Did y'all expect the little Arden/Kel? I didn't. I swear, I didn't even realize I was POSTING it until I read the Preview in the Document Manager thing…oh well. . It'll create suspense. Especially when you read the later chapters…I have something special planned for them. Oh, and I'll be posting another fic pretty soon. -- I know, I know…but I can't help it. And are my fics original? I'm tearing my hair out, wondering if they're not. It's so ANNOYING!!! Ahem. Carry on.

Kassi: I wondered about the whole divider thing! I'll think of something…hmm…Short?? At least it's an UPDATE!! I oughta just take off this whole fic! .

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When Keladry woke up the next morning, she was stunned to find a long sinewy arm wrapped around her waist, and to feel herself pressed up against a warm naked body. She was even more shocked to find that it was Arden, and she too was nude.

She turned her head to look at him. He was so handsome…his blond curls, sincere crystalline eyes, finely arched dark blond eyebrows, firm nose, bow-shaped lips…truth be told, she had never seen anyone so attractive. Not even Neal, or Joren.

"Arden," she whispered into his ears, poking him gently in his stomach.

His thick lashes fluttered.

"Arden," she persisted.

Finally his bleary eyes opened to focus unclearly on her. For a moment, when he looked dumbstruck, she was afraid he was going to jump out of bed, yelling at her, calling her a whore or something. But then he smiled so sweetly…and he looked so happy…

What's this ache I feel? She wondered. Every time he looks at me like that it hurts so much, because I'm afraid it'll be the last.

Could it…Could it be that I feel more for him than just infatuation?

Arden brushed a tendril of hair out of her eyes, kissing her softly on the nose, and then rolling out of bed. Blushing, she watched his bare body slink across the room toward his clothes. He dressed, and turned to look at her.

"My rooms are the coolest," he said quietly. "And it's gonna be boilin' out today. So feel free to come in any time, and wear some of my clothes if you like, since you don't have any others."

He stared at her for a couple more seconds, watching her with warm eyes and a tender smile, then disappeared outside.

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"The Cap'n's badly wounded," Kris declared. "He may not make it."

This announcement was met with a stunned, appalled silence. Joren calmly spread slightly rancid butter over a moldy slice of bread and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He was wearing a bright red bandana around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. His attire was made solely of a pair of thin breeches. As a joke last night someone—he was not yet sure who—had poked a needle through his ear lobe and stuck a gold hoop in there. Since he thought it added a touch of tough class, he kept it there.

"Are you…are you sure?" Pincer whispered hoarsely. "I mean…how can you tell?"

"It's pretty obvious, Pincer," Kris replied quietly. "Frenn stabbed him in several places, and he's been having severe convulsions."

Some of the men bowed their heads mournfully. One burst out angrily, "That dirty, rotten, cheatin' assassin! He killed his own brother!"

Almost immediately an uproar resounded, as some screamed their fury and others stifled sobs. Joren, fed up, stood on a table and whistled sharply and shrilly.

It quieted.

"Honestly," he snapped, "you children act like your mama's dead and gone! Let me tell you something—there was never a for sure. It was only a maybe. The Captain may live yet, with some proper care."

"And who's gonna give it to 'em, mate?" one said cockily.

"Well…I will."

"Oh, come off it! You're no more a healer than I am!"

"Are you so sure?"

Apparently, there was no answer to this, and so Joren stumbled off the table to face Kris.

"Take me to him," he ordered.

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"We're almost there."

Kel blinked sleepily to look quizzically up at Frenn.

"Are you serious?" she asked stupidly.

"Of course. Carthak is not far from our home of Tortall."

(AN: Yeah, yeah, I know Carthak is probably WAAAAAAAY farther than that, but I want this to get the show on the road! Woo!)

"I thought it was further."

"You thought wrong."

Kel fell silent. Frenn was impossible to argue with, or even contradict. He was so confident and serious about everything. She tried to think of one time she had seen him give someone a genuine, meaningful smile, and could not.

"You slept with Arden."

Startled, she looked up at him. He kept his gaze out on the horizon.

"P-Pardon?"

"You slept with Arden," he repeated simply.

"How…how did you know?"

"You are wearing his clothes, and besides, I saw you two last night, on deck."

How…awkward.

"Oh," she managed weakly.

"Everybody knows, too," Frenn continued.

She frowned.

"Why? How?"

"I don't know, I'm not a god. Someone may have heard you, or seen you, as I have. I promise, though, I did not breathe a word."

"Frenn! Frenn!"

"What is it, Glenn?"

"A ship is comin' up on the starboard side!"

"Damn it, Lucas again?" the assassin hissed.

"No suh, it's the Abra Kadabra!"

"The Abra Kadabra," Frenn whispered. For the first time, he looked mildly unnerved. "The ship that houses the black spirits…on it rides the Priests of the Dark."

"What?" Kel asked, confused.

"They are the disciples of Lesenac, a bastard-god."

"I'm still terribly confused."

"Flee, child," Frenn murmured. He screamed, "Arden!"

"Yes sir?" Arden called, jogging toward him.

"Take the lifeboat. Take Keladry far away from here, and paddle hard. Hard and fast. Get her away from the Dark Priests, at any rate."

Arden paled visibly. "Right away sir."

He grabbed Kel's hand and pulled her with him.

"Flee to the Carthak capital, and wait for me there!"

"Yes sir!"

Relentlessly Arden shoved her in a small lifeboat and undid the ropes that held it. He tumbled inside it before it he cut the last two ropes, and they fell with a watery splash. The sky above them turned gray with a blackly bitter malice, and around them, waterspouts took form.

It was then that Kel noticed a ship slipping between two of the spouts, and coming at an impossibly fast rate toward them. It moved so quick, considering the fact that the wind was not in their favor, and that their sails were torn and ragged.

At the head of it stood fifty-odd men, each armed with a spear and watching the Sorcerer's Mistress with empty, soulless eyes.