by Robin Hobb
“Ah, yes. Chaining up one's odder relatives and keeping them confined to a garret or cellar or other out of the way place has long been how Bingtown dealt with madness or deformity. ” He gave a bitter laugh. “Consider the Rain Wild Traders, for example. ”
“Who?”
“Exactly. Who? No one hears of them, no one knows of them, no one considers our ancient convenants with them. Least of all me or you. Pray, go on. After you buy me and leave me intact and don't sail me, what did you have in mind?”
“Oh, Paragon. ” She sounded completely miserable now. “If it were up to me-if I could dream as a child does and believe those dreams could come true-I would say, then, I would have artisans come here, to right you and build a cradle to support you upright. And I would come and live aboard you. On the cliffs above you, I would plant a garden of scent and color, a bird-and-butterfly garden, with trailing vines to hang all the way down to the beach and bloom sweetly. And around you I would sculpt stone and create tidepools and populate them with sea stars and sea anemones and those little scarlet crabs. ” As she raved on of this strange vision, her voice grew more and more impassioned. “I would live inside you and work inside you and in the evening I would dine on the deck and we would share our day. And if I dared to dream larger than that, why, then I would dream that someday I could obtain wizardwood and work it wisely enough to restore your eyes and your sight. In the mornings we would look out to the sun rising over the sea, and in the evenings we would look up to it setting over our cliff garden. I would say to the world, do what you will, for I am done with you. Destroy yourself or prosper, it is all one to me, as long as you leave us alone. And we would be happy, the two of us. ”
For a time he was at a loss to say anything. The childish fantasy caught him up and wrapped around him and suddenly he was not the ship but a boy who would have run in and out of such a place, pockets full of shiny stones and odd shells, gulls' feathers and . . .
“You are not my family, and you can never be my family. ” He dropped the words on the dream like a heavy shoe on a butterfly.
“I know that,” she said quietly. “I said it was but a dream. It is what I long to do, but in truth, I do not know how long I can remain in Bingtown or with you. But Paragon, it is the only hope I have of saving you. If I go to the Ludlucks, myself, and say that you have said you could be content in such a way, perhaps they might take the lesser offer from me, for the sake of the bond. . . . ” Her voice wisped away as he crossed his arms over the star scar on his broad chest.
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“Save me from what?” he asked her disdainfully. “Such a nursery tale as you can spin, Amber. I confess, it is a charming image. But I am a ship. I was created to be sailed. Do you think I choose to lie here on this beach, idle, and near mad with that idleness? No. If my family chooses to sell me into slavery, let it at least be a familiar slavery. I have no desire to be your playhouse. ” Especially not as she had just admitted that she would eventually leave him, that her friendship with him was only because something else kept her in Bingtown. Sooner or later, she would leave him, just as all the others had. Sooner or later, all humans abandoned him.
“You had best go back to Davad Restart and withdraw your offer,” he advised her when the silence had grown very long.
“No. ”
“If you buy me and keep me here, I will hate you forever, and I will bring you ill luck such as you cannot even imagine. ”
Her voice was calm. “I don't believe in luck, Paragon. I believe in fate, and I believe my fate has more terrible and heart-rending facets to it than even you can imagine. You, I know, are one of them. So, for the sake of the child who rants and threatens from within the wooden bones of a ship, I will buy you and keep you safe. Or as safe as fate will allow me. ” There was no fear in her voice. Only an odd tenderness as she reached up to set her palm flat to his planking.
“Just wrap it up,” he told her brusquely. “It will heal. ”
Etta shook her head. Her voice was very soft as she told him, “Kennit, it is not healing. ” She set her hand gently to the flesh above his injury. “Your skin is hot and tender. I see you wince at every touch. These fluids that drain do not look to me like the liquids of healing but the-”
“Shut up,” he ordered her. “I'm a strong man, not some sniveling whore in your care. I will heal, and all will be well once more. Wrap it for me, or do not, I scarcely care. I can bandage it myself, or Sorcor can. I have no time to sit here and listen to you wish bad luck on me. ” A sudden pain, sharp as any toothache, rushed up his leg. He gasped before he could stop himself, then gripped the edges of his bunk hard to keep from screaming.
“Kennit. You know what needs to be done. ” She was pleading with him.
He had to wait until he had breath to speak. “What needs to be done is feed you to a serpent so I can have a measure of peace in my life again. Go, get out of here, and send Sorcor to me. There are plans to be made, and I don't have time for your fretting. ”
She gathered up the sodden bandaging into a basket and left the room without another word. Good. Kennit reached for the sturdy crutch that leaned against his bunk. He had had Sorcor fashion it for him. He hated the thing, and when the deck pitched at all, it was virtually useless. But with it, on a calm day at anchor like today, he could get from his bunk to his chart table. He hopped there, in short painful hops that seared his stump with every jolt. He was sweating by the time he reached the table. He leaned forward over his charts, resting his weight on the edge of the table.
There was a tap at the door.
“Sorcor? Come in. ”
The mate stuck his head around the edge of the door. His eyes were anxious. But at the sight of his captain standing at his chart table, he beamed like a child offered sweets. He ventured into the room. Kennit noted he had yet another new vest, one with even more embroidery. “That healer did you some good, then,” he greeted Kennit as he came in the door. “I thought he might. Those other two, I didn't think much of them. If you're going to have someone work on you, get an old man, someone who's been around a bit and . . . ”
“Shut up, Sorcor,” Kennit said pleasantly. “He was no more useful than the other two. The custom in Bull Creek seems to be that if you cannot cure an injury, you create a different one to distract your victim from your incompetency. Why, I asked him, did he think he could heal a new slice to my leg if he could not cure the one I had? He had no answer to that. ” Kennit shrugged elaborately. “I am tired of these backwater healers. Like as not, I shall heal just as fast without their leeches and potions. ”
The smile faded from Sorcor's face as he came slowly into the captain's room. “Like as not,” he agreed dully.
“This last one as much as said so himself,” Kennit asserted.
“Only because you threatened him until he agreed with you,” Etta pointed out bitterly from the doorway. “Sorcor, stand up to him. Tell him he must let them cut the leg higher, above the foulness. He will listen to you, he respects you. ”
“Etta. Get out. ”
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“I have nowhere to go. ”
“Go buy something in town. Sorcor, give her some money. ”
“I don't need money. All in Bull Creek know I am your woman, if I so much as look at anything, they push it into my arms and beg me to take it. But there is nothing I truly want, anywhere, save that you should get better. ”
Kennit sighed heavily. “Sorcor. Please shut the door. With the woman on the other side of it. ”
“No, I promise, please Kennit, I'll be quiet. Let me stay. You talk to him, then, Sorcor, reason with him, he'll listen to you. . . . ”
She kept it up like a whining dog and all the while Sorcor was quite gently pushing her out of the room and latching the door behind her. Kennit would not have been so gentle if he'd been able to deal with her himself. That, of course, was the whole problem. She saw hi
m as weak, now, and would try to get her will in everything. Ever since she'd tortured his prisoners, he'd suspected she enjoyed the idea of cutting up helpless men. He wondered if there were some way he could leave her in Bull Creek.
“And how are things in town?” Kennit asked Sorcor pleasantly as if he had just entered.
Sorcor just stared at him for a moment. Then he seemed to decide to humor Kennit. “Couldn't be better. Unless you'd come ashore and talk to the merchants yourself. They've all but begged that you come and be their guest. I already told you once. They saw our Raven flag coming into the harbor and turned out the whole town for us. Little boys were shouting your name from the docks, 'Captain Kennit, Captain Kennit. ' I heard one tell another that when it came to pirates, you were better than Igrot the Terrible. ”
Kennit startled, then made a sour face. “I knew Igrot when I was a lad. His reputation exaggerates him,” he said quietly.
“Still, that's something, when folk compare you to the man that burned twenty towns and-”
“Enough of my fame,” Kennit cut him off. “What of our business?”
“They've re-supplied us handsomely, and the Sicerna is already hove down for repair. ” The burly pirate shook his head. “There's a lot of rot in her hull. I'm surprised the Satrap would entrust a gift's delivery to a rotten tub like that. ”
“I doubt he inspected her hull,” Kennit suggested drily. “And they welcomed the new population we brought them?”
“With open arms. Last slave raid carried off the best smith in town. We've brought them two new ones. And the musicians and such are all the talk of the place. Three times now they acted out The Liberation of the Sicerna. Got a right handsome lad being you, and a great worm made of paper and silk and barrel hoops that comes right up. . . . ” Sorcor's voice died away abruptly. “It's a real fancy show, sir. I don't think there's anyone in town who hasn't seen it. ”
“Well. I am glad that the loss of my leg proved entertaining for so many. ”
“Now that's not it, sir,” Sorcor began hastily, but Kennit waved him to silence.
“My liveship,” he announced.
“Oh, Sar,” Sorcor groaned.
“Did we not have an agreement?” Kennit asked him. “I believe we've just captured and liberated a slaveship. As I recall, it is now my turn to go after a liveship. ”
Sorcor scratched at his beard. “That weren't quite the agreement, sir. It was that if we saw a slaver, we went after her. And then the next liveship we saw, we'd go after. But you're talking about hunting a liveship, or laying in wait for one. ”
“It all amounts to the same thing,” Kennit dismissed his objection.
“No, begging your pardon, sir, but it don't. I've been giving it some thought, sir. Maybe we ought to lay off both for a time. Just go back to pirating like we used to. Go after some fat merchant ships, like we used to do. Get us some money, have some good times. Stay away from slavers and serpents for a while. ” Sorcor's thick fingers fumbled with the gilt buttons on his vest as he offered this. “You've shown me life can be different than what I thought. For both of us. You got yourself a nice woman. She makes a real difference around here. I see now what you were trying to get me to understand. If we went back to Divvytown with a good haul, well, like Sincure Faldin was saying about being respectable and settled and all . . . ”
“Once we have a liveship under us, you can have your choice of virgins, Sorcor,” Kennit promised him. “A new one each week, if that is what pleases you. But first, my liveship. Now. If we can assume that anything we learned from the Sicerna's crew is true, then it is likely we still have at least one liveship south of us still. Come and look at the chart with me. It seems to me that luck has placed us in a fine position. To the south of us, here, we have Hawser Channel. A nasty bit of water at any time, but especially at the change of tides. Any ship going north has to go through it. Do you see?”
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“I see,” Sorcor conceded grudgingly.
Kennit ignored his reluctance. “Now, in Hawser Channel we have Crooked Island. The good passage is to the east of the island. It's shallow in a few spots, but the shoals don't shift much. To the west of the island is a different story. The current runs strong, especially at the tide changes. Close to the island we have shoals that constantly form and reform. To the west we have the aptly named Damned Rocks. ” He paused. “Do you recall them?”
Sorcor frowned. “I'll never forget them. You took us in there that one time the Satrap's galley got after us. Current caught us and we shot through there like an arrow. Took me three days to believe I came out of it alive. ”
“Exactly,” Kennit concurred. “A much swifter passage than if we had gone to the east of Crooked Island. ”
“So?” Sorcor asked warily.
“So? So we anchor here. A beautiful view of the approach to Hawser Channel. Once we see the liveship enter the channel, we take the west passage. As the liveship emerges, there we are, waiting for her, anchored in mid-channel. The east passage still has a respectable current. The liveship will have no choice but to run aground in the shoal here. ” He lifted his eyes from the chart to meet Sorcor's solemn look with a grin. “And she is ours. With minimum damage, if any. ”
“Unless she simply rams us,” Sorcor pointed out sourly.
“Oh, she won't,” Kennit assured him. “Even if she did, we'd still just board her and take her anyway. ”
“And lose the Marietta?” Sorcor was horrified.
“And gain a liveship!”
“This is not a good idea. A hundred things could go wrong,” Sorcor objected. “We could be smashed to bits on the Damned Rocks. That's not a piece of water I'd ever willingly run again. Or if her draft is shallower than ours, we might take all those risks and she might still just slip past us quick-like while we were still anchored. Or . . . ”
He meant it. He actually meant it, he wasn't going to go along with the idea. How dare he? He'd be nothing without Kennit. Nothing at all. A moment before, he'd been swearing he owed all he was to his captain, and now he would deny him his chance at a liveship.
A sudden change in tactics occurred to Kennit.
He lifted a hand to stem the mate's words. “Sorcor. Do you care for me at all?” he asked with disarming directness.
That stopped his words, as Kennit had known it would. The man almost blushed. He opened his mouth and then stammered, “Well, Captain, we've sailed together for a time now. And I can't recall a man who's treated me fairer, or been more . . . ”
Kennit shook his head and turned aside from him as if moved. "No one else is going to help me with this, Sorcor. There's no one I trust as I do you. Since I was a boy, I've dreamed of a liveship. I always believed that someday I'd walk the deck of one, and she'd be mine.
And - “ He shook his head and let his voice thicken. ”Sometimes a man fears he may see the end sooner than he'd believed. This leg . . . if what they say is true for me . . . “ He turned back to Sorcor, opened his blue eyes wide to meet Sorcor's dark ones. ”This may be my last chance," he said simply.
“Oh, sir, don't talk like that!” Tears actually started to the scarred mate's eyes. Kennit bit his lip hard to keep the grin away. He leaned closer to the chart table to hide his face. It was a mistake, for his crutch slipped. He caught at the table edge, but the tip of his rotten stump still touched the floor. He cried out with the agony of it and would have fallen if Sorcor had not caught him.
“Easy. I've got you. Easy now. ”
“Sorcor,” he said faintly. He regained his grip on the chart table, and leaned hard on his arms to keep from collapsing. “Can you do this for me?” He lifted his head. He was shaking now, he could feel it. It was the strain of standing on one leg. He wasn't accustomed to it, that was all. He didn't truly believe he'd die of this. He'd heal, he always healed, no matter how badly he was injured. He could do nothing about the grimace of pain that twisted his f
ace or the sweat that had started fresh on his face. Use it. “Can you give me this last chance at it?”
“I can do it, sir. ” The dumb faith vied with heartbreak in Sorcor's eyes. “I'll get your liveship for you. You'll walk her decks. Trust me,” he begged Kennit.
Despite his pain, Kennit laughed in his throat. He changed it to a cough. Trust him. “What choice do I have?” he asked himself bitterly. Somehow the words slipped out aloud. He swung his gaze to where Sorcor regarded him worriedly. He forced a sick smile to his lips, warmth to his voice. He shook his head at himself. “All these years, Sorcor, who else have I ever trusted? I have no choice but to put the burden once more upon our friendship. ”
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He reached for his crutch. He took hold of it, but realized he did not have the strength to hold it firmly. The healing of his stump was drawing off every bit of strength he had. He blinked his heavy eyes. “I shall have to ask for your help to reach my bed as well. My strength deserts me. ”
“Captain,” Sorcor said. The groveling affection of a dog was in the word. Kennit stored the thought away to consider when he felt better. Somehow asking Sorcor's aid had made the man more dependent on his approval than ever. He had chosen his first mate well, he decided. Were he in Sorcor's position, he would have instinctively grasped that now was his best opportunity to seize full power. Luckily for Kennit, Sorcor was slower-witted than he.
Sorcor stooped awkwardly and actually lifted Kennit bodily to carry him back to his bed. The abrupt movement stirred his pain to a new intensity. Kennit clutched at Sorcor's shoulders and his brain swam dizzily. For an instant he was overwhelmed by an ancient memory of his father: black whiskers and whiskey breath and sailor stink, whirling and laughing in a drunken dance with the boy Kennit in his arms. A time both terrifying and happy. Sorcor set him down gently on his bunk. “I'll send Etta in, shall I?”
