our serpents. Let him negotiate his truce with them.'
'Sir,' Jola acknowledged him and was swiftly gone.
Kennit made his way forward. The tapping of his peg sounded loud to him. Men hurried past and around him, each intent on getting to his post. None of them really paused to look at him. None of them could really see him anymore. They saw only Kennit, King of the Pirate Isles. And was not that what he always wanted? To be seen as the man he had made of himself? Yet still he could imagine how Paragon would bellow in dismay at the sight of his missing leg, or exclaim in delight over the fine cut of his brocade jacket. Triumph was not as keen, he suddenly saw, when it was shared only with those who had always expected you to succeed. On all the seas in all the world, there was only one who truly knew all Kennit had gone through to reach these heights, only one who could understand how keen the triumph was and how deep the pits of misfortune had been. Only one who could betray his past so completely. Paragon had to die. There was no other way. And this time, Kennit must be sure of it.
As he climbed the short ladder to the foredeck, he saw with dismay that Etta and Wintrow were already there. Wintrow leaned on the railing, obviously deep in conversation with the figurehead. Etta merely stared across the water at Paragon, a strange expression on her face. Her dark hair teased the rising wind. He gained the foredeck and shaded his eyes to follow her gaze. The Paragon was drawing steadily closer. Kennit could already make out the familiar figurehead. His heart turned over at the sight of the cruelly chopped face. Shame burned him, followed by a rush of fury. It could not be blamed on him. No one, not even Paragon could blame him. Igrot's fault, it was all Igrot's fault. The cold horror of it reached across the water and burned him. The blood rushed uncontrollably to his face. Dread dizzied him, and he lifted a shaking hand to his face.
'You let him take all the pain for you,' the charm breathed by his ear. 'He said he would, and you let him.' The charm smiled. 'It's all still there, just waiting for you. With him.'
'Shut up,' Kennit grated. With trembling fingers, he tried to unknot the damnable thing from his wrist. He would throw it overboard, it would sink and be gone forever with all it knew. But his fingers were oddly clumsy, almost numb. He could not undo the tight leather knots. He tugged at the charm itself, but the cords held.
'Kennit, Kennit! Are you well?'
Stupid whore, always asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. He wrenched his emotions under control. He took out his handkerchief and patted sweat from his chilled brow. He found his voice.
'I am quite well, of course. And you?'
'You looked so… for an instant, I feared you would faint.' Etta's eyes roved over his face, trying to read it. She tried to take his hands in hers.
That would never do. He smiled his small smile at her. Distract her. 'The boy,' he asked in a low voice with a nod toward Wintrow. 'This may be hard for him. How is he?'
'Torn,' Etta immediately confided in him. A lesser man might have been offended at how easily he had turned her concern from himself to Wintrow. But Etta was, after all, only a whore. She sighed. 'He strives, over and over, to wring some response from the ship. He demands that she react to him as Vivacia. Of course, she does not. Just now, he seeks some reaction to Althea's presence from her. She gives him nothing. When he reminded her that you had promised him Althea would not be harmed, she laughed and said that was your promise, not hers. It struck him to the heart that she said that an agreement with you was not a promise to him.' She dropped her voice lower. 'It would mean much to him if you would reassure him that you would keep your word.'
Kennit lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug. 'As much as I can, I will. It is as I told him before. Sometimes folk are determined to fight to the death, and then what can I do? Surely he does not expect me to allow her to kill me in order to keep my word to him?'
For a moment, Etta just looked at him. She seemed twice on the point of saying something, but made no sound. Finally, she asked quietly, 'They have hoisted a truce flag. I suppose that could be a deception. But… but you will try to keep your promise?'
He cocked his head at her. 'Such an odd question. Of course I shall.' He made his smile warmer. He offered her his arm, and she took it and walked beside him to the railing. 'If things begin to go badly-use your judgment in this-but if you suspect that things may not turn out as Wintrow would wish, take him below,' he said quietly. 'Find an excuse, a distraction of any kind. Any kind at all.'
Etta flickered a glance at him. 'He is scarcely a child, to forget one toy when another is waved at him.'
'Do not misunderstand me. I only say what we both know is true. You are a woman well capable of distracting any man. Whatever you must do, I would not hold it against you. Anything. I do not expect you can make him forget his family is involved in this, but he need not witness it at firsthand.' There. He could not make the hint any broader without actually commanding her to seduce him. Sa knew the woman had enough appetite for two men. Of late, she had been insatiable. She should be able to keep Wintrow busy for as long as it took Kennit to deal with this problem. She seemed to be thinking deeply as they approached Wintrow. He was speaking softly to the ship.
'Althea practically grew up on this deck. She expected you to be hers. If the choice had been hers, she would never have left you. You will see. When she stands on this deck again, your feelings for her will return. Vivacia, she will bring you back to yourself, and I know you will welcome her. Once she is here, you will have to let go the anger you feel over something she was forced to do.' He smiled reassuringly. 'You will be yourself again.'
Bolt's arms were crossed on her breast. All around her, the water seethed with serpents. 'I am not angry, Wintrow. I am bored. Bored with your whole recitation. I have often heard of priests, that they will argue until a man agrees with them simply to still their tongues. So I will ask you this. If I pretend to feel something for her, will you shut up and go away?'
For an instant, Wintrow bowed his head. Kennit thought she had defeated him. Then he lifted it to stare at the advancing Paragon. 'No,' he said in a low voice. 'I won't go away. I'm staying right here, beside you. When she comes aboard, there should be someone here to explain to her what has happened to you.'
This would never do. He made a swift decision. Kennit cleared his throat. 'Actually, Wintrow, I have a small task for you first. Take Etta with you. As soon as we are anchored, I wish you to take the ship's boat and row over to the Marietta. Some of Sorcor's men are a bit hotheaded, and of late they have grown used to having their own way. Tell Sorcor, diplomatically of course, that I alone will be in charge of taking this ship. I wish him to hold the Marietta well back; it would suit me best if his crew did not even crowd the railings. This ship comes to us under a truce flag; I don't wish them to feel outnumbered and threatened. That could lead to violence where none is needed.'
'Sir, could not you send…' Wintrow began pleadingly.
Kennit patted Etta's hand heavily. She took the hint.
'Don't whine, Wintrow,' she rebuked him. 'It will do you no good to remain here and let Bolt torment you. She toys with you like a cat with a mouse, and you have not the sense to remove yourself. So Kennit is doing it for you. Come. You have a gift for smooth words, and will be able to pass this order on to Sorcor in such a way that he does not feel slighted.'
Kennit listened in admiration. She was so adept at making Wintrow seem both foolish and selfish for trying to oppose him. It must be a female talent.
There had been a time when his mother had spoken to him like that, letting the edge of impatience show to convince him of his error. He thrust the memory from him. The sooner Paragon was gone, the better. Not for years had so many buried recollections stirred so uncomfortably in him.
Wintrow glanced uncertainly from one to the other. 'But I had hoped to be there when Kennit met-'
'It would look as if we flaunted you as hostage. I wish them to see you are a willing member of my crew, unconstrained. Unless…' Kennit paused, and then gave Wintrow an odd look. 'Did you wish to leave the ship? Are you hoping to go with them? For if that is your desire, you but have to speak it. They could take you back to Bingtown, or your monastery…'
'No.' Even Etta looked surprised at how swiftly Wintrow replied. 'My place is here. I know that now. I have no desire to leave. Sir, I would remain at your side, and be witness to the creation of the Pirate Isles as a recognized kingdom. I feel-I feel this is where Sa intended me to be.' He looked down at the deck silently for an instant. Then he met Kennit's serious gaze again. 'I'll go to Sorcor, sir. Right now?'
'Yes. I'd like him to hold off where he is. Be sure he is clear on that. No matter what he sees, he is to let me resolve it.'
