'I suppose,' she replied grudgingly. She saw the logic of it, but it still rubbed her raw. 'Second, then,' she conceded.
'There's something else. Something you'll like just as little,' he warned her.
'And that is?'
'Amber has bought her right to be aboard. She's put more coin and time into this than any other sailor aboard, and I include us both in that. I don't know what sort of a sailor she'll make; she's told me she has little taste for traveling by ship. She's proven herself a fine carpenter, in matters both great and small. So that will be her capacity aboard the vessel. She'll bunk in with you.'
Althea gave a groan of protest.
'And Jek,' he added remorselessly. 'She wanted to come along, she has good sea time from the Six Duchies, and she was willing to hire on cheap, 'for the dare of it' as she told me. You've seen her up the rigging when we strung it. She's nimble and fearless. I'd be a fool to refuse such a hand. I'd also be a fool to house her in with the dock scrapings we've taken on as crew. There's at least one who's been branded as a rapist, and another that even I won't turn my back on.' He shrugged. 'She'll bunk in with you and Amber. I'll put you on different watches, so you shouldn't be too crowded to sleep.'
'We're going to be stacked like cordwood in there,' Althea complained.
'Amber is as displeased about it as you are. She claims that some solitary time each day is essential to her. I've told her I'll give her some access to my room when I'm not in it. Same goes for you.'
'That'll cause talk amongst the crew.'
Brashen had grinned sourly. 'Let's just hope that's the most unsettling thing they have to gossip about.'
That was a sentiment Althea fervently shared. Even now, as she made her way down the sun-swept dock toward the ship, she prayed for an ordinary day. Let Paragon not be weeping endlessly into his hands, or reciting the same bawdy poem over and over. Some days, when she arrived and he gave her a pleasant good morning, it was like a direct blessing from Sa. Yesterday when she got to the dock, he had been holding a dead flounder some passing wag had given him. For some reason, the dead fish upset him, and yet he would not give it to her or put it down himself. Amber had finally coaxed it away from him. Sometimes she was the only one who could handle him.
Their total complement of crew members had been hired several days ago, and several times since then. Brashen would find sailors, convince them to sign aboard, and get them moved on, only to have them walk the next day. It wasn't just the bizarre things Paragon said or did. Like the smell of fear-sweat, his madness flavored the air of the ship. Those sensitive enough to feel it without knowing the source suffered nightmares, or sudden panics while working in the holds. Neither Brashen nor Althea tried to force any man to remain aboard. Althea knew it was better to lose them now than to have jittery or frightened men aboard once they set sail. It was still becoming a local joke. The mongrelized crew was unusual enough by Bingtown standards, without men jumping ship in the harbor and spreading rumors of the odd goings-on aboard the ship.
Today Paragon seemed calm enough. At least, she did not hear him ranting. As she reached his slip, the traffic along the dock seemed normal. 'Hey, Paragon,' she greeted him as she passed the figurehead on the way to the gangplank.
'Hey, yourself,' he replied affably. Amber was sitting on the bow rail swinging her legs. Her freed hair floated on the wind. She had adopted a strange style of dress of late, loose pantaloons and a blouse with a vest. As a foreigner in Bingtown, she could get away with such things. Althea envied her.
'Any word of the Ringsgold?' Paragon asked as she passed him.
'Not that I've heard,' she replied. 'Why?'
'There's been talk that he's late returning to Bingtown. The ships that should have seen him, haven't.'
Althea's heart sank in her. 'Well, a lot of things can delay a ship, even a liveship,' she pointed out jovially.
'Of course,' Paragon replied. 'Pirates. Serpents. Deadly storms.'
'Unfavorable winds,' Althea countered. 'Delays loading cargo.'
He gave a snort of contempt. Amber shrugged her shoulders at Althea. Well, at least he was rational today. Althea continued to the gangplank and came aboard. Lavoy was standing in the center of the deck. His fists were on his hips and he was glaring about with a hard eye. This was the most difficult, grating part.
'Reporting, sir,' she said stiffly.
He gave her a fish-eyed look. His gaze traveled up and down her and his mouth twisted in contempt. 'So I see,' he said after a moment. 'Supplies are coming aboard today. Pick a crew of six men and get below. Stow the goods as they come on. You know how to do that.' There was just the slightest bit of a question in his voice.
'I do,' she said flatly. She wasn't going to recite her credentials for him. She wore her ship's tag from Ophelia at her belt. It would have been good enough for anyone else on the Bingtown dock. She glanced about the deck and chose her hands for the day by jabbing a finger at them. 'Haff and you. Jek. Cypros. You and Kert. Come on.' She was still learning names. It wasn't made any easier by the way hands came and went. She didn't look forward to the task as she led them down to the hold.
Lavoy was running the shore crew, bringing the supplies on board and passing them down to her gang. It would be her job to load the cargo evenly and well. She suspected he would work his crew as fast and hard as he could to see if hers could keep up. There was always that sort of chivvying between mates on a vessel. Sometimes it was good-natured. This was not.
The Paragon had proven to be a lively ship on the water. Brashen had been most particular about his ballast, but he still rolled more than Althea liked. How he was loaded was going to be critical, especially if they were under full sail and a wind came up. Althea was divided. She didn't want to be the one responsible for his stability; at the same time, she didn't trust anyone else to do it, save perhaps Brashen. Her father had always been most particular about cargo. Perhaps she'd inherited that tendency.
Belowdecks, the air was hot and thick with ship smells. Even with the hatches open, the air was still and stagnant. She was grateful it was the smell of new tar and oakum and varnish. Before this voyage was over, the smells of aged bilge water, human sweat and rancid cooking would be added to the bouquet. For now, Paragon actually smelled like a new ship.
But he wasn't. Throughout him were the small signs of his usage. Initials carved in a bulkhead, old hooks where a hammock or ditty bag had been hung. Some signs were grim. Bloody handprints that suggested someone had crawled while bleeding heavily. A spatter that was obviously from a heavy blow. Wizardwood remembered. She suspected that at one time there had been a massacre on board the ship. That did not fit with Paragon's claims to have killed his crews, but any hint of a question about such things sent him into frenzy. She supposed they would never know the full truth of what he had endured.
She had been right about Lavoy. A steady stream of supplies soon threatened to overwhelm her work crew. Any fool could bring a box or cask aboard a ship quickly, she told herself. It took someone with some sea sense to know how to stow it all correctly. She worked alongside her crew. As second mate, that was expected of her. She sensed that this was part of the compromise that Brashen had offered. She still believed she could earn the crew's respect as an equal. She would get no better chance than now to prove it. She pushed Jek as hard as she did herself, taking the woman's measure to see if she was all she claimed to be. Jek appeared more at ease working alongside the men than the men did with her, but that was to be expected. Hers was the Six Duchies way. Jek measured up, and her good-natured humor eased the task. She would be a good shipmate. Althea's only concern was that she might become too friendly with the men. She had made no effort to conceal her lively appetites. Althea wondered if it would lead to later problems aboard the ship. Reluctantly, she concluded it was something she would have to bring up to Brashen. He was captain, after all. Let him handle it.
Light from the open hatches fell in squares down into the massive timbered holds. Once the crates, barrels and casks were loaded down, it was the work of muscles and bones alone to move them. Here Althea's shorter height gave her an odd advantage as she scrabbled over and around their cargo. Crates and bins were lowered down; her crew seized them by hand or snagged them with freight hooks. Container after container was shouldered into place, then blocked and wedged to prevent shifting. As barrel after barrel came down to be stowed, she reminded herself that all too soon they would likely wish they had had more to load aboard. The crew Paragon carried was larger than normal. They'd need enough men to fight and sail the ship at the same time. With no
