by Robin Hobb
The ship was very quiet. By Brashen's order, the crew walked softly and conversed only in whispers. No lights had been hung. Even the ship was trying to mute the small noises of his planked body. All canvas had been lowered and secured. Sound carried too well in this fog. He wished to be able to hear if another ship approached in the mist. Amber ghosted up to stand silently beside them.
"If we're lucky, some of this fog may burn off in the morning," Althea observed hopefully.
"We're as like to be shrouded more thickly than ever," Brashen returned. "But we'll wait for what light day offers us before we try it. Over there." He pointed and Althea followed the line of his arm. "I think that's the opening. We'll try it at dawn."
"You're not sure?" Amber whispered in quiet dismay.
"If Divvytown were easy to find, it would not have survived as a pirate stronghold all these years," Brashen pointed out. "The whole trick of the place is that unless you know it's there, you'd never think to look for it."
"Perhaps," Amber began hesitantly. "Perhaps one of the former slaves could help. They came from the Pirate Isles…"
Brashen shook his head. "I've asked. They've all professed complete ignorance of Divvytown, denied they ever pirated. Ask any of them. They were the sons of runaway slaves who settled in the Pirate Isles to begin new lives. Chalcedean or Jamaillian slave raiders captured them, and they were tattooed and sold in Jamaillia. From thence they were brought to Bingtown."
"Is it so hard to believe?" Amber asked him.
"Not at all," Brashen replied easily. "But a boy almost always picks up a generalized knowledge of the town he grows up in. These fellows profess too much ignorance of everything for me to be comfortable with their stories."
"They're good sailors," Althea added. "I expected trouble when they were shifted onto my watch, but they haven't been. They'd prefer to stay to themselves, but I haven't allowed that, and they haven't objected. They turn to with a will, just as they did when they first came aboard to work in secret. Harg, I think, resents losing some of his authority over the others; on my watch, they are all just sailors, on an equal footing with the rest. But they are good sailors… a bit too good for this to be their first voyage."
Amber sighed. "I confess, when I first proposed bringing them aboard and allowing them to trade their labor for a chance to return to their homes, I never considered that they might have conflicting loyalties. Now, it seems obvious."
"Blinded by the opportunity to do a good turn for someone." Althea smiled and gave Amber a friendly nudge. Amber gave her a knowing smile in return. Althea knew a moment's uneasiness.
"Do I dare ask if Lavoy could assist us here?" Amber continued softly.
Althea shook her head when Brashen didn't reply. "Brashen's charts are all we have to go by. With the shift in seasons, and the constant changes in the isles themselves, it becomes tricky."
"Sometimes I wonder if I even have the correct bit of swamp," Brashen added sourly. "This could be the wrong river entirely."
"It's the right bit of swamp." Paragon's deep voice was very soft, almost a thrumming rather than speaking. "It's even the right river mouth. As I could have told you hours ago, if anyone had seen fit to ask me."
The three humans kept absolutely still as if by moving or speaking they would break some spell. A deep suspicion Althea had always harbored simmered in her mind.
"You're right, Althea." The ship answered her unspoken words. "I've been here before. I've been in and out of Divvytown enough times that I could sail up there in the blackest night, at any tide." His deep laugh vibrated all the foredeck. "As I'd lost my eyes before I ever went up the river, what I see or don't see makes little difference."
Amber dared to speak aloud. "How can you know where we are? You always said you feared to sail the open waters blind. Why are you so fearless now?"
He chuckled indulgently. "There is a great difference between the wide-open sea and the mouth of a river. There are many senses besides sight. Cannot you smell the stink of Divvytown? Their wood fires, their outhouses, the charnel pit where they burn their dead? What the air does not carry to me, the river does. The sour taste of Divvytown flows with the river. With every fiber in my planking, I taste the water from the lagoon, thick and green. I've never forgotten it. It is as slimy now as it was when Igrot ruled there."
"You could take us there, even in the blackest night?" Brashen spoke carefully.
"I said that. Yes."
Althea waited. To trust Paragon or to fear him. To place all their lives in his care, or to wait for dawn and grope their way up the fog-bound river… She sensed a test in the ship's words. She was suddenly glad that Brashen was the captain. This was not a decision she would want to make.
It was so dark now she could scarcely see Brashen's profile. She saw his shoulders lift as he took a breath. "Would you take us there, Paragon?"
"I would."
They worked in the dark, without lanterns, putting up his canvas and raising his anchor. It pleased him to think of them scurrying in the blackness, as blind as he was. They worked his windlass voicelessly, the only sound that of the turning gears and the rattling chain. He opened his senses to the night. "Starboard. Just a bit," he said softly, as they raised his canvas and the wind nudged him, and heard the command relayed in whispers the length of his deck.
Brashen was on the wheel. It was good to have his steady hands there; even better to be the one deciding how he would go and feeling the sailors jump to his orders. Let them discover how it felt to have to place your life in the hands of one you feared. For they all feared him, even Lavoy. Lavoy made fine words about friendships that transcended time or kind, but in his gut, the mate feared the ship more profoundly than any other man aboard.
And well they should, Paragon thought with satisfaction. If they knew his true nature, they would piss themselves with terror. They would fling themselves shrieking into the deeps, and count it a merciful end. Paragon lifted his arms out high and spread wide his fingers. It was a pitiful comparison, this damp wind flowing past his hands as his sails pushed him toward the mouth of the river, but it was enough to sustain his soul. He had no eyes, he had no wings, but his soul was still a dragon's soul. "This is beautiful," Amber said to him.
He startled. As long as she had been aboard, there were still times when she was transparent to him. She was the only one whose fear of him he could not feel. Sometimes he shared her emotions, but never her thoughts, and when he did catch a tinge of her feelings, he suspected it was because she allowed it. As a result, her words confused him more often than the others' did. She was the only one who could possibly lie to him. Was she lying now?
"What is beautiful?" he demanded quietly. She did not answer. Paragon put his mind to the task at hand. Brashen wanted him to take them up the river as silently as possible. He wanted Divvytown to wake tomorrow to the sight of them anchored in their harbor. The idea appealed to the ship. Let them gawk and shout at the sight of him come back from the dead. If there were any there that yet recalled him.
"The night is beautiful," Amber said at last. "And we are beautiful in the night. There is a moon somewhere above us. It makes the fog gleam silver. Here and there, my eyes find bits of you. A row of silver droplets hung on a line stretched tight. Or the fog breaks for an instant, and the moon shines our way up the river. You move so smoothly and sweetly. Listen. There is the water against your bow, purring like a cat, and the wind shushes us along. The river is so narrow here; it is as if we knife through the forest, parting trees to let us pass. The same wind that pushes us stirs the leaves of the trees. It has been so long since I last heard the wind in the trees and smelled earth smells. It is like being in a silver dream on a magic ship."
Paragon found himself smiling. "I am a magic ship."
"I know. Oh, well do I know what a wonder you are. On a night such as this, moving swift and silent in the dark, I almost feel as if you could unfurl wings and lift us into the very sky itself. Do you not feel it, Paragon
?"
Of course he did. The unnerving part was that she felt it also, and put words to it. He did not speak of that. "What I feel is that the channel is deeper to starboard. Ease me over, just a bit. I'll tell you when."
Lavoy came up onto the deck. Paragon felt him pace aft to where Brashen held the wheel. There was anger in his stride, and aggression. Would it be tonight? Paragon wondered and felt a tightening of excitement. Perhaps tonight the two males would challenge one another, would circle and then strike, exchanging blows until one of them was prostrate and bleeding. He strained to hear what Lavoy would say.
But Brashen spoke first. His soft deep voice carried cold through Paragon's wood. "What brings you out on deck, Lavoy?"
Paragon felt Lavoy's hesitation. Fear, uncertainty, or simply strategy. He could not tell clearly. "I expected us to anchor all night. The change in motion woke me."
"And now that you've seen what we're about?"
"This is mad. We could run aground at any moment, and then we'd be easy prey for whoever chanced upon us. We should anchor now, if we can do so safely, and wait for morning."
Amusement tinged Brashen's voice as he asked, "Don't you trust our ship to guide us, Lavoy?"
Lavoy sank his deep voice to a bare whisper and hissed a reply. Paragon felt a prickling of anger. Lavoy did not whisper for Brashen's sake; he whispered because he did not wish Paragon to know his true opinion.
In contrast, Brashen spoke clearly. Did he know Paragon would hear every word? "I disagree, Lavoy. Yes, I do trust him with my life. As I have every day since we started the voyage. Some friendships go deeper than madness or common sense. Now that you've expressed your opinion of your captain's judgment and your ship's reliability, I suggest you retire to your bunk until your watch begins. I've some special duties for you tomorrow. They may prove quite tiring. Good night to you."
For five breaths longer, Lavoy lingered there. Paragon could imagine how they would stand, teeth bared, wings slightly uplifted, long powerful necks arched for the strike. But this time the challenger turned his eyes aside, bowing his head and lowering his wings. He moved slowly away, expressing his subservience, but grudgingly. The dominant male watched him go. Did Brashen's eyes glitter and spin with triumph? Or did he know that this challenge was not settled, merely deferred?
They dropped anchor long before dawn. The rattling of the chain was the loudest noise they had made since they left the river mouth. They had eased into place in the harbor, not too close to the three other ships secured there. All was quiet aboard the other vessels. Woe to whomever had been left on watch; surely, they'd be chastised tomorrow. Brashen had sent the crew below save for a carefully chosen anchor watch. Then he had ordered his second mate to join him on the afterdeck.
Brashen stood at the railing and looked toward the lights of Divvytown. They glinted like yellow eyes through the fog, winking and then glittering as the fog drifted and changed. One puzzled him, a single light, brighter than the others and much, much higher. Had someone left a lantern burning at the top of a tree? That answer made no sense, so he pushed it aside. Dawn's light would likely solve that mystery. The other scattered lights did not quite match his recollection of the town, but doubtless the fog had something to do with that. Divvytown, again. The noisome little town never slept. The fog carried odd bits of distorted sound to his ears. Cheerful shouts, a snatch of drunken song, a dog barking. Brashen yawned. He wondered if he dared to try for a few hours' sleep before dawn revealed the Paragon and his crew to Divvytown.
Bare feet padded up softly behind him. "She's not here," Althea whispered disappointedly. "At least, I've seen no sign of her in the harbor…"
"No. I don't think Vivacia is anchored here tonight. That would have been expecting too much luck. But she was here the last time I was, and I think it likely she'll be here again. Patience." He turned to her. In the concealing fog, he dared to catch her hand and pull her closer. "What were you imagining? That we'd find her here, tonight, and somehow manage to spirit her away without a fight?"
"A child's dream," Althea admitted. Momentarily, she let her forehead rest against his shoulder. He wanted so badly to take her in his arms and hold her.
"Then call me a child, for I had the same vain hope. That something could be simple and easy for us."
She straightened with a sigh, and moved away from him. It made the damp night colder.
Wistfulness twined through him. "Althea? Do you think there will ever be a time and place when things are simple and easy for us? A time when I can walk down the street with you on my arm under the light of day?"
She answered slowly. "I've never allowed myself to look that far ahead."
"I have," Brashen said bluntly. "I've thought ahead to you captaining Vivacia and me still running Paragon. That's the happiest ending we could expect from this quest. But then I ask myself, where does that leave us? When and where do we make a home for ourselves?"
"Sometimes we'd both be in port at the same time."
He shook his head. "That isn't enough for me. I want you all the time, always at my side."
She spoke quietly. "Brashen. I cannot allow myself to think of that just now. I fear that all my planning for tomorrow must begin with my family ship."
"And I fear it will always be so. That all your plans will always begin with your ship." Abruptly he realized that he sounded like a jealous lover.
Althea seemed to feel the same. "Brashen, must we speak of such things now? Cannot we, for now, be content with what we have, with no thoughts for tomorrow?"
"I thought I was supposed to be the one to say such things," he replied gruffly after a moment. "Still, I know that for now, I must be content with what I have. Stolen moments, secret kisses." He smiled ruefully. "When I was seventeen, I would have thought this the epitome of romance: covert passion aboard a ship. Furtive kisses on the afterdeck on a foggy night." With a step he swept her into his arms and kissed her deeply. He had not surprised her; had she been waiting for him to do this? She held nothing back; her body fitted sweetly against his. Her easy response stirred him so deeply he groaned with longing. Reluctantly, he separated his body from hers.
He found a breath. "But I'm not a boy anymore. Now this just drives me mad. I want more than this, Althea. I don't want suspense and quarrels and jealousy. I don't want sneaking about and concealing what I feel. I want the comfort of knowing you are mine, and taking pride in everyone else recognizing that as well. I want you in my bed beside me, every night, and across the table from me in the morning. I want to know that years from now, if I stand on another deck somewhere, on another night, you will still be beside me."
She turned to look up at him incredulously. She could barely pick out his features. Was he teasing her? His voice had sounded serious. "Brashen Trell, are you proposing marriage to me?"
"No," he said hastily. There was a long uncomfortable silence. Then he laughed softly. "Yes. I suppose I am. Marriage, or something very like it."
Althea took a long breath and leaned back on the railing. "You never cease to surprise me," she observed shakily. "I… I don't have an answer for you."
His voice also shook, though she knew he tried for levity. "I suppose that's all right, as I haven't really asked the question yet. But when all this is over, I shall."
"When all this is over, I'll have an answer for you." She made the promise, knowing she had no idea what that answer would be. Frantically, she pushed that worry to the back of her mind. Other things, she told herself, there were other, more pressing matters to deal with, even if those other matters did not make her heart shake as this had. She tried to quench her quick breathing and the yearning of her flesh.
"What happens next?" she asked, gesturing toward the muted lights.
He countered her question with another question. "Of those on board, who do you trust most? Name me two names."
That was effortless. "Amber and Clef."
His short laugh was rueful. "And my answer is the same. Who do you t
rust least?"
Again she did not need to pause. "Lavoy and Artu."
"Then they are off the list of those we take ashore. We won't take our problems with us, nor leave them unattended on the ship."
We. She liked the sound of that. "Who are we taking, then?"
He didn't hesitate. "Jek. Cypros and Kert. I'd like to take one or two of your former slaves, to give the impression that we're a mixed crew. You'll have to choose them." He paused, thinking. "I'm leaving Lop with Amber. I'll let Haff know that he is to back her if she asks him to. I'll give her the word that if there's any trouble at all, from inside or outside the ship, Lop is to row Clef ashore to find us."
"You're expecting trouble from Lavoy?"
He made a disparaging noise. "Not expecting. Planning for all possibilities."
She lowered her voice. "It can't go on like this. What are you going to do about him?"
He spoke slowly. "Let him make the first move. And then, when it's over, I'll see what's left. Maybe I can make a serviceable deckhand out of it."
Dawn came, a disappointment. A high yellow sun shredded the mist to wandering ghosts. The clouds blew in, covering the sun's face, and a miserable chill rain lanced down. Brashen ordered out the ship's gig. While it was made ready, he stared at Divvytown. He scarcely recognized it. The elevated light of the night before resolved itself as a watchtower. The wharves were in a new location, backed by warehouses built of fresh lumber. On the edges of the town, the shells of some burned-out structures remained, as if a spreading fire had created the rebuilt town. He doubted it had been an accident; the watchtower spoke of people determined not to be taken unawares again.
He grinned wolfishly. It would probably upset them to find a strange vessel in their harbor. He considered waiting aboard for whoever they might send out to question him, but decided against it. Bold and brash as his name he would be; he would assume a welcome and fellowship, and see where it got him.
