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suppose I have only myself to thank for his bad opinion of me.”
    â€œYou are too hard on yourself,” said Garn, smiling.
    â€œAnd you are too good a friend,” said Skylan.
    Joabis was by the door, motioning him to hurry.
    Outside the sky was darkening with the coming of night, a gray gloom settling over the world. A blast of cold air hit him and he looked wistfully back over his shoulder at the fire’s bright glow, the warriors returning to their drinking and singing. Torval called for ale and motioned his bard to begin to play the harp and sing.
    â€œSomeday I will return a hero,” said Skylan.
    â€œJust not too soon, my friend,” said Garn. “We need you among the living. Give my love to Aylaen.”
    As the two embraced, Garn whispered in Skylan’s ear. “Keep your eye on Joabis!”
    â€œI would keep three eyes on him, if I had them,” Skylan returned. “Farewell, my friend.”
    As he was leaving, Skylan heard the bard singing a song of the glory of the Vindrasi and he saw Torval sitting in his chair, listening with an expression of sorrow and melancholy that made Skylan’s heart ache.
    He put his hand to the amulet, only to remember that it was lost.
    â€œMake haste!” Joabis said, shoving Skylan over the threshold.
    The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Skylan and the God of the Revel out in the snow and cold.

 
    CHAPTER
    4
    Acronis, former Legate of the Oran Empire, woke in the night to the creaking of timbers and the feel of the dragonship gently gliding over the calm sea. He had made his bed on a pallet on deck and from where he was lying he could see the square sail black against the glittering stars and, beyond, the graceful curve of the neck of the dragon’s head prow.
    At first glance, the casual observer would take the figurehead for an ornate and beautiful carving of a dragon. Upon close examination, the observer would see that the eyes of the dragon glowed red with a fiery intelligence. The observer would also note that no one was rowing the ship or steering it, yet it sped across the waves, sending up foam in its wake. The Dragon Kahg had imbued his spirit into the dragonship and was sailing the vessel.
    The feel, the sight, the sounds of a ship at sea were familiar to Acronis. As a Legate, he had spent most of his forty-some years at sea, commanding a Sinarian war galley, a trireme. He had been a powerful man in the capital city of Sinaria, a very wealthy man, until he had run afoul of a new god, Aelon, and her new Priest-General, Raegar.
    When his beloved daughter, Chloe, had died, Acronis had lost the will to live and tried to end his life. But he was stopped by Skylan Ivorson, who had once vowed to kill him and instead had turned out to be his salvation.
    Acronis had left Sinaria and his old life behind to set sail with Skylan in the dragonship, Venejekar , for reasons Acronis did not yet quite understand. He had been lost, adrift, desolate; Skylan had hit him like a tidal wave, crashing into his life, sweeping him up and carrying him along with him on an unusual quest to save strange gods.
    Acronis was too old to have any illusions about Skylan’s reasons. Skylan had not saved his former master out of friendship nor—to give Skylan credit—for revenge. His reasons were practical. Acronis knew how to read a map and chart a course. He had sailed these waters for years and was familiar with the customs and cultures of many of the world’s people, including the ogres.
    He and Skylan had started out as enemies, only to find friendship during the time they had spent together on board the dragonship. Acronis had come to admire and even love the courageous young man who strode through life boldly, fighting impossible odds to save his gods and his people, only to have his quest ended by a spear in the back.
    When Skylan had died in the arms of his beloved wife, Aylaen, Acronis had mourned him as a son. Now the young