The Queen Nel-en was a day out of Portshome when Tella realized the woman who kept glancing in his direction was one of the Tenders who had ended his apprenticeship. He hadn't thought returning home a failure on his least favorite mode of transportation could get any worse, but apparently, his expectations simply hadn't been low enough. By the time their ship reached the Eldin Sea, he had decided to confront her.
        He half-lurched, half-walked to where she sat cross-legged inspecting rope near the capstan. He hated the heaving deck, but on the other hand, he also hated the claustrophobic cabins below, so this was as good a place as any.
        "You're a Tender," he told her.
        She looked up. "I'm aware."
        "But you're not displaying your pendant."
        "Also true. Is this conversation meant to be informative for one of us?"
        "Why is it hidden?"
        She used the drum-like capstan to steady herself as she rose. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back from her wind-chapped face, making her look older than when he'd seen her with her robed companions on his last day of training. "Tenders don't have the same authority in these lands that they do in Venille. Here I'm just a passenger."
        "A Tender is never just a passenger."
        She shrugged. "How are you enjoying the trip?"
        His nausea was so all-consuming he couldn't imagine she could look at him without seeing it. "Is that why you're accompanied by a squadron of the Queen's marines?"
        "The marines don't answer to me."
        He stumbled as the deck pitched again. He was no longer sure what he wanted out of this exchange. "Do you remember who I am?"
        "I remember every Tender initiate I vote against," she said with a slight smile.
        He stared at her, not sure from her tone and expression whether she meant the comment to be insulting or was clumsily trying to break the awkwardness between them, and deciding that in either case maybe it was for the best that the Tenders had kicked him out and his days around Venillans were numbered.
        Abruptly, she looked past him. The sharpness in her eyes made him turn and squint at the growing smudge on the horizon.
        It soon revealed itself as a galley in the distance, fast and sleek, its mainsail full. From the mast flew a flapping flag: a sun stabbed through with a sword.
        "Pirates," the Tender said.

        Ollwen, the first mate, handed his spyglass to the captain. "A Venille merchant schooner. Low in the water, obviously carrying cargo. Shall we attack?"
        "Our holds are full," Kellen replied, glancing through the spyglass and handing it back. "What would be the point?"
        "Don't ye want to see what they're carrying?"
        "That's certainly an option, aye. Another option would be to drink too much rum to stand surrounded by wave dancers back on Eldin, which by happenstance is what I've promised the crew."
        Ollwen brandished the spyglass as if ready to hit it against something. "We can take their ship."
        "We could, yea, definitely. But we'd need rowers and sailors or enough taskmasters to make them do it. Who do ye suppose we'd spare?"
        "Then let's attack to attack. We don't pirate anymore." Ollwen slapped the taffrail. "We just collect protection money from the Guardian Guild. But we have no deals with Venille. This is our chance to let our crew remember how to wield their swords."
        "Aye, I hear ye." Kellen clapped his first mate sympathetically on the shoulder. "But what's the purpose of flying a free flag if every time I see another ship, I have to stop whatever I'm doing and board it? Even if what I was on my way to doing was drinking rum and enjoying Eldin's best dancers?"
        "Ye're here to sit and watch dancers?" Ollwen still looked ready to do violence with the spyglass. "Because I'm here for the fighting."
        "That's good. I like that. But we don't have to do that every day, is what I'm saying."
        Nera walked up to them. She was dressed like the crew in linen blouse and breeches, but her smooth skin and still-glossy hair failed to cooperate with the costume. "I saw the ship. Are we going to attack?"
        Kellen sighed. "Neither your presence nor your opinions are required in this conference."
        Nera raised her chin. "Is that any way to treat a guest?"
        "Ye're not a guest." Kellen shot Ollwen his "Remove her from the deck" glance.
        A shout came from the lookout. "They've spotted us! They're tacking southwest!"
        "Southwest?" Kellen gestured for the spyglass back and peered through it. "Straight for the reef. That won't be pretty."
        "They must've skimped when they paid for their charts," Ollwen said.
        "Can I get a turn at the glass?" Nera asked.
        Kellen ignored her. He passed the spyglass back to his first mate and grunted. "They're about to fillet their boat. I guess they've given us no choice. Let's go and pick up their treasure."

        The deck lurched to the sound of rock scraping wood. The ship's momentum came to a sudden halt and barrels, people and anything not tied down flew toward the bow. Tella snatched a shroud and used it to arrest his fall. He continued to cling to the stout rope as the ship's boards squealed and groaned. There was no sign of land or whatever it was they had hit, just the same seething gray water they'd traversed since sunup in every direction.
        Somehow the Tender was already taking charge, as Tenders were wont to do, directing sailors near the companionway to build an impromptu contraption out of ropes and staves. For a moment, Tella almost sympathized with her assessment that he didn't belong among the Tenders' enterprising ranks. But he ran to help anyway, and the engineering project quickly took form: a pulley to facilitate bailing out the lower decks.
        Beside him, a sailor straightened and drew his sword. Tella looked up to see the pirate's galley closing in, the twin rows of oars plowing water, the bronze ram rushing toward them.
        Sailors ran across the deck and shouted. Men with sloshing buckets threw water over the boards to make them slick for the attackers. The Queen's marines mustered as the boatswain shouted orders down to the crew members scrambling for some way to prevent the ship from breaking apart.
        The galley swung around parallel to the Queen Nel-en's starboard side and fired crossbow bolts across the deck. Tella dropped behind the railing. A grappling hook thwacked down beside him, almost decapitating him, and crunched into the wood as the rope holding it went taut. Tella lodged his heels against the boards and wrestled the hook out, throwing it overboard as more grappling hooks thudded down on either side.
        Tella grabbed a stave and fell back as the pirates, men and women from every corner of Eregoth and all bearing the same short, narrow swords, swarmed the deck. The marines marched past him to meet them.
        The fighting was quick and ferocious. Tella expected the disciplined Venillans to make short work of the shouting attackers. What he hadn't expected were the rivvens. He had heard of the small, flying creatures that only ate the cakowa nuts that grew exclusively in northern Eldin, but because there weren't any cakowas in the Ardenlands or Venille he'd never seen one. Now half a dozen of the reptiles, their bodies the size of clenched fists and their wings membranous as bats', swooped and dove between the marines. They seemed to boast three weapons: an eardrum-stabbing screech that was almost incapacitating, tiny slashing claws, and the ability to shoot a sticky black paste that stuck to everything it touched.
        The marines paused to hack the rivvens out of the air, and in the midst of slaughtering the airborne menace, they were surrounded by the pirates and swiftly cut down.
        Meanwhile, a group of Venillan sailors had tried to block the companionway and was being driven back. The pulley had been destroyed sometime in the chaos. On the port side, other sailors were lowering lifeboats into the water. The first mate climbed down after them.
        The ship lurched. Tella stumbled but kept his balance. The angle of the deck was getting steeper.
        "Hurry!" one of the pirates shouted. "Grab what you can before she sinks!"
        Tella ran to the port railing and looked over. A small flotilla of rowboats was pushing off from the side of the ship. A sailor standing near Tella laughed, but he sounded more panicked than amused. "That's the captain down there. How well can you swim?"
        A group of the freebooters staggered back toward their ship beneath the weight of two heavy chests extricated from belowdecks. A small mob of Venillan crewmen charged them and were intercepted by more of the pirates.
        The pirates pushed forward, savagely, driving the crew members back. Tella heard splashes as sailors jumped overboard. He threw away the stave, grabbed a fallen sword, and advanced.
        A pirate swung at him, and he parried. The blow's force shot up his arms. The pirate swung again and again. Tella blocked twice, a third and a fourth time, and then his sword spun out of his grip and the pirate fell forward against him. Tella heard his grunt and smelled the sweat and rum of his skin.
        They wrestled over the slippery, blood-smeared deck until they hit the railing. The pirate stepped back and raised his blade, and Tella threw himself over. For a weightless moment, he was in the air and then he struck the surface and plunged below. He fought back up and blinked water out of his eyes. Around him, sailors tread water or drowned.
        The nearest rowboat was still struggling to put distance between it and the Queen, so that's where he headed.
        "We're full up," a sailor said, stabbing at him with his oar. Tella circled the boat, and more oars beat down against the water to keep him back. With nowhere else to go, he swam back to the ship.
        The hull at the waterline was slippery with algae, but several ropes still dangled where the boats had been dropped. He hauled himself up out of the water and climbed. His lungs were raw, and his muscles burned from swimming. He was almost to the top when he saw the Tender clinging to the underside of the prow. Her hair stirred as if touched by a breeze, even though where Tella clung against the side the air was still. It was still the quarter of Urln, and with her ancient arts she would be able to coax the wind, just as she would be able to call waves out of the water during the quarter of Alen. But none of those powers had saved this ship. He kept climbing.
        He clambered onto the deck a few moments later. A pirate's sword immediately came down to nick his neck.
        "Better than drowning," he muttered and tried to stand up. His heel slipped and he came down on his rear. The sword waved menacingly. He frowned at it and used the railing to pull himself to his feet. Behind the pirate who held the sword, the captain regarded him with curiosity.
        It was obviously the captain, because he wore a festively decorated tricorne hat and extravagantly ballooning pantaloons that both appeared to require more upkeep than would normally be practical with a nautical lifestyle, and because he had an aloof, supervisory air.
        Tella stepped forward in his dripping clothes. "Take us with you."
        The captain eyed him. "Maybe. We just lost Jerry and Conlon and Thomas. Can ye row?" He squinted. "Ye look like ye'd run at the first sign of trouble. We'd likely have to chain ye to the oar."
        "Not just me. Everyone still on this ship or in the water. Take us to land."
        "Captain," the pirate guarding Tella said, "this ship is listing something terrible. It's time to get back to the Cutlass, maybe?" Out of the corner of his eye, Tella saw the Tender climb onto the deck.
        The captain laughed. "We're not a ferry service. We don't have the space nor the food."
        "Don't you take prisoners?"
        Another laugh, but more distracted this time. The captain glanced at his own ship impatiently. "How much ransom do ye expect to fetch? Are ye a lord?"
        "No. I'm a, well, a scholar."
        "Well, then."
        "You can't just leave us here." The ship groaned again. The captain didn't seem to notice.
        "We already have a ransomed lord, and we can't get her to leave. The pirate's life is too attractive."
        "I promise you, take us to land, and we'll leave." The Tender came nearer, close enough to listen but not enough to seem threatening.
        "Captain," the other pirate pleaded again.
        "There's something the marines were guarding," Tella said. "Belowdecks. Your people haven't found it. I can lead you to it."
        The captain arched an eyebrow. It looked like a practiced move. "Truly now? What is it?"
        "I don't know. But it must be valuable."
        The captain grinned. "Must it, now." But he gave his beard a contemplative stroke.
        The Tender stepped forward. "It's a tree."
        The captain raised both eyebrows this time. "Ye were transporting a tree?"
        "Yes."
        "Really. Why?"
        The Tender stood silently for a moment. Finally, she said, "The parent tree comes from Erindor, across the Drakkné Ocean. It has ancient magic."
        Tella stared at her. Was she referring to the Morning Tree? Was she telling the truth, or just stringing the pirates along?
        "The tree is magic?" the captain demanded. The Tender met his gaze. "Yes."
        "What does it do?"
        "It blooms according to the seasons of Erindor, wherever it is. And it makes Tender arts more powerful."
        The captain frowned. "That doesn't sound very interesting."
        The Tender surprised Tella by giving the captain a wry smile. "Its other power is that for its weight, it is very, very valuable."
        The captain grinned. "That's a magic I like. Show Gregg and Petey here where it is. If it looks impressive, I'll give ye passage on our vessel. Whether I indenture ye or set ye free once we get to land depends on how the trip goes."
        Tella and the Tender led the pirates belowdecks. It was cramped and dark and smelled like unbathed sailors. The passage was tilted at such an acute angle that they had to use the walls for support. By the time they reached the door at the end, they were wading through saltwater. An iron lock hung from the latch.
        One of the pirates waved Tella out of the way and used his hilt to smash the lock. They pushed the door open, and there was a tree that Tella had read about but hadn't been sure really existed, and certainly never thought he would see in person.

        "I've read about the Morning Tree," Tella said, "but I didn't know a cutting had been brought here to Eregoth. It was discovered--"
        The pirate captain, Kellen, clapped him on the shoulder. "It sounds fascinating. Ye'll have to tell me about it over a bottle of rum someday." He strode off to where his crew was inspecting their spoils.
        Tella wandered the pirates' deck until he came across someone who looked almost as out of place as he did: a young woman who gave no indication of being a sailor, despite being dressed the part in loose linen blouse and pants. He approached her.
        "You're from the Venille ship?" she asked. He nodded. "Well met. I'm Nera Wend of the Mining Guild." She said the words firmly and with a slight nod as if subconsciously giving him permission to applaud.
        "I'm Tella Ploughman."
        Nera paused. She might have been deciding whether or not to continue with the conversation after that revelation. "I saw they took a potted tree off of your ship."
        "Yes, the Morning Tree." Tella hesitated over the name, still awed and far from certain he had done the right thing.
        "A tree with a name? And also silver bark and leaves that sound like chimes?"
        "It's--"
        "Somehow important enough for Captain Kellen to bring it aboard. To carry to an island that is already well-endowed with a great variety of trees."
        "Well, the Tenders tell--"
        She looked at him with interest for the first time. "Oh, you're from Venille? Or maybe Crysmyyr?"
        "No, actually, I'm from the Ardenlands. I was in Venille to train--"
        She frowned. The interest was gone. "I assumed so, at first, because of your accent. But I thought Tenders are all from Venille or Crysmyyr."
        "Well, yes, you're right. You seem to know a lot about the Tenders."
        "I know my history." There was a shrug in her voice. "My sisters and I had tutors from the Scholars' Guild. We studied all the old cultures."
        "It's not just old cultures. There are still Tenders now. That's what I'm--"
        "But there aren't Tenders in the Ardenlands, are there?"
        "Well, no, I went to Venille a couple cycles ago, actually, to become a Tender. I trained under--"
        "So, you are a Tender!"
        The skin on Tella's neck was getting hot. "Well, no."
        She looked confused.
        "I trained," he said, trying to make his voice confident and casual, but hearing its tightness, "but I failed."
        "Oh. I'm sorry." Clearly, she was not sorry.
        "I'm on my way back to my parents' farm."
        "Well, that seems like a fine thing, right? That's what you do in the Ardenlands, my tutor said, you farm. It's what you're all good at, just like in the Golden Alliance we're good at making money and running things."
        "No. I mean, yes, for most of them, for my friends, that's what they want. But I wanted to be a Tender. My whole life, I was preparing. I took the tests, and I thought I was close; I passed everything, the studying of the Cycle and the Triangle, martial skills and agricultural lore, and then--"
        "Suppertime!" shouted a sailor who might have been the steward.
        "Ah, well," said Nera, turning. "It's suppertime."
        Tella found the Tender a short time later. He was ravenous, and from his first few bites he knew the hot fish on his tray was delicious, even if he had to spit out dozens of tiny bones. He sat down next to her, planning to make peace. He'd ended their first exchange more annoyed with himself than her, and now on this pirate vessel, after they'd somewhat collaborated to rescue themselves and the Morning Tree, he felt they were on the same side. But when she glanced in his direction, he couldn't help himself.
        "I passed all the tests. The final answers I gave, about how I would have defended Erindor from the tribes--I was right. Everything I said was from the histories."
        "You had your chance."
        "I should be a Tender."
        She picked at the last of her bones and shifted her weight as if to rise. "I'm going to see if there's more."
        "The marines, they were there to guard the tree, weren't they?"
        The Tender hesitated. "Yes."
        "And that's why you came as well?"
        "I was there for the tree, too, yes, but the Queen didn't send me. The High Tender did."
        "Why would the Morning Tree, if Venille's been sheltering it all this time, why would it be shipped away? Where was it going?"
        "You're not a Venillan, and even if you were, I couldn't tell you that."
        "I can feel it." Tella closed his eyes, tightly, for a couple of heartbeats. "Now that I'm close to it, I can feel the power it sends, through the wood of this ship. It's almost dusk, the quarter of Alen, and already I'm less seasick. It's the tree. I feel like the water's alive, waiting for us. I'm not even a Tender, and I can feel it."
        She watched him. She'd told him she was going to get up, but sometime since then she'd set her tray back down.
        He met her eyes. "Or maybe that means I really am a Tender, after all. If I can sense the tree's power."
        "The Tenders tell you when you become a Tender." She exhaled a long breath. "But you're right. I do owe you more than I've given you. So, I'll tell you the truth, which is as harsh as it is simple: Venille is in debt to the Golden Alliance, and it needs even more money. To keep lending, the Alliance demanded some of our treasures, and one of them is the tree."
        Tella's instinct was to thank her for telling him. He stopped himself. I should already have known that. I should have been one of the Tenders guarding it.
        "You know my name. You know almost everything about me. What is your name? Or do I only call you Tender?"
        "Lyssa."
        "Ships on starboard!" the lookout called.
        Tella and Lyssa joined the others who crowded the railing. The ships were a trio of galleys like the Cutlass, but bigger. When they got closer, Tella could see they had hooks for armor, but the armor was off, making them swifter.
        "The Guardian Guild," someone said.
        "I suppose they've come to rescue me," Nera speculated.
        "Nay," said Kellen, "more likely to pay their tribute. But I do encourage ye to view it as a rescue, and consider your time with us complete."
        "No," Ollwen said in a low voice, "they've already paid their tribute for this month."
        The ships were close enough now that they could see armed soldiers on their decks. An instant later, a cloud of arrows shot up in an arc from behind them, seemed to hover for a moment, and then rained from the sky.
        Pirates screamed as they were hit.
        Poles swung down with iron hooks that snared the Cutlass and pulled it close. Guardian Guild soldiers jumped onto the deck with their swords out.
        Tella borrowed a sword from a pirate and joined the fray. Kellen gritted his teeth while he fought, but Ollwen, when Tella caught a glimpse of him, was obviously enjoying himself, grinning viciously as he slashed and stabbed.
        To Tella's right, Nera fought energetically until she pushed her attacker back onto a rope. His legs twisted, and he fell. She kicked his sword away. Triumphant, she announced in a loud voice, "I am Nera Wend of the Mining Guild. I accept your attempted rescue." She sheathed her blade and made way to the Guardian Guild ship.
        The fighting surged away from Tella. He swept the deck with his eyes. The pirates were outnumbered, had been taken off-guard, and no longer had their pet rivvens. They looked doomed.
        "They must be here for the tree," Tella said.
        "Then we shall keep it from them," Ollwen said from nearby.
        "Giving it to them is the only way to save the ship." He knew he should have no loyalty to pirates, but they had rescued him, even if for a price.
        "Nay, we cannot surrender," said Kellen, "or we are lost as free sailors."
        "They outnumber us," Ollwen said. "Why would they let us go, even if they did have the tree?"
        Tella stepped back in the shelter of the mast. The sun had descended, leaving the water churning darkness. The three Guardian Guild ships were silhouettes cut out of the sky.
        The quarter of Alen was ending, but it was not yet done.
        He felt the power from the tree, felt it flow through the wood like water, like life. It flowed up through his legs, through his feet planted on the deck, and he felt the whole mass of the ship, shifting in the water, and he felt the water itself, this patch of liquid out of the vastness, and he felt the small waves furrowed by wind, their agitated motion across the surface, felt the open stretch of the deep below him, and he gathered the water like bunching up a robe, with the force from the tree, force flowing through him, through the ship, into the sea, and he dashed two of the Guardian Guild ships together. He heard their crunch as timbers splintered.
        The guild soldiers heard it, too.
        Tella stepped forward. "Captain, this is your chance. Let them take the tree to save their pride and justify their retreat."

        Late that night, Lyssa took a seat beside him. She shivered in the cold. "I didn't tell you why I was on the Queen Nel-en."
        "I noticed."
        "The High Tender wanted to make sure the Morning Tree never made it to the Alliance, even if it meant destroying it. I changed the navigator's charts, and I nudged things to make sure the ship would go down."
        "They were willing to lose the tree?"
        "Rather than give up our heritage and power to an upstart nation that already has us in their debt, and has no interest in understanding what they're getting, except as a trophy? Yes."
        "Did you agree?"
        "No. But I did what I had to do, what the Tenders together decided was best for Venille and for all Eregoth."
        He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Then it's good that I'm not a Tender, because I don't understand that." He gave a rueful smile. "But I guess I ruined your plans anyway. I got the tree rescued, and then I gave it away."
        She watched him. He couldn't see her expression, only the occasional gleam of her eyes in the dim starlight. He breathed in the wet salt air.
        "I don't know if it was the right thing to do. Even before now, when I just found out I ruined the Tenders' plans. Trading the tree for the lives of pirates. . . I don't know."
        She reached beneath her shirt and pulled up a pendant. It was on a thin cord, which she removed from around her neck. She leaned forward and placed it around his.
        It was a ruby, shaped like a teardrop, modeled on the legendary Lavaliere of Command of Ancient Erindor.
        "You're giving me your pendant?"
        "I can get another one."
        "But only a Tender can wear this."
        "Yes," she said, "and not until you're ready to question your own actions, are you ready to become a Tender and become an advisor to queens and kings."
        He touched the cool stone. "I never read about that."
        Not all the tests are written down." She stood. "Well met, Tender Tella of the Ardenlands."