misguided ship now? Could they ever be as they were before, one heart, one spirit, moving over the sea before the wind?
Paragon ranted on, threats to the pirate and pleas that they give him the prisoner, he would wring the truth out of him, yes, he'd make him speak true of that bastard Kennit. Althea scarcely heard him. Brashen took her elbow. 'You look as if you will faint,' he said in a low voice. 'Can you walk away? Keep your dignity in front of the crew?'
His words were her final undoing. She wrenched free of him. 'Don't touch me,' she snarled low. Dignity, she cautioned herself, dignity, but it was all she could do to keep from shrieking at him like a fishwife. He stepped back from her, appalled, and she saw the briefest flash of anger deep in his dark eyes. She drew herself up, fighting for control.
Fighting, she suddenly knew, to separate her emotions from Paragon's.
She turned back toward the prisoner and the figurehead, a fraction of an instant too late. Lavoy had hauled the pirate to his feet, and was holding him against the railing. The threats were twin: that Lavoy would simply push him overboard, bound as he was, or that the mate would strike him. The man's face was reddened on one cheek; there had been at least one blow. Amber had hold of Lavoy's drawn-back arm. She suddenly looked surprisingly tall. For a woman so willowy to have the strength to hold Lavoy's arm back surprised Althea. Amber's expression seemed to have turned Lavoy to stone. The look on Lavoy's face was not fear; whatever he saw in Amber's eyes moved him beyond fear. Too late, Althea saw the real threat.
Paragon had twisted to his full limit. His hand reached, groping blindly.
'No!' Althea cried, but the big wooden fingers had found the prisoner. Paragon plucked him easily from Lavoy's grip. The pirate screamed and Amber's shout of, 'Oh, Paragon, no, no, no!' cut through his cries.
Paragon turned away from them, clenching the pirate in his hands before him. He hunched his shoulders over the stolen prisoner like a child devouring a stolen sweetmeat. He was fiercely muttering something to the hapless man as he shook him back and forth like a rag doll, but all Althea could hear was Amber's pleading, 'Paragon. Please, Paragon.'
'Ship! Return that man to the deck at once!' Brashen roared. The snap of ultimate command was in his voice but Paragon did not even flinch. Althea found herself clutching the railing in both hands as she leaned forward desperately. 'No!' she begged the ship, but if the figurehead heard her, he gave no sign. Near her, Lavoy watched, his teeth white in a gritted grimace, his eyes strangely avid. Paragon darted his face down close to the man he clutched tight in both hands. For one horrific instant, Althea feared he would bite his head off. Instead, he froze as if listening intently. Then, 'No!' he shrieked. 'Kennit never said that! He never said he always dreamed of having his own liveship. You lie! You lie!' He shook the man back and forth. Althea heard the snapping of bones. The man screamed, and Paragon suddenly flung him away. His body cartwheeled in the bright sunlight, then bit into the flashing sea abruptly. There was a slap of flesh against water. Then he was gone. The chains on his ankles pulled what was left of him down.
Althea stared dully at the spot where he had vanished. He had done it. Paragon had killed again.
'Oh, ship,' Brashen groaned deep beside her.
Paragon swiveled his head to stare at them blindly. He curled his fists and held them in toward his chest as if that would hide his deed. His voice was that of a frightened and defiant boy as he declared, 'I made him tell. Divvytown. We'll find Kennit in Divvytown. He always liked Divvytown.' He scowled blindly at the silence of the folk gathered on the foredeck. 'Well, that was what you wanted, wasn't it? To find out where Kennit was? That's all I did. I made him talk.'
'That you did, laddie,' Lavoy observed gruffly. Even he seemed daunted by Paragon's action. He shook his head slowly. In a quiet voice, pitched only for the humans, he added, 'I didn't believe he'd do it.'
'Yes, you did,' Amber contradicted him flatly. She stared at Lavoy with eyes that seared. 'That was why you put the man within Paragon's reach. So he could take him. Because you wanted him dead, like the other prisoners.' Amber turned her head suddenly, to stare at the Tattooed ones of the crew who stood silently watching. 'You were in on it. You knew what he would do, but you did nothing. That's what he's brought out in you. The worst of what slavery could have done to you.' Her glance snapped back to the mate. 'You're a monster, Lavoy. Not just for what you did to that man, but for what you've wakened in the ship. You're trying to make him a brute like yourself.'
With a jerk of his head, Paragon turned his maimed face away from Amber's words. 'So you don't like me anymore. Well, I don't care. If I have to be weak so you can like me, then I don't need you to like me. So there.' For him to revert to such childishness immediately after he had brutally killed a man paralyzed Althea with horror. What was this ship?
Amber didn't reply with words. Instead, she sank slowly down until her brow rested on her hands as they gripped the railing. Althea did not know if she mourned or prayed. She clung tight to the wizardwood as if she could pour herself into it.
'I did nothing!' Lavoy protested. His words sounded cowardly to Althea. He looked at his Tattooed crew as he spoke. 'Everyone saw what happened.
None of it was my doing. The ship took it into his own hands, in more ways than one.'
'Shut up!' Brashen ordered all of them. 'Just shut up.' He paced a quick turn on the deck. His eyes traveled over the silently gathered crew on the foredeck. His eyes seemed to linger on Clef. The white-faced boy had both his hands clasped over his mouth. His eyes were bright with tears.
When Brashen spoke again, his voice was devoid of any emotion. 'We'll be making for Divvytown, with all speed. The performance of this crew during the attack was abysmal. There will be additional drill, for officers as well as crew. I will have each man knowing his place and duty, and acting promptly on that knowledge.' He let his eyes rove over them again. He looked older and wearier than Althea had ever seen him. He turned back to the figurehead.
'Paragon, your punishment for disobeying my orders is isolation. No one is to speak to the ship without my leave. No one!' he repeated as Amber took a breath to protest. 'No one is even to be on this foredeck unless duty demands it. Now clear it, all of you, and get back to your tasks. Now.'
Brashen stood silent on the foredeck as his crew silently ebbed away, back to deck or bunk as their watches commanded. Althea, too, walked away from him. Right now, she did not know him at all. How could he have let all that happen? Didn't he see what Lavoy was, what he was doing to the ship?
BRASHEN HURT. IT WASN'T JUST THE LONG GASH DOWN HIS RIBS, THOUGH SA knew that it burned and stung. His jaws, his back and his gut ached with tension. Even his face hurt, but he could not remember how to relax those muscles. Althea had looked at him with absolute loathing; he could not fathom why. His liveship, his pride, his Paragon had killed with a bestial savagery that sickened him; he had not thought the ship capable of such a thing. He was almost certain now that Lavoy was lining up not just men, but the ship himself to support the mate in a mutiny. Amber was right, though he wished she had not spoken it aloud. For reasons he did not completely grasp, Lavoy had seen to it that all their prisoners died. It was overwhelming to him. Yet he must deal with all that, and never show, not even by the twitch of a facial muscle., that it bothered him. He was the captain. This was the price. Just when he most wanted to confront Lavoy, or take Althea in his arms, or demand that Paragon explain to him what had just happened, instead he had to square his shoulders and stand straight. Keep his dignity. For the sake of his crew and his command, he must feel nothing.
He stood on the foredeck and watched them all obey him. Lavoy went with a resentful, backward glance. Althea moved awkwardly, her spirit broken. He hoped the other women would have the sense to give her some privacy for a time. Amber was the last to leave the foredeck. She paused beside him, as if she would speak. He met her eyes and silently shook his head. Paragon must not think that anyone opposed Brashen's order to isolate him. He must feel the disapproval was universal. As soon as Amber was off the deck, Brashen followed her. He spoke no parting word to the ship. He wondered if Paragon even noticed it.
PARAGON SURREPTITIOUSLY WIPED HIS HANDS AGAIN DOWN THE BOW. BLOOD was such clinging stuff. So clinging, and so rich with memories. He fought against absorbing the man he had killed, but in the end, the blood had its way. It soaked into his wizardwood hands, rich, red and fraught with emotions. Terror and pain were the strongest. Well, how had the man expected to die, once he took up piracy? He'd brought it on himself. It was not Paragon's fault. The man should have talked when Lavoy told him to. Then Lavoy would have killed him
