"That thing got washed aboard during a storm," La Cava said when he noticed Kit eyeing the creature. "Wrapped itself around the helm. Those tentacles and spines shoot poison, and I had to fight it to regain control of the wheel. After I killed it, I had Lurie preserve the thing. It's not often I come that close to losing a fight," he said, winking at Kit.
La Cava, too, had dressed handsomely in a fitted short jacket and dark pants, with a red sash tied at his waist and a red and white striped scarf knotted around his neck. With a small bow, he invited Kitiara and Patric to be seated across from each other at a wooden table set with china and illuminated by candles. La Cava seated himself at the head of the table. The three of them smiled at each other a little awkwardly in this unfamiliar situation.
Any tension was relieved by Figgis, the ship's cook, who made a show of carrying in a tray of cooked pigeon, birds Kit had seen earlier in the day, caged among some of the other food supplies. The resourceful Figgis was followed by a small cabin boy who could barely balance a tray heavy with pieces of fish, marinated kelp, nut pudding, and dried fruit.
Ample portions of wine from the captain's private stock loosened them up as the evening wore on. La Cava was in good temper, but as usual spoke little, always choosing his words judiciously. Patric had warmed to the special occasion and ensured there were no gaps in the conversation. He talked expansively, telling story after story in a way that reminded Kit of the week they had spent together in Solace. Patric could be a bit of a bore, Kit acknowledged to herself, but he certainly was the most handsome man she had ever known—after Gregor, that is. She grinned at him beguilingly over the table.
"So my mother says . . ." It was past midnight, and Patric was in the middle of a long tale about how his father had tricked his mother into marrying him. La Cava was listening politely, though he no doubt had heard this one more than once before. Kit could tell that the captain was growing tired.
" 'I can't marry you, Alwith, I am betrothed to another.' 'Well,' says my father, 'either I will kill your betrothed or myself. I won't be unhappy. You may choose. Him or me.'
"Needless to say, it seemed an impossible choice. Both were handsome, both were from good families, and both would do anything to win her, for she was the fairest of the sisters in her family and stood to gain a fortune when her father died.
"Alwith counted on the fact that Maryn, my mother, would speak to her favorite—a kender—and ask his advice. Now, this kender, name of Sampler, not only made maps for my mother's family, but also acted as soothsayer for Ravetch, my father's chief rival. Sampler was as honest as most kender and actually believed he had a modest gift for predicting the future. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. It doesn't matter to what happened.
"When my mother told Sampler about my father's threat to kill either himself or Ravetch, Sampler did what any normal kender would do, he ran and told Ravetch. Kender have certain talents, but keeping a secret isn't one of them. Now Ravetch—though equal in looks and breeding—was not as brave as my father, nor as smart. Immediately he grew frightened and asked Sampler to read his palm. Sampler, no doubt caught up in the drama of the situation, predicted that someone was bound to die, but which of the suitors it would be, he couldn't be sure. He would know afterward, but not necessarily beforehand.
"Ravetch was willing to do anything to marry my mother, except die. And he wasn't going to take any chances. So he disappeared, leaving a note saying he had been called away on a hobgoblin-hunting expedition far to the north. The expedition took nine months. When he returned, Maryn and Alwith were already married. And, with only minor awkwardness, Ravetch switched his attentions to one of Maryn's sisters."
"What happened to Sampler?" asked Kitiara.
"Oh, he's still around," answered Patric merrily. "Still my mother's friend, but every bit my father's too. They say that shortly after telling Ravetch's fortune, Sampler turned up with an extraordinary amount of gold coin in his purse one day, which he of course promptly spent. Does the usual kender nonsense for a living, and still tells a fortune now and then. He's quite a character. Famous in Gwynned."
Kitiara and La Cava laughed appreciatively. Then the captain stretched to get up, signaling that it was time to go. He bid them good night, bending over to brush the back of Kitiara's hand with his lips. Kit flushed with—what? Pleasure? Embarrassment? She slipped her arm through Patric's as they left the cabin.
Neither of them felt like ending the evening right away. They went up on deck and gazed out over the black water coated with phosphorescence, shimmering in the moonlight. The night was serene, the only sounds made by the ship cutting through the waves. Patric disengaged himself from Kitiara and walked far forward, his hands clasped behind his back. Kit would have lost sight of him but Beck's sword caught the moonlight, glittering. A wave of frustration swept over Kit. What was the matter with Patric that he was so moody nowadays? Kit felt her ardor cool. And as it did, she cast aside the role she had been trying to play, that of Patric's fiancée. She
