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knees like a night shirt, and he had to roll the sleeves several times to uncover his hands.
    The door opened, and Nylan whirled around to stare wide -eyed at the captain. A younger man stood behind him, craning his neck.
    T o get a good look at the royal prisoner , Nylan thought. He could feel the younger man’s anger from across the room.
    “ What right’s he have to such luxury?” the young man demanded.
    “ Go on. Get back to work,” the captain growled. He turned back to Nylan and said, “I had them sweep out your cell and put a chamber pot in there. You’ll have a blanket, too.”
    “ Thank you,” Nylan breathed. He could feel himself beginning to shake, though he told himself it was from cold rather than fear.
    The pirate captain grinned. “Only one little lesson and already His Highness has learned such pretty manners.” He crossed the room, placed an oddly gentle hand on Nylan’s shoulder, and guided him back to his cell. Nylan didn’t resist. What could he do, after all? Even if he could escape the pirate captain, the boat was filled with men who might be even worse, and beyond them lay only the treacherous waters of the Gulf of Souls.
    From then on, Nylan kept track of the days by counting his meals. The captain visited him twice every day, bringing him water and some sort of strange, hard bread and carelessly calling that a meal. The man allowed him one brief respite from his tiny cell each day, too, during which he could run a comb through his hair and make use of a bowl of cold water and a cloth to wash up. That was when the room was swept out and the chamber pot emptied, for the captain didn’t allow any of his men to enter Nylan’s cell when he was there.
    The blanket proved to be thin and completely inadequate to the task of keeping him warm. His hunger only made him colder, and it seemed to Nylan that he was given smaller and smaller bits of bread at every meal. By the third day, he was hungry all the time.
    He could smell the wonderful odors of the hot, rich foods the captain ate in his cabin just across the corridor, and that made his hunger worse. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t given more food—not even more bread. He didn’t understand any of it, but he knew better than to ask.
    In spite of the hours he spent trying to find it, his silent center was proving elusive, too. I’m too young for this. I’m too young to be away from Tanara. Don’t they know that?
    But he was not too young to understand how bad his situation was. He’d been raised as a prince, and princes had to grow up quickly, or so Jary had always said. He’d sounded sad when he’d said this, but he’d never wavered. He’d been determined, he’d said, to prepare Nylan for whatever he might face once he left Tanara for good.
    Thanks to this, Nylan understood complexities and dangers far beyond those a normal child his age would. And he knew that, away from the safety and protection not only of his own warder but of Tanara Priory itself, his chances of survival were very poor. He shouldn’t even have been exposed to the painful din of non-Sensitive minds until he’d learned to access his silent center—something that only rare Sensitives had ever done before their tenth year.
    Aside from Healer Bairbre and Flannery, he’d had no contact with anyone outside of Tanara. Well, I’ve met Durran a few times, but... His brother’s visits had been short and formal. Even with the Llorkas, Jarlyth had always been there with him, blocking out the noise of their minds for him, making it possible for him to spend time with them.
    Nylan couldn ’t find his silent center; he couldn’t block out the pirates’ minds; but that also meant he couldn’t shut his mind to anyone seeking him.
    If the wizards are looking for me, they shouldn ’t have any trouble , but he’d felt not even the lightest glimmer of a magical touch from across the waters.
    Oh, Vail, I ’m too young for this. I’m too young to be alone. Please