Mad Ship tlt-2

by Robin Hobb

  "There are a few things," Ronica said quietly. She absently twisted the ring on her finger. "What we must recall is that whether or not we have possession of the liveship, a payment comes due soon. The Khuprus family will expect…"

  "Don't consider that," Malta said quietly. "I will accept Reyn's suit. I will set a date for our wedding, on condition that my father is home to attend it. I think that will win us a reprieve from that debt, and perhaps some financial help to launch the Paragon."

  A profound silence filled the room. To Keffria, it seemed that the room filled with stillness as a bucket brims with clear water. It was not just the quiet. It was a moment of cognizance. She looked at her daughter and suddenly saw her as someone else. The spoiled and stubborn girl who would stop at nothing to get her own way was suddenly a young woman who would sacrifice anything, even herself, to rescue her father. This unswerving act of will was rattling. Keffria bit her tongue to keep from telling her that Kyle wasn't worth it. He would never understand that what his daughter had been ready to sacrifice was not a moment's brave word but her whole life. No one, she thought, can be worth another's entire life spent in subservience. She glanced at the slave-boy, so silently watching them all, but found herself considering her marriage. A bitter smile bent her mouth. One woman had already made that sacrifice for Kyle Haven.

  "Malta. Please do not make such a decision under these circumstances." The power in her own voice surprised her. "I do not dispute that it is your decision to make. Proof enough of your womanhood is that you are willing to make it. I simply ask that you delay such a course until all others have been explored."

  "What other courses?" Malta asked hopelessly. "Through all our troubles, no one has come to our aid. Who do we think will help us now?"

  "The Tenira family might," Althea offered quietly. "Some few of the other liveship owners may come forward and…"

  "They're going to be too busy with their own problems for some time," Brashen broke in. "I'm sorry. It's hard for me to think straight tonight. I keep forgetting you probably don't know what else went on. There was a riot at the tariff docks tonight. Tenira and some of the others went down in force. They moved Ophelia out to the center of the harbor and a whole fleet of small boats went out to unload her. The cargo has been scattered all over Bingtown. Tenira gave it away rather than pay any tariffs on it. But that didn't stop the Chalcedeans from trying to interfere."

  "Sweet Sa, have mercy. Was anyone hurt?" Ronica demanded.

  Brashen's smile was not a friendly one. "The Bingtown harbor master is quite upset about two sunken galleys. Unfortunately, they went down right near the tariff docks. No large ships are going to be able to get in there to tie up for a time. Sa only knows when they'll find a way to raise them…"

  "They burned going down," Amber added. She sounded both saddened and satisfied. She added casually, "Part of the tariff dock caught as well. When we left, some of the Satrap's warehouses were still burning."

  Brashen's tone challenged Althea, "You might concede there was good reason to be concerned for your safety, on such a night."

  "You were down there?" Althea looked from one to the other. "All those fires… too many to be one accidental fire spreading. This was planned in advance, wasn't it? Why didn't I know?"

  "Ophelia and I have become very good friends," Amber replied evasively.

  "Why wasn't I told?"

  "Maybe it wasn't a fit place for a Trader's daughter to be." Brashen shrugged. More sourly, he added, "Perhaps Grag cares enough for you that he wouldn't want to risk you being arrested also."

  "Grag was arrested?"

  "For a short time. They found the Chalcedean guards who were supposed to be holding him, but Grag himself has disappeared." He permitted himself a small smile. "I understand that he's fine, however. I'm sure you'll hear from him in a day or so. Surely he wouldn't leave his lady love in suspense."

  "How do you know so much? How did you happen to be down there?" Althea's anger was building. She had flushed a deep scarlet. Keffria could not understand why she was so upset about this. Did she wish she had been at a riot, instead of driving Davad home?

  "When I saw a band of disgruntled Traders form up and leave the meeting early together, I followed them. When I saw their real intent, I joined them. As did a good many others along the way." He paused. "Later, I heard some talk about what had been done to Davad Restart's carriage. And what some wished to do to him. If I'd been there, I would never have allowed you to drive that carriage off alone. What Tenira was thinking, I don't—"

  "I've told you before, I don't need you to look after me!" Althea was suddenly savagely angry. "I don't need anyone's help."

  Brashen folded his arms on his chest. "Oh, that's obvious, now. I'm only puzzled as to why you stood up at the Traders' meeting and asked for the help you now refuse."

  "I don't need help from you!" Althea clarified fiercely.

  "I do." Keffria found her sister's shock almost satisfying. She met Althea's glare with a calm look. "You seem to have forgotten that I, not you, am the Trader for this family. I am not so proud as to turn away the only help we may be offered." Keffria switched her glance to Brashen. "What do we need to begin this? Where do we start?"

  Brashen tilted his head toward Malta. "The little one is right. We need money to start." He nodded next to Ronica. "And the captain's lady will have to push Davad Restart to make him present this offer favorably to the Ludlucks. Any other liveship owners who would add their approval would help. Maybe Althea could get her sweetheart to put in his word on this. I know a few of the liveships, and I'll speak to them directly. You might be surprised how much pressure a liveship can put on his family." He took a breath and briefly rubbed his temples. He put his kerchief away slowly. "Althea is right. Getting crew will be a problem. I'll start on that immediately, put word out in the taverns that I'm hiring a lively crew of daring men. Those that come will half expect to turn pirate. They may turn away at the name of Paragon, but…"

  "Ay'll go. Ay'll sail wiff you."

  The boy blushed a bit when they all stared at him, but he didn't lower his eyes from Brashen's face. The plate of food looked as clean as if it had been washed. With the meal, the boy seemed to have taken on substance and spirit as well.

  "That's a brave offer, lad, but you're a bit small yet." Brashen could not quite keep the amusement from his voice.

  The boy looked indignant. "I feshed wiff my Da, 'fore the slave raiders kem. Know ma way roun' a deck." He shrugged his thin shoulders. "D'ruther do that'n shovel hosshit. Hosses stink."

  "You're free now. You can go anywhere you want. Wouldn't you rather go home to your family?" Keffria asked him gently.

  His narrow face stilled. For an instant, it seemed as if her words had muted him again. Then he shrugged. His voice was harder and less boyish as he said, "Nothern but ashes'n bones there. D'ruther go back ta sea. S'my life, right? Freed, am't I?" He looked about defiantly as if he expected them to revoke that.

  "You're free," Althea assured him.

  "Then 'm gone wiff him." He tossed his head at Brashen, who shook his head slowly.

  "There's another idea," Malta broke in suddenly. "Buy a crew. I've seen some tattoo-faced sailors about Bingtown. Why couldn't we just buy some sailors?"

  "Because slavery is wrong," Amber pointed out dryly. "On the other hand, I know some slaves who might be willing to risk punishment by running away and joining the crew. They were stolen from homes and families in the pirate isles. They might be willing to take part in a chancy venture, if they were promised the opportunity to go home. Some might even know something of the waters."

  "Could we trust slave sailors?" Keffria asked hesitantly.

  "On the ship, they wouldn't be slaves," Brashen pointed out. "If it's a choice between an able-bodied runaway and a broken-down drunk, I'll hire the runaway. A little gratitude from a man given a second chance at life can go a long way." He looked suddenly thoughtful as he said this.

  "Who put you i
n charge of hiring?" Althea protested. "If we're going to do this, I'll want the final say on my crew."

  "Althea, you can't be thinking of sailing with them," Keffria protested.

  "How could you think I would not? If we are going after the Vivacia, I must be on board." Althea stared at her sister as if she were crazy.

  "It's completely inappropriate!" Keffria was aghast. "The Paragon will be an unreliable ship, with a motley crew, going into dangerous waters, possibly into battle. You can't possibly go. What would people think of the Vestrits if we allowed you to sail on such a ship?"

  Althea's eyes grew flinty. "I worry more about what people would think if we were content to let others take all the risks of regaining our family ship. How can we say it is a vital errand and ask our friends for aid, but then say that it isn't worth one of the family taking a risk?"

  "I think she should, actually." This astonishing statement from Brashen left several of them gaping. He addressed his remarks to Keffria, acknowledging that the decision actually rested with her. "If you don't make it plain that this is a Vestrit venture, you won't get any of the other Traders to support it. They'll see it as entrusting a liveship to a ne'er-do-well, disinherited Trader's son and a foreigner. And if, I hope when, we regain the Vivacia, the ship will need Althea. Badly." He met eyes cautiously as he added, "But I do not think she should sail as captain, mate or even crew. This is going to be a tough crew, one that will be kept in line by fists and brawn, initially, anyway. The type of men we'll end up with aren't going to respect anyone who can't pound them to the deck if he has to. You don't qualify. And if you're working alongside them, they aren't going to give you respect. They'll test your abilities at every turn. Sooner or later, you would get hurt."

  Althea's eyes narrowed. "I don't need you to look after me, Brashen Trell. Remember? I've proved my abilities, and they're not based just on body strength. My father always said it was a poor captain who had to keep his crew in line by blows."

  "Maybe because he felt that was the first mate's job," Brashen retorted. He modified his tone as he added, "Your father was a fine captain with a wonderful ship, Althea. He could have paid low wages and still had good men willing to work for him. We won't have his options, I'm afraid." Brashen yawned abruptly, then looked embarrassed. "I'm tired," he said abruptly. "I need to get some sleep before we do anything further. I think we at least know what our difficulties will be."

  "There is one other problem we haven't addressed at all tonight," Amber interjected. They all looked at her. "We can't assume the Paragon will enter into this willingly. He has many fears of his own. In some ways, he's a frightened boy. The dangerous side of the coin is that he is an angry man, just as often. If we are going to do this, I think it is essential that he do it willingly. For if we try to force him to do it, there is no possibility of success."

  "Do you think it will be hard to persuade him?" Ronica asked.

  Amber shrugged. "I don't know. Paragon is completely unpredictable. Even if he is agreeable at first, he may change his mind a day or a week later. It is something we must take into account on this venture."

  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. First, we must get Davad Restart to get the Ludlucks to agree to our plan."

  "I think I can prevail there," Ronica said in a voice that had a cool steel edge to it. Keffria felt a moment of sympathy for Davad. "I think I shall have the answer to that before noon tomorrow. I see no point in delaying this."

  Brashen sighed heavily. "We are in agreement, then. I will return tomorrow afternoon. Good night, Ronica and Keffria. Goodnight, Althea." There was a very subtle change to his tone as he bid her sister goodnight.

  "Goodnight, Brashen," Althea returned his farewell in a similar tone.

  Amber, too, bid them farewell. As Althea prepared to walk them to the door, the slave-boy also stood. Keffria knew a moment of exasperation with her sister's impulsive behavior. "Don't forget, you have to find a place for the boy to sleep," she told Althea.

  The boy shook his head. "Not here, 'm gone wiff him." He tossed his head at Brashen.

  "No." Brashen made the single word final.

  "Freed, am't I?" the boy protested stubbornly. He cocked his head and stared at Brashen. "Ken't stop me."

  "Don't bet on that," Brashen told him ominously. In a kinder voice he added, "Boy, I can't take care of you. I've got no home to go to; I'm on my own."

  "Me, too," the boy insisted calmly.

  "I think you should let him go with you, Brashen," Amber suggested. She had a strangely speculative look on her face. With a wry twist to her mouth, she added, "It might not be the best of luck to turn away your first willing crewman."

  "S'right," the boy asserted cockily. "El ken't respect a man who don't dare. Dare tek me. Y'on't regret it."

  Brashen squinted his eyes shut tightly and shook his head. But as he left the room the boy followed him, and he made no motion to discourage him. Amber followed with a small smile on her face.

  "Do you think they can bring Papa home?" Malta asked in a small voice after they had left the room.

  While Keffria was trying to decide how to answer that, her mother spoke. "Our finances are foundering, my dear. There is no point to refusing this risk. If it succeeds, it may save the family fortunes. If they fail, we will sink a bit faster. That is all."

  Keffria thought it a cruel thing to say to a child, but to her surprise, Malta nodded slowly. "I was thinking the same thing myself," she observed.

  It was the first time in the last year that she had spoken in a completely civil tone to her grandmother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Piracy

  With the prey in sight, all her doubts evaporated like the morning mists on a sunny day. Wintrow's shared soul searching, all his anxieties and structured morality, fell away from her like paint peeling off quickened wizardwood. She heard the lookout's shout as the sail came into view and something ancient stirred in her: time to hunt. When the pirates on her deck took up the lookout's fierce cry, she herself gave voice, like the shrill ki-ii of a stooping hawk. First the sail and then the ship came into sight, fleeing madly from the Marietta. Sorcor's smaller vessel hounded the prey as Vivacia, concealed behind a headland, swooped out to join the chase.

  Her crew drove her on as she had never been driven, piling on canvas until her masts and spars strained to hold the wind's breath. The canvas billowing wide, the whistle of the wind past her cheeks stirred in her memories that were not born in human lives. She lifted her hands and, fingers crooked like talons, reached after the fleeing ship. A wild thundering filled her heartless, bloodless body, quickening her to frenzy. She leaned forward, sleeking her planked body to a fleetness that made her crew whoop with excitement. White spume flew as she cut the waves.

  "You see?" Kennit cried out in triumph as he clung to her forward rail. "It is in your blood, my lady! I knew it! This is what you were made for, not some sedate toting of cargo like a village woman with a bucket of water. After them! Ah, they see you; they see you, look how they scramble! But it will avail them nothing."

  Wintrow dug his fingers into the railing beside Kennit. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes in the harsh kiss of the salt wind. He made not a sound. His jaws were clenched tight, near as tight he held the disapproval inside him. But the wild pounding of his heart betrayed him. His blood sang with this wild pursuit. His whole soul quivered in anticipation of the capture. He might deny this enthusiasm to himself, but he could not hide it from her.

  Kennit and Sorcor had not chosen this prey randomly. The rumor of the Crosspatch had reached Sorcor's ears weeks ago. More recently, with his captain's continuing recovery, he had shared the news with Kennit. Captain Avery of the Crosspatch had bragged, not only in Jamaillia City but in several smaller ports as well, that no pirate, no matter how daring or righteous would dissuade him from the slave trade. It had been a foolish boast, Kennit had told Vivacia. Avery's reputation was already well-known. He carried only the finest cargo
, educated slaves suitable for tutors, house servants and estate managers. He transported the best of Jamaillia's civilized wares as well: fine brandies and incenses, perfumes and intricate silver work. His customers in Chalced expected the extravagantly fine from him, and paid accordingly for his goods.

  While his ship represented a rich target, it was not one that Kennit would have ordinarily chosen. Why challenge a ship that was fleet and well armed, crewed by well-disciplined men, when there was easier prey to seize? But Avery had spoken once too often and once too recklessly. Such impudence could not be tolerated. Kennit, too, had a reputation to uphold. Avery had been foolish to challenge it.

  Kennit had gone to the Marietta more than once to plan this capture with Sorcor. Vivacia knew they had discussed the best places for such an ambush, but knew little more of his plans than that. Her curious questions had received only evasive answers.

  As the two ships scissored toward their quarry, Vivacia considered Wintrow's words of last night. He had bluntly condemned Kennit. "He hunts this ship for glory, not righteousness," he had said accusingly. "Other slavers carry far more slaves a board them, in great misery and deprivation. Avery, I have heard, does not chain his charges, but lets them move freely belowdecks. He is generous with both food and water, so his merchandise arrives in good condition and brings fine prices. Kennit chooses to pursue Avery's ship, not out of hatred of slavery, but for wealth and fame."

  She had pondered his words for some time. "That is not how he feels about it when he thinks of it," she answered. She had not elaborated on that topic further, for she herself was not completely certain of what Kennit felt. She knew there were depths to him that he concealed from all. She tried a new tack. "I do not think the slaves below his decks will be less grateful for their freedom than those held in squalor and deprivation. Do you think slavery is acceptable, if the slave is treated like a prized horse or dog?"