“Easily said!” trumpeted an orange serpent angrily. “But harder to live. Winter is here, prophet, perhaps the last winter we shall ever know. You cannot guide us; the world is too much changed. Without a sure guide, to go north yet again is to die. What real choice have we but to flee to the warm lands? When next we return, there will be far fewer of us. And what will we remember?” The orange swiveled her head to stare at the ship coldly. “Let us kill him. It is a small price for our salvation.”

“A small price!” a long scarlet serpent agreed with the orange. “This ship who can give us no answers, who does not even claim a name among us, is a small price to pay for the survival of all our kind. She Who Remembers has said it herself. When we kill, we kill because we choose to do so. We kill for ourselves. This will indeed be for ourselves, if his death will buy survival for us all.”

“Do we buy our lives from humans, paying with the blood of our own? I think not!” The mottled saffron serpent who challenged these words did so with mane erect. He advanced on the long red serpent as he did so. “What will come next? Will humans command us to turn on one another?” In a display of disdain, the challenger shook fish-stun toxins from his mane onto the red.

The long red serpent retaliated with a roar, shaking his head and spattering venom wildly on his neighbors. Almost instantly, the two serpents locked in combat, wrapping one another and releasing spray after spray of venom. Others darted into the conflict. A drift of toxin hit one of the giant blues, who reacted reflexively with a stinging spray of his own. Furious with pain, a green closed with him and wrapped him. Their struggles thrashed the water around them to white foam, driving lesser serpents to collide with others, who sprayed or snapped in response. The chaos spread.

Over it all, Shreever heard the bellowing of the silver ship. “Stop! You injure one another! Cease this! Kill me if you must, but do not end yourselves in this useless wrangling!”

Did one of the serpents take him at his word? Was the drift of venom that brought hoarse screams from him an accident? Had it been intended for another serpent? Too late to wonder, useless to know. The silver ship bellowed his agony in a human voice, flailing uselessly at the burning mist. The cries of humans were mixed with his, a wild pitiful screaming. Then from the deck of the ship, a winging arrow skipped over Shreever’s hide and bounced harmlessly off Maulkin. The futile attack on their leader was enough to enrage the agitated serpents. A score of the serpents closed on the hapless ship. One immense cobalt rammed it as if it were an orca, while several lesser ones spattered venom at him. They were not accustomed to fighting above the Plenty. The fickle winds of the upper world carried most of their spray back into their own faces. It only increased the frenzy of the attack.

“Stop them!” Maulkin was roaring, and She Who Remembers lent her voice as well. “Cease this madness! We battle ourselves, to no good end.”

The white serpent’s voice rang out over all of them. “If Bolt wants this ship killed, let her do it herself! Let her prove herself to us as worthy of being followed. Challenge her to the kill!”

It was his words, rather than those of the leaders, that seemed to damp the frenzy. Sessurea wrapped two struggling serpents and carried them down and away from the ship. Shreever and others followed his example, dragging the combatants down and away into the calming depths of the Plenty until they could master themselves. The madness that had seized them all began to disperse.

AS ABRUPTLY AS THE ATTACK HAD BEGUN, IT CEASED. “l DON’T UNDERSTAND.” Brashen staggered to the railing and stared incredulously at the serpents as they flowed away from his ship. “What does it mean?”

Clef grinned up at him in white-faced relief. He clutched at his scalded forearm but still managed to grin. “Means we don’t gotter die yet?”

The length of the ship, men were screaming and staggering, pawing painfully at smarting flesh. Only two of his archers had been hit with a direct spray of the stuff, but the drift had debilitated many. Those who had been affected were dropping now, to writhe on the deck, pawing uselessly at the slime that ate at them. “Don’t rub your injuries! You’ll only spread the stuff. Sea water!” Brashen bellowed out over the confusion. “Get the deck pumps going! Every man who can manage a bucket! Wash down the figurehead, your mates and the deck. Dilute the stuff. Scramble!”

Brashen quickly scanned the water, hoping for a glimpse of Althea’s boat. He had seen her regain command of it. While the serpents surrounded Paragon, she had turned it once more toward Vivacia. The dazzle of sunlight on the waves and the moving, flashing backs of the serpents surrounding the other ship confused his eyes. Where was she? Had she reached safety? It was so hard to set her from his mind. It was a physical wrench to turn his back on the water. He could do nothing for her; his immediate duties were closer to hand.