her father think of that? She decided that he would approve of her trying to recover the family ship, but not on her choice of rescue vessel. He had always said that Paragon was not only mad, but also a bad-luck ship. When she was a girl, he had forbidden her to have anything to do with him.
She turned aside suddenly and walked forward as if she could walk away from her uneasiness. It was a pleasant evening, she told herself, and the ship had been unusually stable and sailing well for the past two days. Lavoy, the first mate, had recently embarked on a storm of discipline and cleanliness, but that was not unusual. Brashen as captain had told him to break down the restraint between the sailors they had hired and those who had been smuggled aboard to escape from slavery. Any mate knew that the way to unite a crew was to keep them all on the ragged edge for a few days.
The crew as a whole could do with a bit more discipline and a lot more cleanliness. In addition to sharpening up their sailing skills, the crew had to learn to fight. And, she added morosely, not just to defend their ship, but to master the skills of attacking another vessel. Suddenly it all seemed too much. How could they hope to locate the Vivacia, let alone win her back, with such a patchwork crew and an unpredictable vessel?
'Good evening, Althea,' Paragon greeted her. Without even thinking about it, she had come to the foredeck near the figurehead. Paragon turned his maimed face toward her as if he could see her.
'Good evening to you, Paragon,' she returned. She tried to put a pleasant note in her voice, but the ship knew her too well.
'So. Which of our troubles torments you most this evening?'
Althea surrendered. 'They all nip at my heels like a pack of yapping feists, ship. In truth, I don't know which to worry about first.'
The figurehead gave a snort of disdain. 'Then kick them away as if they were truly a pack of curs and fix your gaze instead on our destiny.' He swiveled his bearded face away from her, to stare sightlessly toward the horizon. 'Kennit,' he said in a low and fateful voice. 'We go to face down the pirate, and take back from him all that is rightfully ours. Let nothing stand between us and that end.'
Althea was stunned into silence. She had never heard the ship speak so. Initially, he had been reluctant even to venture out on the water again. He had spent so many years as a beached and blinded derelict that he had balked at the idea of sailing, let alone setting out on a rescue mission. Now he spoke as if he not only accepted the idea, but relished the chance for vengeance against the man who had seized Vivacia. He crossed his muscular arms on his broad chest. His hands were knotted into fists. Had he truly made her cause his own?
'Don't think of the obstacles that lie between now and the moment when we confront him.' The ship spoke in a low, soft voice. 'Long or short, if you worry about every step of a journey, you will divide it endlessly into pieces, any one of which may defeat you. Look only to the end.'
'I think that we will succeed only if we prepare ourselves,' Althea objected.
Paragon shook his head. 'Teach yourself to believe you will succeed. If you say, when we find Kennit we must be good fighters, then you have put it off until then. Be good fighters now. Be now what you must be to succeed at the end of your journey, and when the end comes, you will find it is just another beginning.'
Althea sighed. 'Now you sound like Amber,' she complained.
'No.' He contradicted her flatly. 'Now I sound like myself. The self I put aside and hid, the self I intended to be again someday, when I was ready. I have stopped intending. I am, now.'
Wordlessly, Althea shook her head to herself. It had been easier to deal with Paragon when he was sulky. She loved him, but it was not like her bond with Vivacia. Being with Paragon was often like caring for a beloved but ill-mannered and difficult child. Sometimes it was simply too much trouble to deal with him. Even now, when he seemed to have allied himself with her, his intensity could be frightening. An uncomfortable silence fell.
She pushed such thoughts aside and tried to relax into the gentle movement of the ship and the soothing night sounds. The peace didn't last long.
'You can say you told me so if you wish.' Amber's voice behind her was weary and bitter.
Althea waited for the ship's carpenter to join her at the railing before she hazarded her guess. 'You spoke to the captain about Lavoy and Clef?'
'I did.' Amber drew a kerchief from her pocket and wiped her brow. 'It did me no good. Brashen said only that Lavoy is the mate, Clef is the ship's boy, and that he would not interfere. I don't understand it.'
A slight smile curved Althea's mouth. 'Stop thinking of him as Brashen. If Brashen were on the street and saw Lavoy knock a young boy down, he'd jump right in. But we're not on the street. We're on a ship and he's the captain. He can't stand between the first mate and the crew. If he did it even once, the whole crew would lose respect for Lavoy. They'd have an endless string of complaints about him, and every one of them would wind up at the captain's feet. He'd be so busy nursemaiding, he'd have no time to be captain. I'll wager that Brashen does not admire Lavoy's action any more than you do. But the captain knows that ship's discipline must come before a few bruises to a boy's pride.'
'How far will he let Lavoy go?' Amber growled.
'That's the captain's concern, not mine,' Althea replied. With a wry smile she added, 'I'm just the second mate, you know.' As Amber wiped her brow again and then the back of her neck, Althea asked, 'Are you well?'
'No,' Amber replied succinctly. She did not look at Althea, but Althea stared frankly at the carpenter's profile. Even in the fading light, her skin looked papery and taut, making her features sharper. Amber's coloring was always so odd that Althea could tell little from it, but tonight it reminded her of aging parchment. She had bound her light brown hair back and covered it with a kerchief.
Althea let the silence stretch out between them, until Amber added reluctantly, 'But neither am I sick. I suffer a malady from time to time. Fever and weariness are all it brings. I shall be fine.' At Althea's horrified look, Amber hastily added, 'It is not a spreading disease. It will affect only me.'
'Nevertheless, you should tell the captain of your problem. And probably confine yourself to our quarters until it passes.'
They both startled when Paragon added quietly, 'Even the rumor of fever and plague aboard a ship can cause a crew to become jittery.'
'I can keep it to myself,' Amber assured her. 'I doubt that any beside you and Jek will notice my illness. Jek has seen it before; it will not bother her.' She turned suddenly to face Althea and demanded, 'How about you? Do you fear to sleep near me?'
Althea met her gaze through the gathering darkness. 'I think I will take your word that there is nothing to fear. But you should still tell the captain. He may be able to arrange your duties so that you have more time to rest.' She did not add that he probably would find ways to isolate Amber to keep her illness secret.
'The captain?' A small smile bent Amber's lips. 'You truly think of him that way all the time?'
'It is who he is,' Althea replied stiffly. At night, in her narrow bunk, she certainly didn't think of Brashen as the captain. By day, she had to. She wouldn't tell Amber just how hard it was for her to keep that distinction clear. Talking about it wouldn't make it any easier. It was better kept to herself. She suspected uncomfortably that Paragon knew her true feelings for Brashen. She waited for him to say something horrible and revealing, but the figurehead kept silent.
'It is part of who he is,' Amber agreed easily. 'In some ways, it is his best part. I think he has lived many years, planning and dreaming about how he would be if he were the captain. I think he has suffered under poor captains, and learned well under good ones, and he brings all that to what he does now. He is more fortunate than he knows, to be able to live his dream. So few men do.'
'So few men do what?' Jek demanded as she strolled up and joined them. She grinned at Althea and gave Amber an affectionate nudge. She leaned on the railing, picking her teeth. Althea stared up at her enviously. Jek radiated vitality and health. The deckhand was long-boned, well-muscled and completely unself-conscious about her body. She did not bind her breasts at all, nor worry that her sailor's trousers reached no farther than her knee. Her long blonde braid was tattering to straw from the wind and salt water, but she cared not at all. She is, Althea thought uneasily, what I pretend to be: a woman who does not let her sex deter her from living as she pleases. It wasn't fair. Jek had grown up in the Six Duchies, and claimed this equality as her birthright. Consequently, men usually ceded it to her. Althea still sometimes felt she needed someone's permission simply to be herself. Men seemed to sense that in her. Nothing came easily. She felt the struggle was as constant as her breathing.
Jek leaned over the railing. 'Good evening to you, Paragon!' Over her shoulder, she asked Amber, 'Can I borrow a fine needle from you? I've some mending to do, and I can't find mine anywhere.'
