a little too dazed to try. He gave her a weary smile and rubbed the back of his head. "You'd think I'd have learned by now."

Threnody frowned a little, puzzled by that response, and then shook her head. "Come on," she said. "We need to get going. You can explain everything to me on the way down."

And with that, she turned and headed back down the path, not even waiting for him to follow. And as Sinbad did so, he was certain that he was going to find his way down the mountain a lot quicker than he had made his way up.

Sinbad and Threnody reached the base of the hill in barely an hour. Maeve's sister kept a brisk pace, and he could see how she'd managed to stay ahead of him so easily in the beginning, for she knew the forest very well. On the way down he had told her all he knew about Maeve's illness, about the storm and the magic. She had listened intently, and her eyes had grown dark when he told her of the death spell.

"She said you're the only one that can save her," Sinbad finished, as they finally made their way out of the trees. Threnody did not reply to that, and Sinbad glanced over and saw by the expression on her face that she was deep in thought. He had spent much of the last hour mentally comparing her to Maeve, and he had found that although their features were quite different, Threnody wore many of the same expressions as her sister. Pausing a moment longer, he decided to ask her a question that had been nagging at him from the beginning. "So you're a sorceress also, right?"

Threnody glanced at him quickly and brushed a strand of long red hair from her eyes. "No," she replied, as if startled by the question. "Not at all. I'm a healer, not a sorcerer."

Sinbad frowned. "But . . . how can you break the spell then?"

Threnody sighed deeply as they approached the village. "I'm Maeve's sister," she said. "Hopefully that'll be enough."

Just then a scream pierced the air above, and they both looked up to see Dermott swooping down near them. Sinbad heard Threnody gasp, and they watched as the hawk came to perch on a nearby branch, chattering excitedly.

"Dermott?" Threnody stepped over to him and reached out to stroke through his feathers. "Is it really you? It's been so long . . . "

"Little brother!"

Sinbad turned in surprise to see Doubar, Rongar, and most of the others approaching from the village. Evidently they had exhausted their own search and had been on the verge of heading out after him. Sinbad grinned at the hopeful expressions on his friends' faces as they caught sight of the redheaded young woman at his side.

"Is this who I think it is?" Doubar asked. Threnody had turned back from Dermott and was watching them all approach in slight surprise.

"Aye," Sinbad smiled and turned back to her. "Doubar, Rongar -" he held out a hand. "Meet Maeve's sister Threnody."

"Actually, everyone just calls me Ren," she added quickly, smiling as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Doubar opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "And as happy as I am to meet all of you, I really think we need to be getting back to your ship."

"Well yes, of course," Doubar and Sinbad exchanged glances, and Doubar held out a hand. "Ladies first."

Ren smiled and headed off in the general direction of the dock, Dermott screeching and taking flight right after her. And as Sinbad and his men trailed behind yet another mysterious redheaded young woman, Doubar came up alongside his little brother. He nodded towards the girl as they walked.

"Are you sure this is Maeve's sister?" he asked, under his breath. Sinbad grinned ruefully and rubbed the back of his head. "Positive," he replied.

***** Secrets and Lies

Part Three

They reached the Nomad within another half-hour, and Ren grew almost somber as they approached. She climbed aboard ship without difficulty, ignoring the curious stares of the crew, and waited anxiously for Sinbad to lead her below. And once he had done so, Threnody had taken one look at her unconscious sister and ordered everyone out of the room. Sinbad and Firouz had both protested this (Firouz because he had wanted to help and Sinbad because he simply didn't want to leave). Only Dermott remained inside, partially because Ren had forgotten about his presence in her haste but mostly because he had flat-out refused to leave.

That had been nearly three hours ago, and Sinbad, Doubar, Rongar, and Firouz were all milling in and out of the main cabin anxiously, casting nervous glances at Maeve's door. It was well past lunchtime, but none of them had found the appetite to eat. No sight or sound had emerged from Maeve's cabin, and they were all growing more and more nervous with each passing moment.

Finally, out of sheer desperation, Sinbad got to his feet and headed topside, hoping to clear his mind. Sitting down there with nothing to do but wait had become unbearable, and he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep himself from going back in Maeve's cabin anyway, without Ren's consent. Every time he looked at that door he had seen Maeve's face as it had been when they'd first returned from Visenya, and his heart wrenched desperately.

She had been unconscious, as always, but her skin had turned a sickly pale color, coated with a sheen of perspiration even though she was lying perfectly still. Her breathing had been shallow and labored, her pulse faint and weak, and it was immediately obvious that she was on the verge of death. Sinbad had reached out briefly and touched her face, her hands, trying to imbue her with some of his own strength. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her, not when they had already been through so much together, and especially when he realized that she would die without ever knowing of his true feelings.

But, remembering Maeve's words, Sinbad had managed to restrain himself. I can only be healed by someone who shares my blood, she had said, and now she was with, perhaps, the only two people in the world who actually did.

Sinbad took a deep breath and looked up into the pale blue depths of the sky, feeling the gentle wind on his face and glad for its coolness. The atmosphere below deck was very solemn and almost oppressive, and he welcomed this respite.

The Nomad was still anchored in Visenya's harbor, for Sinbad had no intentions of sailing anywhere until Maeve's situation was resolved one way or another, and he had figured that no matter what happened, Threnody would still want to return home.

He stood for a time at the rail, gazing out over the ocean and remembering the last time he had done so, with Maeve at his side. And he realized that without her, nothing looked the same. There was no beauty in the sky or the waves if she wasn't there to see it with him. But would she ever do so again? Would she ever rise from that bed alive? Could Threnody really save her?

These questions had been circling in Sinbad's mind for the last two hours and he could do nothing to quiet them. Threnody had said that she was no sorceress, and Sinbad knew somehow that she was telling the truth. So how could she break a death spell? It didn't make any sense to him, and he wished that he had had more time to talk to her. He realized that he knew next to nothing about her, and yet he was entrusting her with Maeve's very life based simply on the fact that she was her sister. Ren was supposed to be a healer, and yet she couldn't be much more than twenty years old; how much healing experience could she possibly have? She could certainly defend herself, but that was an entirely different issue. What if Maeve had been wrong? What if Ren couldn't heal her? What if she was dying right now and -

Sinbad cut off his own thoughts and closed his eyes, forcing those images away. He had to trust Maeve, and he had to trust her judgment. Dermott was in there too, after all, and Sinbad knew that he had been training to be a wizard before Rumina had bespelled him. He knew about magic, and he had never voiced any doubts whatsoever about Ren's ability to save their sister.

But it had already been two hours. What could they possibly be doing in there? Firouz had already run through a litany of possible treatments as they had sat around the table earlier, trying to envision any and every possible cause of Maeve's sickness until Doubar had forced him into silence with a threatening glare. He had also speculated endlessly about Ren's knowledge and experience, which had only succeeded in heightening Sinbad's anxiety. It was rather unusual, he had said, to run across a female healer (especially one so young) and he couldn't help but wonder.

Sinbad took another deep breath and tried to forget about Firouz's words. He glanced down at the deck towards Maeve's cabin, wishing he could see inside of it. If he could only see with his own eyes that she was all right, that she was still breathing . . .

"Little brother?"

Sinbad turned slightly to see Doubar approaching from the side. The big man clapped a hand on his arm, reading Sinbad's expression. He had seen the look of torment on his brother's face, and he understood well what it meant. "Maeve will pull through this, Sinbad," he said softly, squeezing his shoulder. "She's a strong one. And she's far too stubborn to let a thing like this take her down."

Sinbad smiled a little despite himself, knowing that Doubar was right. But after a moment his expression sobered as he again recalled Maeve's face. "Right now I'm hoping that Ren is strong, Doubar," he replied. "Because I don't think Maeve can pull through this without her."

Doubar's own smile vanished, and he nodded. "Aye, little brother," he said softly. "So do I. But if she's anything like her sister -"

Sinbad suddenly held up a hand, cutting off his brother's words, and Doubar frowned at the strange expression on Sinbad's face. "What is it?"

Sinbad seemed to be listening for something, and abruptly he looked up at the sails. Doubar did the same, and then gasped. "The sails . . . " he said in amazement. "They're -"

"Empty." Sinbad's frown increased as he walked around the deck. Every sail was now flat and hanging with no movement whatsoever. "The wind is gone," he remarked, waving a hand. "Totally, completely gone . . . "

Doubar gave a frown of his own, and then looked to his brother with a start. "Sinbad, the last time this happened was when Maeve -"

Then the ship jarred suddenly, violently, and Doubar's words were again cut off. Several sailors were thrown to the deck, and Sinbad barely managed to catch himself before getting tossed right overboard. It was as if the Nomad had struck something, or been struck by something, which was really the only alternative considering that they were currently anchored and not moving.

"What in the name of Allah was that?" Doubar shouted, catching his balance and hurrying over to the side. "It felt like we hit something!"

Sinbad joined him along with some other sailors, peering over the side, and very shortly they discovered that nothing at all had struck the Nomad. In fact, there was not a thing in the water around them for many leagues and the ship was in perfect condition.

Doubar shook his head in complete bafflement and looked over at Sinbad. "How can that be?" he asked. "A ship doesn't move like that on it's own!"

But Sinbad had only half heard him. He was staring down at the water, then back up at the sails, and slowly he became aware of a very odd sensation. The wind was still gone, yes, but there was a strange intensity in the air, like there had been right after the storm. Something was around them, rising from the deck, and it made Sinbad's skin crawl. It felt dirty to him, almost. Sick and dark and twisted, like an invisible, clotted dark cloud. And as it slowly arose, first around his body and then up past them all into the sky, Sinbad could feel it dissipating. Then abruptly the wind returned, filling up the sails again, and the intensity vanished entirely with the first gust of cool air, as if it had never even existed.

And Sinbad realized immediately what had happened.

"Sinbad!" Firouz's breathless voice broke into his thoughts. He was halfway up the steps that led to the deck and waving at Sinbad urgently from the open doorway. "Come quick! They're finished!"

Sinbad and Doubar both raced to the doorway, and Sinbad felt his heart pounding as he hurried towards Maeve's cabin. The door was open, and Firouz and Rongar were both already inside. Several torches and candles had been lit, bathing the cabin in a warm and comforting glow, and Dermott sat perched on the back of the chair at Maeve's desk, chattering with a relief that even Sinbad could feel. Ren sat at Maeve's bedside, and as he entered she looked up at him. Her young face was heavy with fatigue and weariness, but her smile was triumphant.

For there, in the bed next to her, sat Maeve. Alive and awake, and smiling tiredly at him.

"Maeve!" Sinbad didn't even try to conceal his relief as he hurried to her side, and Ren wisely chose that moment to vacate her chair and give Sinbad some room. He sat down in her place and gathered Maeve carefully in his arms, holding her as he had wanted to do from the very beginning. She laughed (or coughed a little, he really couldn't tell) and hugged him back. He could feel her breathing, and her heartbeat, and as he held her he could also sense what Maeve had once called her "life force". And he could feel it growing strong again.

The spell had been lifted.

"You're alive," he whispered into her hair. He took a deep breath and drew back just far enough to study her face and her beautiful, beautiful eyes. He could see great weariness there (which was to be expected), but her color had returned and her skin was a normal temperature once again. The sickness was gone. Sinbad could feel it.

Maeve smiled at him, at the expression on his face, and nodded weakly. "Aye," she murmured, her voice hoarse and dry from all her coughing. "That I am, captain. I can't be gotten rid of that easily."

Sinbad felt himself grinning and instinctively he leaned forward and kissed her, not caring right then who was in the room. Behind them Doubar, Firouz and Rongar exchanged delighted glances, and Ren's jaw dropped in total astonishment. Then Dermott chattered, and she choked back a laugh.

Finally Sinbad drew away, feeling Maeve begin to tremble, realizing that she was still very weak. Feeling suddenly guilty for his actions, he helped her to lie back down again. He could feel her exhaustion, and it was overwhelming.

Just then he became newly aware of the five pairs of eyes behind him, all smiling (in one way or another), and realized abruptly what he had just done. Suddenly uncomfortable, Sinbad didn't quite know what to say.

Fortunately, however, Ren solved that problem for him.

"All right," she said, moving forward again. There was an authority to her voice that belied her youth (and the smile that was still on her face). "Maeve needs to get her rest. You guys can say your congratulations, but then you have to leave. My sister is going to be sleeping for a long time."

Maeve frowned a little at Ren's words, but she did not protest. Doubar and the others moved forward one at a time and each gave Maeve a hug and a kiss on the cheek, truly relieved at her recovery, and then quickly left the room. Firouz could barely restrain his own curiosity, however, and Maeve was not overly surprised when he checked both her temperature and her pulse, leaving only when Ren swore to explain what had happened. Sinbad was the last to leave, albeit very reluctantly, and Ren chose that moment to leave Maeve's cabin to fetch some fresh water. Taking advantage of the situation, Sinbad leaned forward and kissed Maeve yet again, this time more gently. Then he smiled and tenderly brushed back her hair.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me," he whispered, feeling as though he could lose himself in her beautiful dark eyes. He felt more relieved than he had ever imagined it possible to feel.

Maeve laughed again, lowly. "I wouldn't dare," she replied, in a familiar, teasing tone that gladdened his heart. "After all, what would you do without me?"

It was Sinbad's turn to laugh and he kissed her again, his lips lingering against hers. He allowed himself a moment to feel her breath against his own, the warmth of her body, the living thrum of her heartbeat. The pulse of her life.

Sinbad took a long, deep breath. "I don't know what I would do," he admitted, softly. Then he looked back down and realized that Maeve had fallen back to sleep.

*****

That night at supper the atmosphere around the dinner table was joyous. Maeve was still in her cabin, fast asleep (as Ren had predicted), but everyone knew that she had been saved, that she was not going to die, and that was more than enough for all of them. And now that everyone was so much calmer, Firouz took that moment to ply Threnody with questions.

Maeve's sister had joined them for dinner after having taken a short nap herself in an extra bunk. Whatever she had done to save her sister had quite obviously taken its toll on Ren as well, but she looked much the better for her short rest and had insisted on joining them for supper anyway. She had wound her long red hair into a loose knot at the back of her head and had left her sword, belt and sheath back in Maeve's cabin. Sitting there at the table, bathed in the swaying, shadowy orange light of the lamps and candles and still looking a bit peaked, Ren looked very lovely, just like her sister.

"So you're Maeve's younger sister, obviously," Firouz began, stating the obvious just to start a conversation. His curiosity about her was vast, but he had learned to curb his questions where Maeve was concerned and so he had decided to step lightly around Ren for a while, at least until he could best deduce how she would respond to his sometimes overzealous interest.

Ren took a bite of bread and nodded. "That's right," she replied, a little puzzled by his comment. "And only. By about six years." She paused for a moment, watching their faces, and then smiled wryly. "I'm twenty."

"Ah," Firouz nodded. "I thought as much." He took a bite of his own food and swallowed before continuing. "Tell me, you're a healer, aren't you? Where did you get your training at such a young age?" Then quickly he added, "If you don't mind my asking, of course."

She sighed and seemed to hesitate, turning her attention back down to her plate. After a moment she shrugged slightly. "Let's just say it runs in my family."

"That's right," commented a voice from the other end of the table. "Your mother was a healer."

Everyone looked up at Sinbad in surprise. None of them had heard this story, and they had no idea that Sinbad knew it.

Threnody blinked in surprise of her own. "Yes," she affirmed. "The best in our clan." She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, and Sinbad wondered what she thought about him. He had not tried to touch her mind, for he was still far too inexperienced for such things, and he had no desire to make an idiot of himself. And he had to wonder if she knew which secrets Maeve was keeping.

After a few seconds Ren looked away again, and Sinbad breathed a silent sigh of relief, for what reason he didn't quite know. But like Maeve, Ren sometimes got a look in her eye that seemed to see beyond what she was looking at, and it was still a little disconcerting.

Firouz glanced at Sinbad in surprise and then back over to Ren. "I didn't know that," he admitted. He looked at Doubar and shrugged. "Maeve's never spoken of her family before."

Doubar looked over at his brother pointedly. "At least to any of us."

Ren smiled a little. "Well, my sister has never been much for sharing, I suppose," she admitted. "But -" She scooped a forkful of fish into her mouth and swallowed before continuing. "- we all have our reasons, right?"

"That we do," Sinbad agreed, trying to keep from watching her too closely. It was amazing, really, how alike she and Maeve really were. For now that he had more of a chance to notice, Sinbad could easily see the similarities and differences between the two young women.

Physically, at least, Threnody and Maeve were certainly not identical. While Maeve had dark, almost golden brown eyes, Ren's were a startlingly deep green color; so deep, in fact, that they could easily be mistaken for brown until one was close enough to notice otherwise. And although Threnody was undeniably attractive, her features were quite different from Maeve's, and her long fiery hair (the only really obvious physical link between herself and her sister) presented a striking compliment to her eyes. Seen together, it would not be immediately apparent to a stranger that the two women were sisters, only that they were two very lovely young women. But Sinbad had learned quickly that the relation between Threnody and Maeve was obvious in other ways.

Ren had that same self-assurance about herself, a definite strength and a confidence that was rare in most women. She was very fit, and could probably fight just as well as her sister. She had a sharp tongue and a quick wit, and, like Maeve, she was obviously not one to be easily intimidated. And just during the course of their dinner, Sinbad had noticed that Ren even did little things the same as her sister. She held her fork the same way, she did her hair the same, she even managed to shrug off uncomfortable questions with that same easy flippancy. However, Ren didn't seem to mind the questions as Maeve usually did, and so Sinbad forced himself to pay attention to the conversation as Firouz continued on.

"Tell me, what exactly did you do to save Maeve?" he went on, finally giving in to his real curiosity and leaning forward in his eagerness. "Because I tried everything within my power and nothing seemed to work."

Ren pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging. "It's kind of complicated," she said. "It's not really important. What matters right now is that my sister is alive."

"Well yes, of course, but -" Firouz paused, trying to come up with better wording for his next sentence. "It's just that, as a physician myself, I am very interested in the treatments and therapies of other healers, and if you could explain to me what you did, perhaps I could employ it myself sometime."

Ren smiled at the scientist as she shook her head bemusedly. "I admire your desire to learn, Firouz, but I don't know if it would be quite that easy."

"Well there's no harm in explanation, right?" Firouz asked, warming to his subject and sensing that perhaps she might actually cave in. "Nothing more than a discussion between two colleagues. A sharing of ideas, really."

Ren looked over at Sinbad. "Is he always like this?"

Sinbad laughed. "Always."

She turned back to Firouz and studied him with exaggerated hesitancy. Finally, she shrugged. "All right, I'll explain it," she relented. "But not tonight." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "How about tomorrow?"

"Wonderful!" Firouz clapped his hands together. "That would be perfect. And it'll give me some time to gather some of my own things to show you -"

"Firouz," Doubar put a hand on the man's arm to halt his words. "Give the girl some time to rest. She's been through enough already."

"Oh, yes, of course." Firouz agreed quickly, looking back at her rather guiltily. "Forgive me, my dear. I suppose I do get a bit excited sometimes. It's just not often that I get to confer with another healer."

"That's all right," Ren allowed easily. "Neither do I."

Firouz smiled again, delighted by Threnody's apparently easygoing nature, and decided that talking to her would surely result in a wealth of information.

"So," Doubar began, nodding towards Maeve's cabin and eager to steer the conversation away from Firouz's usual tirade. "How long will she be out?"

"The rest of the day, at least," Ren replied. "Probably the rest of the next three or four days, I would wager. She's not only recovering from the death spell but also from the spell she cast to break that storm, and it's going to take her a little while to regain herself."

"But she will be all right?"

Ren looked over at Sinbad and smiled. "Aye, captain," she answered, a knowing glint in her eye. "My sister will be just fine."

"Good." Sinbad turned his attention back to his plate, trying to appear less relieved than he actually was, although for the life of him he couldn't quite figure out why anymore. So he changed the subject. "We all thank you for saving her life, Ren," he said, truthfully. "Without you I don't think Maeve would have survived."

"You don't have to thank me, Sinbad," Her smile softened. "Maeve is my sister, we would do anything for each other. Saving her life is a given. I'm the one who should be thanking you for bringing me here." Her eyes twinkled. "Especially after all the trouble I gave you."

Sinbad shook his head. "That's not necessary. Maeve is a part of my crew, I would do anything to help her."

Ren smiled again, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I figured."

Doubar and Firouz both laughed, and Sinbad paused just long enough to glare at his friends before continuing on. He wasn't overly thrilled to discover that Ren apparently shared their sense of humor. "And I want you to know that you'll be welcome on the Nomad as long as you wish to stay," he continued, eager to change the subject. "We can stay anchored until Maeve is well again, if you'd like."

"There's no need," Ren shrugged easily. "I've finished my business here."

"Your business?" Firouz echoed. "We were under the impression that you lived here."

"No." Ren frowned a little, surprised. "I don't live on Visenya, I live on Tryntyn, about seven days sail from here." She glanced quickly at the ship around her and amended, "At least, seven days on the boat I came in on . . . "

Sinbad and Doubar exchanged glances. "Then how did Maeve know you would be on Visenya?"

"Just lucky, I guess." Ren shrugged again. "She knows that I travel here once or twice a month. They don't have a healer of their own, so I come here and do what I can. In return they allow me to gather the healing herbs from their forest, which I use in a lot of my remedies." She nodded towards Sinbad. "That's what I was doing when you found me, actually. I had just finished."

"Oh." Sinbad shook his head, realizing how lucky they had been. This whole trip had been one long run of incredible coincidences. "Well, since Maeve should be sleeping for the next few days and I'm sure you don't want to leave until she's up and around, why don't we set sail for Tryntyn? I can promise you a faster trip home, and along the way you can be with your sister."

Ren smiled, and something about her expression reminded him of Maeve. "Well . . . thank you." She seemed truly surprised by his offer. "I think I'll take you up on that, Captain. As long as it doesn't draw you away from your original course, I mean."

He shook his head. "Not at all. We were heading in that general direction anyway." Then he smiled at her. "And besides, after what you did for Maeve, no detour would be too far."

Ren laughed, delighted, and nodded her head to him. "Well in that case I thank you again, Sinbad. It'll be good to get home a little early for a change." She took another bite of food and smiled to herself rather wistfully. "And Severa will be very happy to see me."

Sinbad frowned a little as he turned back to his own plate. "Severa?"

"Yes." Ren glanced up in surprise, as if she had expected Sinbad to know whom she was speaking of. She looked at the blank faces around the table in puzzlement. "Severa. My daughter."

Several jaws dropped at once, and Ren almost started laughing at the expression on Sinbad's face. In fact, they were all staring at her in absolute shock. "Didn't you know?" she questioned. "Maeve never told you -?"

"No, she didn't." Sinbad finally managed. How many secrets did Maeve possess?

Ren stared at their shocked faces a few moments longer and then leaned back in her chair. She obviously hadn't expected this. "Well," she chuckled wearily. "I guess this is a surprise to you, then, isn't it?"

"Quite," Firouz replied. "We had no idea . . . I mean, you're so young, and Maeve never said ...that is, you don't look like ..."

"Like somebody's mother?" Ren shook her head before Firouz could offer up some sort of apology and smiled again. "It's all right, I understand your reaction. It is a little surprising, I guess." She sighed and leaned back up against the table, brushing her hair back again. "Maybe I should just explain this all right now and get it over with . . . "

They all nodded, and Sinbad leaned forward in his seat, realizing that he was about to hear yet another very interesting story.

Part Four ~ Conclusion

Several days later, Threnody sat in a chair at her sister's bedside. She yawned a little and brushed back her hair, wondering distantly how much sleep she had lost over the last few days. Maeve was recovering well, and had, in fact, regained consciousness two days out from Visenya. She was now sleeping normally, restfully, recovering her strength, but Ren felt that she needed to stay aware and nearby anyway, just in case.

It was morning, and Ren could hear the voices of sailors calling from above decks, and the snapping of the sails. Sinbad had come down earlier (as he did every hour, it seemed) and had told her that the wind was excellent, and that they might reach Tryntyn that very day. Ren was glad to hear it; she was anxious to get home and see her daughter, for one thing, and for another, she was very anxious to get off of this ship. The seas had been rather rough the last few days, and although Ren wasn't prone to seasickness, she couldn't wait to get on solid ground again. Despite all the travelling she did by sea, there was something about all that swaying and tilting that always made her grateful to reach shore again. Maeve, on the other hand, seemed to have acclimated herself perfectly.

At that thought Threnody looked down at her sleeping sister and smiled a little. She could still hardly believe that Maeve was a crewmember on a ship. Especially Sinbad's ship. Like everyone, she had heard the tales about the famous captain and his crew, and even about the mysterious sorceress who traveled with him. But never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that that woman was her sister. True, she and Maeve and Dermott had lost touch for a while, but this was about the last place she had expected to find them!

And yet . . . another part of her wasn't surprised at all. Ren knew her sister better than anyone, and she knew that Maeve would go to extreme lengths for her family and friends. After Dim-Dim's disappearance, Maeve had realized that sailing with Sinbad and his crew would offer her the best chance at freeing he and Dermott. So, she had done something that not many other people would have done: she had stayed on the Nomad, as the only woman aboard, and continued her quest with complete strangers.

Or, at least, it had started that way.

Ren had only known Sinbad and the others for about five days, but already she could see that they had grown to care about her sister deeply, especially Sinbad. And she could see, just from Maeve's awakening (when everyone had come rushing in to see her), that her sister returned the emotion fully. They were like family, and Ren was rather surprised to discover that she didn't feel threatened by that at all. Somehow she sensed that her sister was in a good place, with good people, and that it was a place where she belonged.

Maeve stirred suddenly, and Ren reached forward to touch her sister's forehead, startled out of her reverie. She was relieved that Maeve's temperature was still normal, as it had been for the last few days. She didn't really expect a relapse; she had expelled the curse correctly and she knew that it was gone, but Ren was no sorceress and she was much less certain about her magical abilities than her healing ones.

And they still had no idea who had cast the death spell over Maeve, or why. Sinbad had an extra watch posted, just in case, but there had been no sign of any more trouble. The possibility of Rumina kept coming up, but Ren thought that unlikely, considering what Maeve had said earlier and what she knew of the woman herself. They all had their enemies, that was for certain, and it was obvious that whomever had cast the spell over Maeve had not known that she had any living relations. Perhaps that person had thought that the spell had indeed succeeded, and hadn't bothered to check back. Ren found that scenario rather unlikely as well, but for the moment, at least, there were no other answers.

After a minute longer Maeve settled back to sleep, having never really awoken, and Ren heaved a sigh of relief, leaning back in her chair. Then she sat perfectly still, waiting for the now familiar sound of footsteps approaching.

Ever since Maeve had first stirred from her unconsciousness, Ren had become rapidly aware of her sister's connection to the captain. Their connection to each other. For it seemed that every time Maeve awoke, Sinbad would be right there, within minutes. It was as if he could sense her. And Ren had been very puzzled by that, since she had never heard of Sinbad possessing any sort of magical powers whatsoever. But then Dermott had explained to her about Sky Island, and most of her questions had been answered. Including how it was that her brother and the sailor could communicate. Before this only she, Maeve and Dim-Dim had been able to "hear" Dermott, and the fact that Sinbad could now so obviously do so had startled her a little.

Ren had been very cautious about what she had said over the course of these last few days. She knew that Maeve generally kept Dermott's true identity a secret, and she wasn't entirely sure just how much Sinbad and the others knew. But she was glad that at least someone else knew the truth now. Sometimes Ren feared that Maeve kept too much to herself, so she was glad to learn that Sinbad at least, could truly be there for her. And she had a sneaking suspicion that Maeve was rather glad for it, also.

In fact, Sinbad had already been down to see Maeve twice this morning; once before, to tell Ren of their proximity to her home and then the first time, earlier, when Ren had first come into Maeve's cabin after awakening from her own sleep and found Sinbad already there, talking to Maeve about something that Ren had been unable to overhear. As soon as she had entered they had fallen silent, and Sinbad, who had been sitting at Maeve's bedside, had drawn back slightly. And Threnody was becoming even more rapidly accustomed to this.

Between Maeve's awakening and her various trips above and below decks, Ren had found the time to speak with Doubar and Firouz. And both men had been more than willing to fill her in on Maeve and Sinbad's history together, as it were. They had also told her of Dim-Dim's disappearance, Turoc's death, and Rumina's constant attacks upon them. In fact, they had told her about nearly all of their various adventures in the past year.

Threnody had laughed a little when she had heard about Rumina's infatuation with Sinbad. If her sister had hated the witch before, she had double the reason to do so now.

After a few moments passed and it became obvious that (for whatever reason) Sinbad was not coming down, Ren stood and went over to her satchel, hunting through it for a particular small vial. She had already healed the burns on Maeve's hands, but she could see that they were still sore and there was a particular salve she could use to help ease the pain. Of course, Maeve would never have agreed to such a thing, but since she was asleep at the moment Ren decided that it really didn't matter. After all, she was a healer, and her sister had never been much of a pleasant patient.

As she dug through her pack her fingers suddenly ran across something strange. Frowning to herself, Ren pulled the thing out - and then laughed.

She was holding a small doll made out of torn cloth and thick, twisted straw. Wound about the thing's twiggy neck was a child's braided necklace. One that Ren herself had woven not more than three months ago.

Smiling, Threnody shook her head. This was one of Severa's favorite toys, and her very favorite necklace. Severa was only four, but Ren couldn't help but wonder if she had left the doll there on purpose. Sometimes Severa seemed to understand more than she was supposed to, and she had been very upset that Ren had elected to leave her behind on this trip. Of course, she might also have stashed the thing there when she was going through that recent (and troublesome) hiding phase. Ren was still unable to find her hairbrush, one pair of good shoes, and the leather band she sometimes used to bind Severa's hair back with (which Severa hated).

Somehow she suspected that hair band would never be found.

Ren was still smiling as she set the doll aside and continued digging. But her thoughts were now on her daughter and, more importantly, on the meeting ahead. She could still see the faces of Sinbad and Maeve's other friends as she had told them her tale that first night. They had been shocked to learn that she had a child, and even more shocked when she had explained that she was unmarried. And she knew exactly what that had made them think, what that made everyone think. And over time she had learned that telling the truth was just easier than trying to keep her painful past hidden.

So, Ren had told them the truth. She had told them how, when she was just six years old, the village they had been living in fell under attack. And how, while the villagers had fought to hold off the raiders, other marauders had come in and kidnapped the children. For the entire attack had simply been a ploy to gather children to sell into slavery, an easy way to make some fast money. And Ren had been one of those taken. Not until after the slave ship sailed did Maeve and Dermott realize what had happened. And although they searched for her constantly, there was no way to tell where the ship had sailed to or where the children had been sold. They searched for many years and eventually ended up on the isle of Blythe, hoping that perhaps the magicians there could help them in their quest. But Ren's location remained hidden, and all anyone could ever determine was that she was still alive.

In fact, Threnody had been taken and sold into slavery in the mountain kingdom of Faressa, about as far from Eire as those ships could sail. And there she had stayed for ten years of her life, until she was sixteen. During this time she had aided the palace healer, a stodgy old man named Thutmos who had recognized her talent at an early age and insisted that she assist him. However, Thutmos wasn't the only palace official to take notice of Threnody. The Minister of State, a tall, extremely handsome man named Tyrin, also began to pay her attention. For as she had grown Ren had become, like her sister, undeniably beautiful, even at sixteen. And there was a certain mysteriousness, a certain spark about her, that intrigued him. And he had also recognized her underlying fear, her loneliness, and took advantage of that. Before long Ren found herself assigned as Tyrin's personal slave, and, as she had told Sinbad and the others plainly and bluntly, there are certain things they make slaves do.

And, for some reason, Ren had not resisted him. She had been so relieved and overjoyed to find someone that supposedly cared for her, someone who treated her like a human being instead of a slave, that she had denied him nothing (despite her initial fear). Tyrin had told her that he loved her and would release her from slavery, after which they would be together forever. And in her innocence and naivete, Ren had believed him. But as time dragged on and nothing happened, she began to suspect his words. And then, one day, she had gone into his quarters and found him with another woman. In the end she learned that he said such words to every female slave, because it made it so much easier for him to have his way with them. Infuriated and ashamed, Ren had fled down into the slave quarters. And there, in her utter disgrace and rage, she had collapsed.

When she awoke again it was to find herself under the ministrations of old Thutmos, who had always cared for the young Celtic woman, even after Tyrin had demanded her complete attention and ended her days of aiding him. At Ren's collapse he had been summoned down in secret by one of the other slaves, and it was then she learned that she was carrying a child.

Horrified, knowing the child was Tyrin's, Ren began to panic. Slaves have no rights to their children, and she knew that once her pregnancy became known the masters would either end it immediately, or wait, and take the child from her as soon as it was born. And for some reason, perhaps because she was so alone, Ren desperately wanted that baby. The thought of her own child being forced to live the kind of life that she herself had already suffered through was unspeakable.

It was then that Thutmos came to Ren's aid once more. Risking his own life, he managed to smuggle her out of the palace and into freedom, giving her some money and sending her to the isle of Tryntyn, where he had a friend who would help her. Ren did as she was told and found the island, where she met Meg, an old friend of Thutmos's and another healer. With Meg's help, Ren began regaining her life and gave birth to Severa almost eight months later. And two years after Severa was born, Maeve and Dermott finally found them again.

By this time Dermott had already fallen under Rumina's spell and Maeve had met Dim-Dim. It was with his help, in fact, that they were able to find Threnody again in the first place. They were about as shocked to see Severa as Ren was to see Dermott. But they were also overjoyed, because their family was together once more.

Ren smiled as she remembered the expression on Maeve's face when she had first laid eyes on Severa, as a baby. She wondered what her big sister would think when she saw Severa again, now, at four instead of two. It had been almost two years since Maeve and Dermott had seen either of them, for although Maeve tried to visit as often as possible, she had become so busy with Dim-Dim and her magic that her visits became few and far between. And then Dim-Dim had disappeared and Maeve had ended up on the Nomad.

And of course, Ren had known none of this until now. She had known only that her brother and sister were alive and well, and that they continued to search for Rumina. Threnody had always felt guilty that she couldn't search with them; after all, Dermott was just as much her brother as Maeve's, and her hatred for Rumina was equal (even though she had never even seen the witch). But Ren could never leave Severa for so long, and she certainly couldn't take her daughter on such a dangerous trip. Besides which, Maeve felt completely responsible for their brother's condition and therefore shouldered the entire burden of freeing him herself. And besides, she didn't want any other member of their already small family getting mixed up in the whole mess. So she had been more than glad to leave Ren and Severa in safety, far away from Rumina and her evil ways.

Threnody finally found the vial she was looking for and went over to Maeve's small desk to prepare it, her thoughts turning to another subject. She wondered what Sinbad and the others would think of Severa. She was something of a handful these days.

Maeve's friends had been very understanding when they had learned the truth of her predicament, and Ren had been pleasantly surprised by that reaction (especially considering that they were men). In fact, they were quite interested in everything she had to say, and Ren had come away with the distinct impression that they were studying her somehow, especially Sinbad. They were apparently so very curious about her sister that to meet someone related to her was something of an enigma.

Ren smiled a little as she mixed the salve, picturing the faces of Maeve's friends in her mind. She barely knew these people, and yet already they felt like friends to her.

She had found Doubar to be endlessly friendly and kind, almost like another older brother. His warmth and good humor were contagious. The scientist, Firouz, was still questioning her about her healing methods, and she was flattered by his obviously high opinion of her skills and intelligence. He had also taken some time to show her some of his inventions, and (although Ren still had a hard time believing those funny sticks of his would actually explode) he was so enthusiastic about his work that she found him to be perfectly charming and sweet. And Rongar, the silent one…Ren found him to be the most fascinating of all. There was a gentle understanding in his eyes that drew her to him, and she sensed a kind of connection to him that could not be denied, although she also did not understand it. It bothered her a little, because such feelings had often led her into trouble.

As a general rule, there were very few men that Threnody felt safe around. But when it came to these men, things were somehow different. She knew instinctively that they could be trusted, not just because Maeve trusted them (which was a rare enough thing in and of itself), but mostly because there was just something about them, especially Sinbad, that bespoke goodness.

Ren's smile widened a little as her thoughts turned last towards the captain of the Nomad. All the stories she had heard about him were true, it seemed. He was brave and strong, and certainly not hard on the eyes. In fact, Ren had been quite startled when she had first spotted him in the forest.

She knew that Sinbad thought she had used some sort of magic to detect his presence there, but in fact, she had done no such thing. She didn't even know how to do such a thing. In actuality (although she would never tell him this), she had been in the process of backtracking her own trail, having missed a particular root she usually gathered this time of year. Halfway down the trail she had nearly run smack into him, and since it was obvious that he was following her, Ren decided to try and lose him. And she easily could have.

But for some reason, at the last moment, she had turned back. Some unnamable thing had made her turn around and wait for him. And now she was incredibly grateful that she had done so. For if she had succeeded in losing Sinbad, there was no doubt in Ren's mind that Maeve would have died. And she could not live with the idea of causing her own sister's death.

Just then (as if on cue) the door opened, and Ren half-turned to see Sinbad coming in again. She returned his initial smile, even as his gaze went immediately to her sister. Yes indeed, she thought to herself again, wryly. The tales are certainly true. . .

"Hello there, Captain," she said, pleasantly, brushing away her thoughts. "I was wondering where you were."

"What?" He frowned a little as he walked over to Maeve's bedside.

Ren smiled wider and shook her head, turning back to her mixing. "Never mind."

"So, how is she?" Sinbad asked softly, taking a seat at Maeve's side.

"Just fine," Ren glanced at him over her shoulder, still smiling. "The same as this morning, actually. And the morning before, I believe . . . "

Sinbad smiled at her words, despite himself. "I guess I am a little over concerned, aren't I?" he admitted.

Ren laughed a little. "There's nothing wrong with that, Sinbad," she replied, carrying the vial back over to Maeve. "It just means that you care about her."

And she made a point of not meeting his gaze after that, knowing how uncomfortable he would be. Which was another thing that delighted her. From what she had heard, Sinbad was hardly inexperienced with the ladies. And yet her sister could completely fluster him, even when she was asleep.

That could only be a good sign.

*****

Later that day, Ren found herself standing at the rail of the Nomad with her sister at her side. Maeve had come up only a few moments ago, for they were about to dock in Tryntyn's harbor and Maeve wanted to be ready to go ashore. This was the first time she had come above deck since the storm, and her friends were still worried about her. She was still weak and a little pale, but Ren had assured them that Maeve was more than strong enough for the trip. And the men seemed to know better than to hover about her, but they stayed nearby anyway, just in case. Even Dermott, perched above on some rigging, peered down at Maeve and cackled worriedly.

Ren found it all endlessly entertaining. She was in great spirits, for her sister was safe and alive and she would soon see her daughter again. Already she was searching the shoreline, knowing that Severa sometimes went there to play with Meg (who she was staying with) and Meg's children. But so far the shore was empty, and she knew that she was not expected home for another three days.

Maeve, standing next to her and bundled in her cloak, sighed. "Do you think I'll be able to get away from any of them today, sister?" she asked wearily, nodding towards the men behind them.

Ren glanced back and smiled, noticing again that Sinbad's startling blue eyes never strayed far from Maeve. He seemed to be making a point of not hovering around her, as if he were afraid of making her angry, but Ren knew how much of a battle that was for him. She turned back to Maeve. "Oh, I don't know." she drawled. "Probably not. But then, why would you want to?" She raised an eyebrow and motioned discreetly back towards Sinbad. "I'd wager that's something rare among most women."

Maeve gave her a sharp look and Ren chuckled, knowing that she was right. Glancing around to make sure no one would overhear, Ren nudged her sister playfully and leaned in closer. "You know Maeve, I always knew you had good taste, but I think this time you've outdone yourself."

Maeve glared at her again and Ren continued laughing. Now that the danger was past their relationship had fallen back into its usual mode. Ren had a certain mischievous sense of humor that her sister had come to dread. And she knew things about Maeve that no one else on the world knew, so she made sure to take good advantage of it. "And you know -" She glanced out across the water again, still looking for Severa as she continued, "A little mystery in a relationship can be good, sister, but don't you think you took things a bit far with this one?"

Dermott, perched above them (and the only male aboard ship who was actually aware of their conversation), squawked in agreement. Maeve looked at her sister indignantly. "No, I do not think that," she replied, managing to keep her voice down. "Some things just . . . never came up before now. And besides, who said anything about a relationship?"

Now Ren and Dermott were both laughing, and Maeve glared at them both for good measure, fully aware that Sinbad could probably hear Dermott's laughter. But she found that she couldn't really get angry. She was feeling too happy with herself. After all, she was alive and well, she had been reunited with her little sister, and soon she would get to see her niece again. Their family was finally coming together, and it felt wonderful. And, on another note, she was relieved that this whole thing with her sister had finally come out.

Maeve really didn't know why she hadn't told Sinbad about Threnody in the first place, that fateful afternoon on Sky Island. She had been purposely vague when she had spoken about she and Dermott fleeing their home, and hadn't mentioned that they were not alone when they had done so. And when Sinbad had come to her cabin earlier that morning to speak with her, she knew that she had to explain. All she could say (before Ren had entered) was that perhaps she had just been tired of her life sounding like one tragedy after another. And besides, Ren was safe now. Maeve hadn't seen any reason to rehash the whole situation again, now that it was resolved. And Sinbad, although he had been a little concerned over the fact that she had kept this from him, seemed to understand. After all, she hadn't actually lied to anyone about having a sister. She just . . .hadn't quite mentioned it. Yet.

Threnody was still chuckling, and Maeve had just decided to do something about that (despite her lingering weakness), when a booming laugh erupted from behind them.

Maeve and Ren both turned to see Doubar clapping Sinbad's shoulder. "Head still hurt, little brother?" he asked, laughing. Sinbad grimaced a little, smiling despite himself, and rubbed the back of his head.

And Ren gasped, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"What?" Maeve looked at her in startlement. "What is it?"

Doubar and the others knew all about Sinbad's first encounter with Threnody, and that Sinbad still had something of a painful bruise left over. But Maeve had no idea what had happened, and, with all that had occurred in the last five days, Ren had entirely forgotten about it.

"Oh, jeez …" She walked over to where Sinbad stood at the tiller and smiled at him apologetically. "I forgot all about that, I am so sorry . . . "

"About what?" Maeve followed her over, getting a little more concerned as she took in Sinbad's expression. "What are you talking about?"

Sinbad waved a hand, smiling. "It's all right, Ren. It's just a little sore, nothing to worry about."

"No, I will worry about it," she replied, sternly. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard, Sinbad. That bruise should have gone away by now . . . "

"You hit him?!" Maeve exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to," Ren replied, moving around behind Sinbad. "Well, I mean, I did, but I didn't. At the time I didn't know who he was."

Sinbad noticed Maeve's expression and hastened to speak. "Maeve, it's all right, she was just trying to protect herself -"

Maeve completely ignored him and continued glaring at her sister. "Why did you hit him?" she demanded. Then she saw where Ren's hands were moving to and her eyes widened. "You hit him on the head?"

"Maeve -" Ren paused and gave her a look. "Just give me a minute, all right? Then I'll explain everything."

Sinbad felt her fingers sliding into his hair, probing for the bump, and he winced slightly. He had learned that as long as he didn't touch the thing, it didn't hurt him. And it was just another minor wound to add to his list of many. "Really, Ren," he insisted, "It's no big deal. You don't have to worry about it . . . "

Ren sighed, and her fingers did not move away. "Sinbad, I caused this bump, it's only fair that I get rid of it."

"Get rid of it?" Firouz, along with the others, had been watching his captain being bickered over by two determined redheads (both of whom were totally ignoring his words) and had been enjoying it immensely, but at Ren's comment he perked up. "How do you propose doing that?"

Ren smiled at him and exchanged glances with Maeve. "Just give me a minute." she said again, and Sinbad felt her fingers press against the bruise. He looked at Maeve questioningly, and she folded her arms, still obviously annoyed with her sister. But despite that, she gave him a weary nod. "Just let her, Sinbad. It's what she does."

"All right . . . " He had no idea what Ren was going to do, but at this point it was pretty obvious that he couldn't escape it. "What do I have to do?" he asked her, uncertainly.

"Nothing," Ren answered, sounding rather distracted."Just hold still . . . "

And for a moment there was no sound, only the feeling of Ren's fingers against his skin, her touch gentle and yet sure in the manner of someone who was accustomed to working with those in pain. Firouz, Rongar, and Doubar stood gathered around, watching this spectacle with interest. Only Maeve seemed unconcerned with what her sister was doing, although she did seem rather glad that she was doing it.

After another silent moment had passed, Sinbad opened his mouth to ask what was going on. But before he could speak, a sudden heat flared up on his skin, everywhere that Ren touched him. And then that heat became a burning, and it seemed to sear the wound. The pain was so abrupt and startling that he pulled away from her in shock.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, grabbing the back of his head and turning around to face Maeve's sister. "What did you do?"

She shrugged. "I healed you, Sinbad."

"That's healing?" The burning sensation was still there, but it was rapidly dying down. It was like she had applied a thin line of pure fire to the back of his head. He had never felt anything like it.

"Yes, it is." Ren smiled and walked back over to stand by her sister. They both seemed rather amused. "Healing is painful, Captain. We just don't usually feel it as much because the natural healing process of our body is so much slower. All I did was speed yours up a bit."

"Fascinating . . . " Firouz was examining the back of Sinbad's head, and he saw it was true. The bruise was completely gone, as if it had never been. Sinbad could feel that now, himself, and as he rubbed the back of his head he stared at Ren in amazement.

"But I thought you said you weren't a sorceress?"

"I'm not," Ren shrugged again. "But I do have a few powers, pertaining to healing. I can heal cuts and bruises and sometimes broken bones. I can't bring back the dead or anything, but it's quite useful."

"I bet . . . " Sinbad shook his head wryly.

Then, seemingly unconcerned with what she had just done, Ren smiled at them all sweetly, took her sister's arm, and led her back over to the railing. And the men all stood there for a moment, staring after the two sisters in amazement before coming back to their senses and preparing to go ashore.

*****

Less than a quarter of an hour later they landed on the beach, and Threnody led the way inland. Tryntyn was a lovely place, with tall trees fanning their branches out high above them and lovely green fields of grass and flowers. They were following a well-worn dirt path through a sparse forest into town, and occasionally they would pass a farmer or some other traveler who would recognize Ren and greet her cordially. She seemed to be very popular and well liked by all who passed, and more than one person asked after Severa's welfare. Which seemed to make Ren walk a little faster towards home, obviously eager to see her daughter again.

However, she was careful not to move too fast. She didn't want her sister to overexert herself in her weakened condition, although Maeve kept insisting that she was perfectly fine. The two sisters walked at the head of the group, with Sinbad and the others following a few paces behind, and Ren was chattering on to Maeve about all that had happened in town since she was last there. Above all of them, Dermott soared lazily in the sky. There was a general atmosphere of relaxation and happiness, and no one was immune.

Seeing Maeve walking ahead of him, listening to her sister and rolling her eyes at some comment she had made, Sinbad was filled with joy. Just listening to her complain about all the fuss they were making over her gladdened his heart, because he knew that she was truly well again. The sun was shining down through the branches, and every once in a while one of the young women would pass underneath a shaft of sunlight, and her hair would gleam like fire. Seeing this, Sinbad thought it was only fitting. Ren and Maeve were two of the strongest women he had ever known, and fire was definitely their element.

Then he realized that Doubar had been watching him as well, wearing a huge, knowing grin on his face, and after that Sinbad made a point of looking elsewhere.

Their little group walked on for another ten minutes before reaching the actual town. It was a somewhat small place, quiet and rather tame, set back from the usual sea traffic of the area, but there were still shops and merchant's carts lining the streets, an inn, and even a tavern or two. Doubar smiled widely to see this, and Sinbad knew where a substantial amount of their time on Tryntyn might be spent. In fact, he had just opened his mouth to speak when a high-pitched shriek erupted from their right, cutting off his words.

They all turned in alarm, reaching for their swords, and watched in startlement as a small blur came hurtling out of a nearby produce market and threw itself exuberantly at Threnody's legs.

Ren laughed and stumbled backwards, and that was when they saw that it was not some strange monster who had attacked her, but actually a little girl who was hugging her tightly and grinning.

Severa!" Ren was still laughing as she swung the child up into her arms and spun around in a circle, hugging her. "You scared me!"

Severa shrieked with glee and entwined her arms around her mother's neck. "Mommy, I missed you!" she exulted, giggling. Her hair was long and very straight, and as Ren spun around it flew out behind her, gleaming in the sunshine.

The others stood off for a moment, watching this little reunion with smiles on their faces, and Sinbad glanced over at Maeve, who was now standing next to him. She was wearing an expression of wistful amazement as she took in the sight of her four-year-old niece.

"I missed you too, sweetheart." Ren was saying, grinning as she hugged her daughter to her. "I'm so glad I could come home early. And guess what?" She drew back slightly, so that they were facing each other. "I found your Aunt Maeve. Do you remember her?"

She turned, holding Severa in her arms, so that they were facing Maeve (who was still looking rather stunned). The child eyed her curiously. Sinbad saw that she had an adorable, impish little face with a spattering of freckles across her cheek and wide, startling green eyes, just like Threnody's. Her hair was something of a darker red than Maeve or Threnody's, and much straighter, and there were two or three small, slightly frazzled braids running through it. One arm still circled her mother's neck, and the other held a small doll made out of twisted straw and cloth. Her fingers picked idly at this as she studied Maeve.

"Hello, Severa," Maeve said carefully, deciding to make the first move. She doubted if the girl would remember her, for the last time they had seen each other Severa was barely two, and she had changed so much since then. She smiled and stepped forward cautiously, not wanting to frighten her. "You probably don't remember me, but I -"

Severa cut her off. "Do you have a bird?"

Maeve blinked and looked at Ren in startlement. "Why .. . yes, I do." She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "His name is Dermott. Do you remember him?"

Maeve knew that Ren had never told Severa about her Uncle Dermott; she was simply too young yet to understand. But even as a baby Severa had been drawn to the hawk, constantly trying to touch him. Once, when no one had been watching, Severa had made a grab at Dermott's tail. She had cried when Dermott fluttered away in startlement, but he had left her with a very pretty handful of feathers, just the same.

Severa nodded enthusiastically. "I remember. He was pretty." She looked up into the sky, craning her neck as if to see him. "Is he flying?"

Maeve and Ren exchanged glances again, and Ren, although she looked about as startled as her sister, just shrugged.

"Yes, he is." Maeve finally replied, stepping closer. "He'll come down later so you can see him."

Severa looked back over at Maeve and cocked her head. "I remember you," she said again, plainly. "You had the bird." Then she frowned suddenly, realizing something. "Where did you go?"

Maeve felt a stab of guilt. Although she had known that Ren and Severa were safe, she had always felt guilty about leaving them for so long. And about all that she had missed in their lives. "There were some things I had to do, Severa, and I couldn't come back for a while." She explained carefully. Then she smiled, reaching forward to take the little girl's hand. "But now I'm here again," she said. "And you and I can be friends . . . "

Then Maeve realized that Severa wasn't even listening to her anymore, but instead peering curiously over her shoulder at the men standing behind. Ren noticed this, too, and she chose that moment to set Severa back down. Crouching down at her daughter's side, she smiled at Sinbad and the others as she spoke. "And these are Maeve's friends," she said. "They came along to meet you. This is Sinbad, Doubar, Rongar and Firouz."

Severa eyed them all suspiciously, and Sinbad nearly laughed at the expression on her little face. She was looking at him exactly the way Maeve and Threnody first had.

"Well hello there," he said, smiling. Crouching down in front of her, he held out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Severa."

Severa cocked her head again as she regarded him. Finally she asked, "Do you have a bird?"

They all laughed, and Sinbad smiled at her. "No, I'm afraid I don't." he replied. Then something occurred to him. "But I do have a ship."

"A ship?" Severa's eyes lit up. "You have a boat? Like the one mommy goes to?" Before Sinbad could reply she had turned to Ren excitedly, clutching her toy. "Can I go see the boat, Mommy? Please? Please? Can I go see the boat?"

"Maybe later," Ren laughed. "If it's all right with Sinbad."

Severa turned back to him with a plaintive, pleading look on her little face, and Sinbad laughed. "Of course it's all right," he said, smiling at her. "You can have the grand tour."

Severa shrieked again happily and started jumping up and down. And after that, there were no more problems. Sinbad instantly became Severa's favorite person, and by the time Ren had located her friend Meg and taken Severa back into her own care, the little girl was already leading him around by the hand and chattering on constantly about anything that came to mind. She showed him the fruit Meg had been buying in the produce market, the horses boarded in a stable nearby, and a particular bolt of expensive cloth that her mother always admired in the marketplace. Ren had been a little embarrassed by that, but Severa was so excited that she had moved Sinbad on before either of them could get a word out.

Sinbad was very good humored about it all, and he rather enjoyed the experience. He had always liked children, and following Maeve's niece around gave him more of an idea what Maeve might have been like as a child. Severa was one of the most exuberant, friendly children he had ever known. Besides which, he simply couldn't resist that little face staring up at him imploringly. And Severa knew it.

Finally, after nearly an hour of this, Ren convinced Severa that it was time for some lunch. And since she certainly didn't have enough food to feed four hungry men in her own home, she led them to a local inn, where they were served a fine meal. And Severa spent the entire time chattering on happily, having evidently decided that not only was Sinbad now her friend, but Doubar, Rongar, and Firouz were as well. By the end of the meal she had completely charmed them all, and Maeve and Threnody were well aware of it.

After lunch they headed towards Ren's home, just outside of town, and Severa spent most of that trip on Doubar's shoulders. She was delighted with her new friends and she began singing as they walked along, making up the song as she went. Ren, who was hanging back a bit with Sinbad and Maeve, laughed wryly.

"Well, I'd say it's official, then." she commented.

Sinbad glanced at her. "What's that?"

Ren motioned towards her daughter, perched atop Doubar's shoulders. Severa was trying to teach him the words to her song, and giggling at his purposefully comical attempts. "She only sings like that when she's really happy," Ren explained. "And considering that she just met all of you, I'd say that you four have just become her favorite people." Then she smiled at Sinbad apologetically. "And thank you for being so kind to her, Sinbad. I hope she didn't run you ragged."

He waved away her concerns, although inwardly he had to admit that Severa seemed to have the energy of four men. He was a little relieved that she had chosen to ride on Doubar's shoulders instead of his own. He needed to catch his breath. "It's not a problem, Ren." he said, truthfully. "Severa is a wonderful little girl."

"And she's got you wrapped around her little finger," Maeve commented, nudging him teasingly. Sinbad looked at her in startlement, even as Ren started laughing.

"That's not true," he protested. "She and I just . . .get along really well."

Now Ren and Maeve were both laughing, and Ren shook her head, nodding towards the other men walking in front of them. "Don't worry, Sinbad. I'd say you're hardly the only one. And besides -" She shrugged, brushing back her hair. "Severa's good at that."

Doubar laughed loudly. "Must run in the family!" he commented, over his shoulder

Firouz and Rongar both started laughing, and Maeve rolled her eyes. Sinbad looked suddenly uncomfortable, but rather resigned to the whole situation. And Threnody, for her part, just joined in the laughter and kept walking. She knew that her sister and the sailor hated all the teasing, but Ren could see why their friends did it. Most of the fun was knowing that they were right.

*****

Sinbad and his crew spent the rest of the day with Ren and Severa at their home. In fact, they ended up staying until the following morning, which gave Doubar some time to visit the tavern and Sinbad some time to give Severa that tour of the Nomad he had promised. And she adored every minute of it. For a four-year-old she was surprisingly perceptive (and endlessly curious) and by the time he had finished Sinbad had showed her parts of the Nomad that he had forgotten even existed. She said over and over again how pretty the ship was, and how much she loved the ocean, and by the time the tour was over Sinbad had promised to take her sailing with him sometime. Which, of course, endeared him to her even further. Maeve and Ren had laughed at this, and Maeve had made some comment about Sinbad's never-ending charm when it came to women of any age.

By that afternoon, however, they were reluctantly forced to depart. Although they had started this trip with a fair amount of time to spare, the events of the past week had taken their toll and they were now dangerously close to falling behind schedule. And they still had to return to Baghdad before setting out on their next journey.

So, just before they rowed out to the Nomad, Threnody took Severa to the beach and together they bid goodbye to Maeve and the others. Ren had come to see them all as friends, and she hugged each man in turn, smiling. Sinbad knew that Threnody's past must surely have traumatized her when it came to men, so he was that much more relieved to see that she so obviously trusted he and his crew. However, he did notice that she seemed to hesitate a bit when it came to Rongar, and he was not entirely certain why. He didn't think she feared the Moor (in fact, more than once on the journey here he had noticed her watching Rongar surreptitiously), but it was almost as if she was afraid of getting too close to him. And Rongar seemed equally cautious. Sinbad had no idea what was going on between them, and he intended to ask his friend about it after all this was over.

After Ren had come Severa, and she, too, had hugged them, and given them each a kiss on the cheek. Then she had looked at Sinbad very solemnly and reminded him of his promise to come back and give her a ride on the Nomad. He had acquiesced immediately, for Sinbad had no doubt that Severa would remember his words. And it was an easy promise for him to make. Besides the fact he truly liked Threnody and Severa, he couldn't stand the thought of keeping Maeve and Dermott away from their family for so long. He knew from painful experience just how important family really was.

Reluctantly, Maeve had said goodbye to her little sister and her niece, hugging them tightly and promising to return again soon. Sinbad still had a rather hard time picturing Maeve as somebody's aunt, but there was no doubt that she loved them both deeply, and that she still felt guilty about leaving. Dermott had even fluttered down for a moment and allowed Severa (under Ren's careful supervision) to stroke his feathers. Then they had all climbed into the longboat and rowed away, leaving Ren and Severa to wave at them from the shore. By the time they had reached the Nomad and climbed aboard, the two of them looked like nothing more than little twigs standing on the beach. But there they stayed until the Nomad drifted out of sight, and Maeve stood at the railing, with Dermott at her side, until Tryntyn was nothing more than a hazy line on the horizon.

*****

The next day dawned bright and sunny, and Sinbad found himself topside again, with Maeve at the railing, just as they had been before she had taken ill. Dermott was perched above on the mast, and as Sinbad came up alongside the Celtic sorceress she glanced over at him and smiled. It was almost as if nothing had happened. But Sinbad could sense a lingering sadness in her, a regret, and he knew its cause. He looked out towards the horizon, in the direction of Ren's home (now long disappeared) and sighed.

"Missing them already?" he asked, gently.

Maeve smiled a little, a long tendril of fiery hair dancing across her face in the breeze before she could brush it away. "You read my mind." she sighed.

Sinbad returned her smile. "Only if you want me to."

Maeve turned to face him at that statement, looking amused. "You're that sure of yourself, are you?"

"Well," Sinbad leaned back against the railing, rather enjoying the turn of this conversation. "I think I've made some progress."

"Really?" Maeve cocked an eyebrow at him and folded her arms. "So what am I thinking right now, then?"

He answered without hesitancy. "You're thinking about how much you miss Ren and Severa, and how sorry you are that you had to leave them."

She made a face. "Well that much is obvious," she retorted, unimpressed. "What about besides that?"

"Besides that?" Sinbad frowned a little. Now that he was concentrating, he realized that she was teasing him, for as he "tuned" himself into her thoughts he could feel the "barrier" she had erected around her mind. But it wasn't as solid or as strong as usual. He wondered if that was because she was still a little weak, or just because she felt like taking it easy on him.

She was watching him expectantly. "Well?" "Well . . . " Sinbad concentrated, but he soon realized that he still wasn't quite strong (or trained) enough to "read" anything further. Even though her defenses weren't back to their full strength. He hadn't practiced at all while Maeve was sick, except when he spoke to Dermott. And of course, Maeve knew it.

She smiled at his expression. "Never mind, Sinbad." she said, easily. "I was just teasing you. You still need more practice, and since I'm well again -" She smiled devilishly, "- practice you shall have."

Sinbad smiled at her tone, relieved to hear it. Maeve was right back to her old self. But, as they both fell silent and turned to gaze out companionably over the ocean once again, there was something nagging at him that he could no longer ignore. Something that he had been wrestling with ever since Maeve had first grown so deathly ill. And now that she was well again, now that they weren't surrounded by people, perhaps this peaceful moment was the best time to tell her. Before something else could happen to distract them.

Before he could lose his nerve.

"Maeve . . . " Sinbad took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He found that he was suddenly without words as she turned to look at him again, expectantly. What he had to tell her, he had never told any other woman. He took another deep breath. "Maeve . . . when you were sick . . . and I thought - that is, we all thought, that you . . . were . . "

"Going to die?" she cut in. Her bluntness never ceased to amaze him.

"Yes," Sinbad cleared his throat again, suddenly painfully aware of the other sailors moving past around them, and lowered his voice. Maybe this hadn't been as good an idea as he had first thought. But he didn't dare stop now. "When we thought that . . . when I thought . . . that you were going to die, I - it made me realize . . . that . . . I . .. "

"Sinbad," Maeve smiled again, knowingly, and before he could stammer out another word she had stepped closer, grabbed him by the vest, and kissed him. Soundly. Right there on deck, where everyone could see. And as completely shocked by that as he was, such thoughts very quickly vanished, and after a moment Sinbad no longer cared who was watching.

When Maeve finally broke away from him again they were both out of breath and amured, still smiling. Her beautiful eyes were sparkling, and she didn't seem to care one bit about the others. At the puzzled and mostly dazed expression on his face, Maeve grinned. "I can read your mind, too, you know." she continued, cocking an eyebrow wickedly. Then she kissed him again, and whispered in his ear, "But only when you want me to, of course."

And with that, she released him and headed below, smiling triumphantly as the other sailors, including Doubar, Rongar, and Firouz, broke into loud and enthusiastic applause all around her.

And Sinbad could only stand and stare.

The End