my rigging to the trees. There they built a platform and hoisted the treasure up to it. He thought it would be safe forever.'
Brashen made a low sound. There was fury in his voice as he asked, 'Did he blind you before or after he selected this place?'
The figurehead didn't flinch from the question. 'After,' he said quietly. 'He never trusted me. With reason. I lost count of how many times I tried to kill him. He blinded me so that I could never find my way back without him.' He turned back to the awestruck crew on his deck and dropped Amber a slow wink. 'He never thought that anyone might recarve me. Neither did I, back then. Nevertheless, here I am. Sole survivor of that bloody crew. It's mine now. And hence, yours.' A stunned silence followed his words. No one spoke or moved.
The figurehead raised his eyebrows questioningly. 'No one wants to reclaim it for us?' he asked wryly.
GETTING THEIR FIRST LOOK AT IT WAS THE EASY PART. RIGGING CATWALKS AND hoists through the trees to transport the stuff back to Paragon's deck was the time-consuming part. Despite the backbreaking labor, no one complained. 'As for Clef, you would think Paragon had planned this specifically to get him out of his lessons,' Brashen pointed out. As the ship's nimblest rigging monkey, the boy had been freed from his lessons for this task.
'If he grins any wider, the top half of his head may come off,' Althea agreed. She craned her neck to see Clef. A heavy sack bounced on his back as he made his way back to the ship. Neither snakes nor swarming insects had dampened the boy's enthusiasm for his rope-walking trips back and forth between ship and platform. 'I wish he were a bit more cautious,' she worried. She, Brashen and several crewmen stood on a layered platform of logs. The vines had reinforced the old structure with their growing strength through the years, actually incorporating it into their system of tendrils and air roots. The chests and barrels that had held Igrot's hoard had not fared as well. A good part of the day's work had been repacking the spilled treasure into emptied food crates and casks. The variety of it astounded them. They had found Jamaillian coins and worked silver among the loot, a sure sign that Igrot had squirreled more than just the Rain Wild hoard here. Some of his booty had not survived. There were the long- moldered remains of tapestries and rugs, and heaps of iron rings atop the rotted leather that had once structured the battle shirts. What had survived far outweighed what had perished. Brashen had seen jeweled cups, amazing swords that still gleamed sharp when drawn from their filigreed scabbards, necklaces and crowns, statues and vases, game boards of ivory and marble with gleaming crystal playing pieces and other items he could not even identify. There were humbler items as well, from serving trays and delicate teacups to carved hair combs and jeweled pins. Among the Rain Wild goods was a set of delicately carved dragons with flakes of jewels for scales and a family of dolls with scaled faces. These last items Brashen was packing carefully into the onion basket from Paragon's galley.
'I think these are musical instruments, or what is left of them,' Althea theorized.
He turned, stretching his back, to see what she was doing. She knelt, removing items from a big chest that had split its seams. She lifted chained crystals that tinkled and rang sweetly against one another as she freed them from their tomb and smiled as she turned to display them. She had forgotten that her hair was weighted with a net of jeweled chains. The motion caught glittering sunlight in her hair. She dazzled him. His heart swelled.
'Brashen?' she complained a moment later. He realized he was still staring at her. Without a word, he rose and went to her. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her, careless of the tolerant grins of two sailors who were scooping scattered coins into heavy canvas bags. He held her in his arms, still half-amazed that he could do this. He swept her closer. 'Don't ever go away from me,' he said thickly into her hair.
She turned her head up to grin at him. 'Why would I leave a rich man like you?' she teased. She put her hands on his chest and pushed gently free of him.
'I knew you were after my fortune,' he replied, letting her go. He held back a sigh. She always wanted to be clear of him before he was ready to let her go. It was her independent nature, he supposed. He refused to worry that she was wearying of him. Yet she had not seemed overly upset when he had been unable to arrange their wedding at the Traders' Concourse. Perhaps she did not wish to be bound to him quite that permanently. Then he chided himself for his lingering doubts and discontent. Althea was still beside him. That was more than he'd ever had in his life and it was worth more to him than this incomprehensible wealth of treasure.
He looked around the platform they stood on, then lifted his eyes to the similar structures in two adjacent trees. 'This booty will fill Paragon's hold. Igrot brought him here heavy with treasure, and so he will be when we leave. I try to imagine how this will change things for us, and I cannot. I get caught up in the wonder of the individual pieces.'
Althea nodded. 'I cannot relate it to myself. I think mostly of how it will affect others. My family. I can help Mother restore our home. Keffria need not worry so about the family finances.'
Brashen grinned. 'My plans are mostly for Paragon. New windows. New rigging. The services of a good sailmaker. Then, something for us. Let's make a trip south to the Spice Isles, a slow journey, exploring, with no schedules and no need to turn a profit. I want to revisit the ports we haven't seen since your father was master on Vivacia.' He watched her face carefully as he added, 'Maybe we could rendezvous with Wintrow and Vivacia. See how they're getting along.'
He watched her consider it. For Althea, a visit to the southernmost trade isles would be a return to the ports of her childhood travels. Maybe there she could lose some of the constant regret that overshadowed her. And perhaps seeing Wintrow and Vivacia could lay some ghosts to rest. If she saw her ship was content and in good hands, would it lift the burden from her heart? He refused to fear such an encounter. Much as it hurt him to admit, if he could not lift her melancholy soon, it might be better to let her go. It was not that she did not smile and laugh. She did. But always, her smiles and laughter faded too soon into a silence that excluded him.
'I'd like that,' she conceded, recalling him to himself. 'If Paragon could be persuaded. We could look for Tintaglia's serpents at the same time.'
'Good,' he said with false heartiness. 'That's what we'll do then.' He drew a deep breath and lifted his eyes. The brief spring day was closing. Through the interlacing treetops, he could glimpse storm clouds. Winter might make a brief return tonight. 'Best get us all back to the ship for the night,' he decided. 'It gets dark fast, and I see no sense in risking man or treasure to move it tonight.'
Althea nodded. 'I'll want to see how they've stowed it anyway.' She turned to the others. 'Last load, men. Tomorrow is soon enough to finish this.'
SHE CAME OUT ON DECK INTO THE DARKNESS, BEARING A LANTERN. PARAGON did not turn to see who it was. He recognized Amber's light barefoot tread. She often came to him by night. They had had many night conversations. They had also shared many times without talk, content to let the sounds of the night birds and the river running remain undisturbed. Usually, her hands on his railing radiated peace to him. Tonight she hung the lantern on a hook, and set something down on his deck before she leaned on the railing. 'It's a lovely night, isn't it?'
'It is. But it won't be for long, for you. That lantern will attract every insect that flies. They are thickest immediately before a storm. Linger long and you'll be bitten all over.'
'I just need it for a short time.' She drew a breath, and he sensed an unusual excitement running through her. She sounded almost nervous. 'Paragon, earlier you offered to share your treasure with us. I've found something among it, something I desperately long to possess.'
He looked back at her. She was in her night robe, a long loose garment that reached to her bare feet. Her uneven hair fell loose to her shoulders. Her serpent scalds still showed, dead white against her golden skin. Time, perhaps, would erase those scars, or so he liked to think. In the lantern light, her eyes sparkled. He found himself returning her smile. 'So what is this treasure you must possess? Gold? Silver? Ancient Elderling jewelry?'
'This.' She stooped to a rough burlap sack at her feet, opened the mouth of it and reached within. From it, she pulled a carved wooden circlet. She handled it almost reverently as she turned it in her hands. Then, daringly, she crowned herself with it and then lifted her gaze to his. 'Reach into your dragon memories, if you can. For me. Do you recall this?'
He looked at her silently and she returned his gaze. She waited. The crown was decorated with the heads of birds. No. Chickens. He quirked one eyebrow at her. Regretfully, she took off the crown and held it out to him. He took it carefully in his hands. Wood. Carved wood. He shook his head over it. Gold and silver, jewels and art. He had
