The Mad Ship

5 THE LIVESHIP OPHELIA

ALTHEA’S WATCH WAS over; her time was now her own. She was tired, but pleasantly so. The spring afternoon had been almost balmy. It was rare for the season to be this kindly and Althea had enjoyed it. The Ophelia herself had been in an expansive mood all day. The liveship had made the sailors’ tasks easy, moving northward towards home with a will. She was a ponderous old cog, now heavy with goods from a successful trading journey. The early evening wind was gentle rather than brisk, but Ophelia’s sails caught every breath of it. She slid effortlessly through the waves. Althea leaned on the forward rail, watching the beginnings of the sunset off the port bow. Home was only a few days away.

‘Mixed feelings?’ Ophelia asked her with a throaty chuckle. The buxom figurehead gave her a knowing glance over her bared shoulder.

‘You know you are right,’ Althea conceded. ‘About everything. Nothing in my life makes sense any more.’ She began to tick her confusions off on her fingers. ‘Here I am, serving as first on a liveship merchant vessel, about the highest post a sailor can aspire to. Captain Tenira has promised me a ship’s ticket out of this. It’s all the proof I need that I am a competent sailor. With that credential, I can go home and press Kyle to keep his word, and give me back my ship. Yet, oddly enough, I feel guilty about it. You have made it so easy. I worked three times as hard when I was serving as ship’s boy on the Reaper. It just doesn’t seem right.’

‘I could make your tasks harder if you wish,’ Ophelia offered teasingly. ‘I could develop a list, or start taking on water or…’

‘You wouldn’t do that,’ Althea told her with certainty. ‘You’re too proud of how well you sail. No. I do not wish my tasks to be harder. Nor do I regret my months aboard the Reaper. If nothing else, they proved to me that I could scramble. Serving aboard that hulk made me a better sailor, and showed me a side of sailing I had never seen before then. It wasn’t a waste of time. It was time away from the Vivacia; that is where the rub is. Time lost forever.’ Althea’s voice trailed away.

‘Oh, my dear, that’s so tragic.’ Ophelia’s voice was full of solicitude. A moment later, she went on sarcastically, ‘The only way it could be worse would be if you wasted still more time mooning about it. Althea. This is not like you. Look forward, not back. Correct your course and go on. You can’t undo yesterday’s journey.’

‘I know,’ Althea said with a rueful laugh. ‘I know that what I am doing now is the right thing to do. It just seems strange that it is so easy and pleasant. A beautiful ship, a lively crew, a good captain…’

‘A very handsome first mate,’ Ophelia interjected.

‘He is that,’ Althea admitted easily. And I appreciate all Grag has done for me. I know he says he is enjoying the chance to read and relax, but it must be tedious to pretend he is ill so I can have the chance to fill his position. I have a lot of reasons to be grateful to him.’

‘Odd. You haven’t shown him that gratitude.’ For the first time, a touch of chill crept into the ship’s voice.

‘Ophelia,’ Althea groaned. ‘Please, let’s not get into that again. You don’t want me to pretend feelings for Grag that I simply don’t have, do you?’

‘I simply can’t understand why you don’t have those feelings, that’s all. Are you sure you do not deceive yourself? Look at my Grag. He is handsome, charming, witty, kind, and a gentleman. Not to mention that he is born of a Bingtown Trader family and stands to inherit a sizeable fortune. A fortune that includes a magnificent liveship, I might add. What more could you be looking for in a man?’

‘He is all those things and more. I conceded that to you days ago. I find no faults with Grag Tenira. Or with his magnificent liveship.’ Althea smiled at the ship.

‘Then the problem must be with you,’ Ophelia announced inexorably. ‘Why aren’t you attracted to him?’

Althea bit her tongue for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was reasonable. ‘I am, Ophelia. In a way. Nevertheless, there are so many other things going on in my life that I cannot allow myself…I just do not have time to think about things like that. You know what I face when we get to Bingtown. I need to make amends with my mother, if that is possible. And there is another “magnificent liveship” that occupies my thoughts. I have to persuade my mother to support me when I try to take the Vivacia back from Kyle. She heard him vow before Sa that if I could but prove myself a sailor, he would give me the ship. However rashly he spoke, I intend to make him keep that vow. I know it is going to be an ugly struggle to force him to surrender Vivacia to me. I need to keep my mind focused on that.’

‘Don’t you think Grag could be a powerful ally in such a struggle?’

‘Would you think it honourable of me to encourage his advances only to use him as a tool to get my ship back?’ Althea’s voice was cool now.

Ophelia laughed low. Ah. He has made advances, then. I was beginning to worry about the boy. So. Tell me all about it.’ She quirked an eyebrow at Althea.

‘Ship!’ Althea warned her, but after a moment, she could not help joining her laughter. ‘Are you going to pretend to me that you don’t already know everything that goes on aboard you?’

‘Umm,’ Ophelia mused. ‘Perhaps I know most of what happens in the staterooms and belowdecks. But not all.’ She paused, then pried, ‘That was a very long silence inside his quarters yesterday. Did he try to kiss you yesterday?’

Althea sighed. ‘No. Of course not. Grag is far too well-bred for that.’

‘I know. More’s the pity.’ Ophelia shook her head. As if she had forgotten to whom she was speaking, she added, ‘The boy needs a bit more spark to him. Nice is fine, but there’s a time when a man should be a bit of a rogue, to get what he wants.’ She cocked her head at Althea. ‘Like Brashen Trell, for instance.’

Althea groaned. The ship had wormed his name out of her a week ago and had given her no peace since then. If she was not demanding to know what was wrong with Grag and why didn’t Althea fancy him, then she was pestering her for the sordid details of her brief liaison with Brashen. Althea did not want to think about the man. Her feelings on that topic were too confusing. The more she decided she was finished with him, the more he intruded into her thoughts. She kept thinking of all the witty things she should have said at their last parting. He had been so rude when she had not kept a rendezvous she knew was unwise. The man had assumed too much, far too soon. He didn’t deserve a moment of her thoughts, let alone dwelling on him. But despite her waking disdain for him, he intruded into her dreams. In her dreams, the poignancy of his gentle strength seemed a safe harbour worth seeking. In her dreams, she reminded herself, setting her teeth. In her waking hours, she knew he was no safe harbour, but a whirlpool of foolish impulses that would draw her to her doom.

She had been silent too long; Ophelia was watching her face with a knowing look. Abruptly Althea stood straight and put a small smile on her face. ‘I think I’ll go and see Grag before I turn in. There are a few questions I need answered.’

‘Um,’ Ophelia purred, pleased. ‘Take your time asking them, my dear. The Tenira men think deeply before they act, but when they do act…’ She lifted both her eyebrows at Althea. ‘You might not even remember Trell’s name afterwards,’ she suggested.

‘Believe me. I’m already doing my best to forget it.’

Althea was relieved to hurry away from her. Sometimes it was wonderful to spend part of the evening sitting and talking with the ship. The wizardwood figurehead incorporated many generations of Tenira sailors, but women had formed her first and deepest impressions. Ophelia retained a female perspective on life. It was not the fragile helplessness that now passed for femininity in Bingtown, but the independent determination that had distinguished the first women Traders. The advice she offered Althea was often startling to her, yet it frequently reinforced views Althea had privately held for years. Althea had not had many women friends. The tales Ophelia had shared with her had made her realize that her dilemmas were not as unique as she had believed. At the same time, Ophelia’s brazen discussions of Althea’s most intimate problems both delighted and horrified her. The ship seemed to accept Althea’s independence. She encouraged Althea to follow her heart, but also held her responsible for the decisions she had made. It was heady to have such a friend.

She hesitated outside the door to Grag’s cabin. She paused to straighten her clothing and hair. She had been relieved to abandon the boy’s guise she had worn aboard the Reaper. On this ship, the crew knew her name. Althea Vestrit had to uphold the honour of her family. So although she dressed practically, in heavy cotton fabric, the trousers she wore were closer to being a split skirt. She had bound her hair back out of the way, but not tarred it into a queue. The laced up blouse that she tucked carefully into her trousers even had a touch of embroidery on it.

She felt a pleasant anticipation at the thought of seeing Grag. She enjoyed sitting and talking with him. There was a gratifying little tension of awareness between them. Grag found her attractive and was undaunted by her competency. He seemed impressed by it. It was a new and flattering experience for Althea. She wished she could be certain that was all she felt. Despite her fling with Brashen, and despite living aboard ship with men for years, in some areas she was very inexperienced. She was not sure if she was attracted to Grag for himself, or simply because he seemed to be fascinated with her. Surely, this was just a harmless flirtation between them. What more could it be, between two strangers flung together by chance?

She took a breath and knocked.

‘Enter.’ Grag’s voice was muffled.

She found him sitting up on his bunk, his face swathed in bandaging. There was a strong scent of cloves in the air. At the sight of her, a welcoming glint came into his blue eyes. As she shut the door behind her, he pulled the wrappings off his jaw and let them drop gratefully. The pretence of the bandages had left his hair tousled like a boy’s. She grinned at him. ‘So. How’s the toothache?’

‘Convenient.’ He stretched, rolling his wide shoulders, then made a show of flinging himself back on his bunk. ‘I can’t remember when I last had this much time to myself.’ He swung his legs up onto his bunk and crossed them at the ankle.

‘You’re not getting bored?’

‘No. For any sailor, idle time is too much of a novelty. We always find a way to fill it.’ He fished around at the edge of his bunk and came up with a handful of ropework. He unrolled it on his lap to reveal a fancifully knotted mat. The intricate pattern had created a lacy effect from the stout twine he had used to create it. It was hard to believe such a delicate design came from his work-scarred fingers.

Althea touched the edge of it. ‘Beautiful.’ Her fingers traced the pattern of knotted twine. ‘My father could take an empty wine bottle, and some twine, and create this wonderful pattern of knots over the glass. It looked like flowers, or snowflakes…He always promised he’d teach me how to do it, but we never found the time.’ The gaping sense of loss that she had believed she had mastered overwhelmed her again. She turned away from him abruptly and stared at the wall.

Grag was silent for a moment. Then he offered quietly, ‘I could teach you, if you wanted.’

‘Thanks, but it wouldn’t be the same.’ She was surprised by the brusqueness in her own voice. She shook her head, embarrassed by the sudden tears that brimmed in her eyes. She hoped he had not seen them. They made her vulnerable. Grag and his father had already done so much for her. She did not want them to see her as weak and needy, but as a strong person who would make the best of her opportunities. She drew in a long breath and squared her shoulders. ‘I’m all right now,’ she said in answer to his unspoken question. ‘Sometimes I miss him so badly. There’s a part of me that can’t accept that he’s dead, that I’ll never see him again.’

‘Althea…I know that perhaps this is a cruel question, but I’ve wondered. Why?’

‘Why did he take the ship I’d worked on for so many years and will it to my sister instead?’ She glanced over at Grag to see his quick nod. She shrugged. ‘He never told me. The closest he came to a reason was to say something about providing for my sister and her children. On good days, I tell myself that that meant he knew I could provide for myself and he was not afraid for me. On bad days, I wonder if he thought that I was selfish, if he feared that I would take Vivacia and care nothing for their welfare.’ She lifted her shoulders again. She caught a glimpse of herself in Grag’s shaving mirror. For an eerie instant, her father looked out at her. She had his wiry black hair and dark eyes, but not his size. She was small, like her mother. Nevertheless, the resemblance to her father was still strong, in the set of her jaw and the way her brows drew together when she was troubled.

‘My mother said that it was her idea and she talked him into it. She felt the estate had to be kept intact, the liveship inherited with the land holdings, so that the income from the one would go on supporting the other until all the debts were paid.’ She rubbed at her brow. ‘I suppose that makes sense. When Father decided that we would no longer trade up the Rain River, he doomed us to a much lower income. The goods he brought back from the southlands were exotic, but nothing like the magic goods from the Rain Wilds. Our land holdings yielded well, but we could not compete with Chalced’s slave-tended grain and fruit. Consequently, our debt for the ship is still substantial. Moreover, it is secured with our land holdings. If we fail to keep our promise to repay it, we could lose both ship and family land.’

‘And you are hostage for that debt as well.’ Grag pointed the fact out quietly. As a member of a Bingtown Trader family that owned a liveship, he was well aware of the standard terms for such a bargain. Liveships were rare and costly. Just as it took three generations for a liveship to quicken and come to cognisance, so it also took generations to pay for one. Only the Rain Wild Traders knew the source of the wizardwood lumber that made up the liveship hulls and figureheads. Only in a ship constructed of wizardwood could one safely negotiate the Rain River and participate in the trade of their near magical goods. Their value was such that families pledged their fortunes for them. ‘In blood or gold, the debt is owed,’ Grag added quietly. If the Vestrit family could not pay for the ship with coin, then a daughter or son of the family could be claimed.

Althea nodded slowly. Odd. She had known the terms of the bargain ever since she was old enough to be considered a woman, but somehow she had never applied it to herself. Her father had been a wonderful trader; he had always seen that there was money in the household to discharge their just debts. Now that her brother-in-law Kyle was in charge of the family’s liveship and finances, who could say how things would go? Her sister’s husband had never liked her. The last time they had been in the same room, in that final, spectacular family argument, he had said it was her duty to marry well and stop being a burden on the family. Perhaps that was exactly what he had been hinting: that if she went willingly to a Rain Wild man, the family could enjoy a lessening of their debt.

Ever since she was a tiny child, her duties to her family’s honour had been impressed upon her. A Bingtown Trader paid his debts and kept his word. No matter what their personal disagreements might be, when threatened by outsiders the Traders closed ranks and endured. Those ties of kinship and duty included the Traders who had chosen to remain behind in the Rain Wilds and settle there. Distance and years might have separated them, but the Rain Wild Traders were still kin to the Bingtown Traders. Contracts with them were honoured, and the duties of family were respected. She felt something inside her go hard and cold with purpose. If Kyle failed in the Vestrit family obligations, it would be her duty to offer herself. Fecundity was the one treasure the Rain Wild folk lacked. She would have to go to the Rain Wilds, take a husband there and bear children to him. It was what her forebears had promised, so long ago. Not to do so would be unthinkable. Nevertheless, to be forced into it by Kyle’s malice or ineptitude was intolerable.

‘Althea? Are you all right?’

Grag’s voice broke in on her thoughts and brought her back to herself. She realized she was glaring at a bulkhead. She gave a small shake and turned to face him. ‘I came to ask your advice, actually. I’m having a bit of trouble with one of the deckhands. I can’t decide if I should take it personally or not.’

The concerned look on Grag’s face deepened. ‘Which one?’

‘Feff.’ Althea shook her head in mock frustration. ‘One moment he listens and steps lively when I give an order. The next, he’ll look me straight in the face and stand there with a silly grin on his face. I don’t know if he’s mocking me, or…’

‘Ah!’ Grag grinned. ‘Feff’s deaf. In his left ear. Oh, he will not admit it to anyone. It happened when he fell from the mast about two years ago. He hit the deck hard, and for a day or so, we thought he wasn’t going to live. Eventually, he came out of it. He’s a bit slower about some things than he used to be, and I don’t send him aloft unless I have to. He doesn’t seem to have the balance he once did. He can’t always hear what you say, especially if he’s to the right of you. Sometimes if the wind is blowing strong, he can’t hear at all. He doesn’t mean to be insubordinate…that’s what the silly smile is about. Other than that, he’s a good man, and he’s been with the ship a long time. It wouldn’t be right to tie him up for that.’

‘Ah.’ Althea nodded to herself. ‘I wish someone had told me sooner,’ she said a bit crossly.

‘It’s one of those things Da and I don’t even think about any more. It’s just how the ship is. No one meant to make your job harder.’

‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ Althea replied hastily. ‘Everyone has gone out of their way to make my tasks easier. I know that. It’s wonderful to be back on board a liveship again, and even more wonderful to discover that I actually can do this job. My father’s will and my quarrel with Kyle and Brashen’s concerns all made me wonder if I really was competent.’

‘Brashen’s concerns?’ Grag asked in a quietly leading voice.

Why had she said it? Where had her mind been? ‘Brashen Trell was my father’s first mate on the Vivacia. After I signed aboard the Reaper, I found out he was part of her crew, too. When he discovered I was aboard as ship’s boy…well. He had already made it plain to me back in Bingtown that he did not think I could cut it on my own.’

‘So. What did he do? Tell the captain?’ Grag asked when the silence had lengthened.

‘No. Nothing like that. He was just…watchful. That’s the word, I suppose. I had a tough time on that ship. Knowing he was watching me scrabble just to keep up made me feel…humiliated.’

‘He had no right to do that to you,’ Grag observed in a low voice. Two sparks of anger burned deep in his eyes. ‘Your father took him on when no one else would. He owes your family. The least he could have done was protect you rather than mock your efforts.’

‘No. It wasn’t like that, not at all.’ Suddenly she was defending Brashen. ‘He didn’t mock me. Mostly he ignored me.’ When Grag’s expression became even more indignant, she hastily clarified, ‘That was how I preferred it. I did not want special treatment. I wanted to make it on my own. And I did, eventually. What bothered me was that he was a witness to how hard I had to struggle…I don’t know why we’re even talking about this.’

Grag shrugged. ‘You brought it up, not I. There had always been a bit of speculation as to why your father took Brashen Trell on when his own family had given up on him. He’d been in enough trouble over the years that when his father threw him out, no one was really surprised.’

‘What kind of trouble?’ Althea heard the avidity in her own question and toned it down. ‘I was just a girl when that happened, with little interest in Bingtown gossip. Years later, when he hired aboard the Vivacia, my father did not speak of it. He said a man deserves to be judged on who he is, not who he was.’

Grag was nodding to himself. ‘It wasn’t a noisy scandal. I know about it mostly because we schooled together. It started out in small ways. Pranks and silliness. As we got older, he was always the boy who would slip away when the master’s back was turned. At first, it was just to avoid lessons, or go to the market and buy sweets. Later he was the boy who seemed to know more than the rest of us about things like girls and cindin and dice games. My father still says it was Trell’s own fault his son went bad. Brashen always had too much money to spend and too much free time to amuse himself. No one drew a line with him. He’d get into mischief, like gambling more money than he had, or being drunk somewhere public in the afternoon, and his father would drag him home and threaten him.’

Grag shook his head. ‘He never carried out his threats. A day or so later, Brashen would be on the loose, doing the same things again. Trell always said he was going to cut off his credit, cane him, or make him work off his debts. However, he never did. I heard his mother would always weep and faint when his father tried to punish him. He got away with everything that he did. Until one day Brashen came home and found the door closed to him. Just like that. Everyone, including Brashen, thought it was a bluff. We all expected the storm to blow over in a day or so. It didn’t. A few days later, old man Trell made it known that he had officially recognized his younger son as his heir and disowned Brashen entirely. The only surprising thing about the whole affair was that Trell finally drew a line and stuck to it.

‘For a time, Brashen was around town, staying wherever he could, but he soon wore out his welcome and ran out of money. He got a reputation for leading younger boys into trouble and wild ways.’ Grag grinned knowingly. ‘Both I and my younger brother were forbidden to associate with him. Soon no one wanted to be connected with him. Then he disappeared. No one knew what became of him.’ Grag made a wry face. ‘Not that anyone much cared. He left many debts behind him. By then folk knew he did not intend to pay them off. So he was gone. Most people felt Bingtown was a better place without him.’ Grag looked aside from her. ‘After he left, there was a rumour that a Three Ships girl was carrying his child. The baby was stillborn; a mercy, I suppose. The girl was still ruined.’

Althea felt faintly ill. She hated to hear Grag so disparage Brashen. She wanted to deny what he said of the man, but he obviously spoke with an insider’s knowledge of the truth. Brashen had not been an ill-used, misjudged youth. He had been a spoiled eldest son without discipline or morals. Her father had taken him on years later and under her father’s control, he had become a decent man. Without her father, he had reverted. She had to admit to herself that was true. The drunkenness, the cindin. The whoring around, she added harshly to herself.

Ruthlessly she stripped the truth of her foolish embroideries. She had been pretending he had been infatuated with her when he bedded her. The truth was that she had been behaving like a slut and she’d found the partner she deserved. To prove it to herself, all she had to do was think about how they had parted. The moment he realized that she had come to her senses and was not going to allow him her body, he had turned against her. Shame flooded her. How could she have been so stupid and foolish? If he ever returned to Bingtown and spoke of what they had done, she would be ruined, just like the Three Ships girl that he had left in his wake.

Grag was unaware of her discomfort. He had crouched down by a chest at the foot of his bed and was rummaging inside it. ‘I’m ravenous. Since I have this supposed toothache, Cook has only been bringing me soup and bread to sop in it. Would you care for some dried fruit? Jamaillian apricots or dates?’

‘I’ve no appetite. Thank you.’

Grag stopped his rummaging and swivelled to face her with a grin. ‘Now that’s the first time you’ve sounded like a proper Bingtown Trader’s daughter since you came aboard. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed.’

Althea wasn’t sure if she was flattered or insulted. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh. Well.’ He brought the package of fruit out and sat down on his bunk with it. He patted the place beside him and she sat down. ‘There. You see,’ he exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Not only are we alone and unchaperoned, behind a closed door, but you fearlessly sit down on my bed beside me. When I told you Brashen left a woman pregnant, you do not go pale or rebuke me for speaking of such things. You look thoughtful.’ He shook his head, bemused.

‘You wear your hair sensibly on deck, I’ve seen you wipe your hands down your shirt front, and you went barefoot and trousered the whole time you were pretending to be a ship’s boy. Yet I can still remember a very feminine woman in my arms, perfumed like violets, and dancing as gracefully as…well, as gracefully as you scamper up the rigging. How do you do it, Althea?’ He leaned back against the bulkhead, but the way he looked at her seemed to bring him closer to her. ‘How do you move so easily in both worlds? Where do you really belong?’

‘Why must it be one or the other?’ she countered. ‘You are both a capable seaman and the son of a Bingtown Trader. Why should not I have both sets of skills?’

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘There. That is not the answer one would expect from a Trader’s daughter, either. At least, not one of our generation. A proper girl would be simpering over my compliment to her dancing, not asserting her ability to be a good sailor. You remind me of the tales Ophelia tells. According to her, there was a time when the women worked right alongside the men, in every trade, and sometimes excelled them.’

‘Anyone who knows the history of Bingtown knows that when our ancestors came to the Cursed Shores, each one had to scrabble for a living. You know that as well as I do.’ She felt a bit annoyed with him. Did he think she was improper?

‘I know it,’ he admitted quietly. ‘But there are a lot of women in Bingtown who would no longer admit that.’

‘Mostly because it is no longer fashionable. And mostly because their fathers or brothers would be ashamed of them if they did.’

‘True. However, watching you, I have come to see that they are false, not just to history but to life. Althea. Of late, my parents have been urging me to seek a wife. I was born late in their lives; they’d like to see grandchildren before they are too old to enjoy them.’

Althea listened in stunned silence. His sudden words shocked her. He could not be taking this conversation in that direction, could he?

‘When I’m in Bingtown, my mother invites Trader daughters and their mothers over to endless teas. I’ve obediently attended the gatherings and balls. I’ve danced with a few women,’ here he smiled at her warmly. ‘Several have seemed interested in me. Nevertheless, all the courtships I have begun have ended in disappointment. Always the same thing. My father looks at the woman I am seeing and asks me, “Will she be able to take care of herself and a household and children, while you are off sailing?” Then I look at her with that in mind, and no matter how lovely or witty or charming she is, she never seems strong enough.’

‘Maybe you are not giving the women a chance to prove themselves to you,’ Althea ventured.

Grag shook his head regretfully. ‘No. Two of them I asked directly. I reminded them that I expected to be someday the captain of the liveship Ophelia. How would it be, I asked, to know you must share me with a ship? A demanding and sometimes possessive ship, I added, to be honest. I reminded them I would be gone months at a time. That I might not be home when my children were born, or when the roof sprang a leak or harvest season came around.’ He shrugged eloquently. ‘One and all, they told me that surely I could arrange to be home more after we were married. When I said I could not, they refused my suit. Genver went so far as to come aboard the Ophelia, and suggest that she could sail with me after we were married, if I could triple the size of the captain’s room. But only until we had children. Then I would have to somehow arrange my life to be home more often than not.’

‘Did not you court anyone who was born into a liveship family? A girl who would understand what your ship meant to you?’

‘I danced with one once,’ he said quietly.

The silence held. If he expected her to say something, Althea had no idea what. Grag moved very slowly, as if he were afraid she would startle. With one finger, he touched her hand where it rested on the bed. A small touch, but it sent a shiver up her arm even as dismay filled her heart. She liked Grag and found him attractive, but this was no time for either of them to act on that. Had she invited this? How should she deal with it? Was he going to try to kiss her? If he did, would she let him?

She suspected she would.

Grag came no closer. His voice went deeper and softer. His blue eyes were gentle and confiding. ‘In you, I see a strong woman. One who could sail with me, or capably manage things ashore while I was gone. I see someone who is not jealous of Ophelia.’ He paused and smiled ruefully. ‘If anything, I am a bit jealous of how quickly she has become fond of you. Althea, I cannot imagine a better choice for a wife than you.’

Although she had been anticipating his words, they still stunned her. ‘But…’ she began, but he lifted a warning finger.

‘Hear me out. I have been giving much thought to this, and I see advantages for you, as well. It is scarcely a secret that the Vestrit fortunes have not prospered lately. The Vivacia is not yet paid for; that leaves you as ransom to the family’s debt. It is also well known that the Rain Wild Traders would not consider taking a woman who is already married, or who has pledged marriage. Simply by considering my offer, you could put yourself out of their reach.’ He watched her face carefully. ‘We are a wealthy family. My wedding gift to your mother would be substantial, enough to secure her old age. You have made it clear you have no faith that Kyle will care for her.’

Althea found it hard to speak. ‘I don’t know what to say. We’ve talked as friends, and yes, we’ve flirted a bit, but I had no notion that your feelings ran strong enough to propose marriage.’

Grag gave a small shrug. ‘I’m a cautious man, Althea. I see no sense in letting my feelings run ahead of me. In this stage of our relationship, I see planning rather than passion as what we must first share. We should be talking honestly with one another, to see if we share the same ambitions and goals.’ He was watching her face carefully. As if to give the lie to these words, he touched her hand again with one fingertip. ‘Do not think I don’t feel an attraction towards you. You must know that I do. Nevertheless, I am not the sort of a man who would fling his heart where his head had not gone first.’

He was so serious. Althea tried for a smile. ‘And I feared you were going to try to kiss me.’

He returned her smile, shaking his head. ‘I am not an impulsive boy, nor a rough sailor. I would not kiss a woman who had not given me her permission to do so. Besides, there is no sense in taunting myself with what I cannot yet claim.’ He looked aside from her startled expression. ‘I hope I have not spoken too crudely. Despite the rough shipboard life you have shared, you are still a lady and a Trader’s daughter.’

There was no way to share with him the thought that had suddenly flashed through her mind. She knew, with vast certainty, that she would never desire to be kissed by a man who had first asked her permission. ‘Permission to come aboard’ some impish part of her mind whispered, and she fought to keep from grinning. Perhaps, she suddenly thought, Brashen had already ruined her, but not in the social sense. After the sailor’s matter-of-fact declarations of his desire, Grag’s restrained and polite courtship seemed almost silly. She liked the man, truly she did. Yet, his careful negotiations left her unmoved. Abruptly, the situation was impossible. And as if Sa knew that there was no way Althea could rescue herself, fate suddenly intervened.

‘All hands on deck!’ someone roared in a voice that mixed both indignation and fear. Althea did not hesitate as she plunged out the door, nor did Grag even pause to put his toothache binding about his jaws. All hands meant all hands.

The crew of the Ophelia lined the bow railing, looking down. When she joined them, Althea was incredulous at the sight that met her eyes. A Chalcedean war galley, flying the Satrap’s colours, was challenging Ophelia’s passage. The size comparison between the two ships might have been laughable were it not that the galley bristled with soldiers and their weaponry. The smaller, lighter galley confronting them was far more manoeuvrable than the cog. Such a vessel was often swifter than a sailing ship as well. In the light evening breeze, Ophelia could not avoid and outrun such a ship. The galley had run up to her on the windward side, taking advantage of the light breeze that pressed the ships together. They had no choice now; they would have to deal with the galley. The liveship’s figurehead stared down at the Chalcedean’s horse-prowed ship, still and shocked. Ophelia’s arms were crossed stubbornly on her chest. Althea lifted her eyes to scan the horizon. The Chalcedean appeared to be operating alone. Captain Tenira shouted down, ‘What mean you by barring our way?’

‘Throw down a line. In the name of your Satrap, we will board you!’ declared a bearded man standing in the galley’s bow. His blond hair was bound back in a long tail down his back, and battle trophies – finger bones bound with hanks of hair – decorated the front of his leather vest. Missing teeth gapped his threatening snarl.

‘On what grounds?’ Althea demanded of those around her, but Captain Tenira did not bother with such questions.

‘No. You will not. You have no authority over us. Stand aside.’ The Trader captain stood firm, looking down on the galley. His voice was even and strong.

‘In the name of the Satrap, throw down a line and submit to boarding.’ The Chalcedean smiled up at them, more teeth than affability. ‘Do not make us take you by force.’

‘Try,’ Captain Tenira suggested grimly.

The captain of the galley took a handful of documents from his mate. He waved the bundled tube of scrolls up at Tenira. A red ribbon bound them, weighted with a heavy seal of crimped metal. ‘We have authority. Right here. We shall bring our writs aboard to prove it. If you are an honest ship, you have nothing to fear. The Satrap has allied with Chalced to stop piracy in the Inside Passage. We are authorized by him to stop any suspicious ship and search for stolen goods and other signs of pirate activity.’ While the captain was speaking, several of his men had stepped forward with coils of line and grappling hooks.

‘I’m an honest Bingtown Trader. You have no call to stop me, nor will I submit to a search. Be out of our way!’

The grapples were already spinning, and as Captain Tenira finished speaking, three were launched towards the Ophelia. One fell short as the liveship sidled to one side. Another landed well on the deck but was immediately seized and thrown back by the Ophelia’s crew before it could be set in her wood.

Ophelia herself caught the third. In a sudden motion, she plucked it out of the air as it whirred past her. With a shout of anger, she gripped the line below the grapple and snatched up the rope. The man who had thrown it came with it, kicking and cursing in surprise. She disdainfully threw grapple, rope and sailor aside into the water. She set her fists to where a woman’s hips would have been. ‘Don’t try that again!’ she warned them angrily. ‘Get out of our way or I’ll run you down!’

From the galley came cries of amazement and fear. While many had undoubtedly heard of the liveships of Bingtown, few Chalcedean sailors would have ever seen one before, let alone seen one angered. Liveships seldom frequented the ports of Chalced; their trade routes were to the south. From the galley, a line was thrown to the Chalcedean sailor struggling in the water.

On board the Ophelia, Captain Tenira bellowed, ‘Ophelia, let me handle this!’ while on the galley deck below them the Chalcedean captain angrily called for firepots to be prepared.

Ophelia paid no attention to her captain. At the mention of firepots, she had first gasped, then shrieked her wordless anger when she saw the smoking pots of tar brought out on his deck. For them to be readied so swiftly meant that the captain of the galley had had them prepared from the beginning. ‘In Sa’s name, no!’ Althea cried as she saw the pots readied for launching. Arrows were thrust headfirst into the small, fat pots; fuses of charred linen dangled. They would be lit before the arrows were released, and given time to ignite the contents of the pots. When the pots of grease and tar struck Ophelia, they would shatter, and the flames would leap up. Ophelia could not avoid them all, and every liveship was vulnerable to fire. It was not just for her rigging and decks that Althea feared, but for Ophelia herself. The only liveship that had ever died had perished in a fire.

The Ophelia was a trading cog, not built for fighting of any kind. Pirates seldom menaced liveships. It was well known that a liveship could out manoeuvre and out sail any ordinary ship of her kind. Althea doubted that anyone had ever challenged Ophelia for right of passage before, let alone demanded to board her. She carried no weaponry; her sailors had no experience in turning aside this kind of a threat. As Tenira shouted the orders that would veer Ophelia to one side, men raced to obey. ‘It won’t be enough,’ Althea said in an undertone to Grag at her side. ‘They’ll set fire to us.’

‘Get oil from belowdecks. We’ll throw firepots of our own!’ Grag commanded angrily.

‘And draw water for fire-fighting!’ Althea shouted. ‘Grag. A spare spar, an oar, anything. Give Ophelia something to use to fight them! Look. She’s not going to back down.’

While her decks bustled with frantic activity, Ophelia again took matters into her own hands. Despite the man on the wheel, she leaned towards the galley, not away. She stretched forth both her arms, and as the Chalcedean firepots were kindled and the bows drawn, she slapped wildly at the galley like an infuriated schoolgirl, all the while shrieking insults. ‘You Chalcedean pigs! Do you think you can stop us in our own waters? You lying sons of whores! You are the true pirates, you slave-mongering vermin!’ One of her windmilling slaps connected. Her great wooden hand struck the painted horse that was the galley’s figurehead. Instantly her fingers closed on it. She thrust down on it savagely, a wild motion that pitched the decks of both ships. Sailors on both vessels cried out as they were flung off their feet. The smaller galley suffered the most. Ophelia released the bow abruptly so that the ship reared back up, a crazed rocking horse of a vessel. The drawn bows went off, the tar pots flying wildly. One shattered and ignited the galley’s own deck; two flew across Ophelia’s decks to douse themselves in black smoke and steam on the other side of her.

One struck her on her starboard bow. Without hesitation, the ship slapped at the burning smear. She pulled back her hand and the tar on her hull flamed up again. She screamed as her fingers ignited suddenly.

‘Smother the flames!’ Althea yelled to her as crewmembers poured water down her hull in an effort to put out the fire on her bow. Ophelia was in too much panic to heed her. She bore down suddenly on the galley, her sheer will defying her rudder, and with her flaming hands caught hold of the smaller boat. She shook it like a toy, then flung it contemptuously aside. She left most of the burning residue from her hands on the other ship. As she let go of it, she clasped her great hands together. Gritting her teeth savagely, she clenched her hands into fists, squeezing out the flames that had seared her. Then, like an affronted lady lifting her skirts and storming out of the room, she suddenly answered both helm and sails. She turned aside from the troubled galley, opening the water wide between her and the smaller vessel. She tossed her head as she sailed past it.

Flames roared, and black smoke billowed up in harmony with the cries of the sailors trapped on the burning ship. Some one or two had the wind and the will to shout threats after Ophelia, but the noise of the fire shushed their words into unintelligible cries. The Ophelia sailed on.