CHAPTER ELEVEN

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        
JUDGMENT

“Where could she be? What could she be doing?” Keffria worried.

“I don’t know.” Her mother replied testily.

Keffria looked down into the cup of tea she held. She forced her tongue to be still. She had nearly asked her mother if she was certain she had really seen Althea earlier. The last week had been so exhausting, she could have forgiven her mother for imagining the whole thing. That would be easier to forgive than her younger sister turning up and then abruptly vanishing again. It didn’t help her temper that her mother seemed simply to accept Althea’s outrageous behavior.

Her mother relented and added, “She told me she would be back before morning. The sun has scarcely gone down.”

“Does it not seem odd to you that a young, unmarried woman of a good family should be out and about on her own at night, let alone on her first night home after she has been missing for nearly a year?”

“No doubt that is so. It seems very like Althea to me, however. I’ve come to accept that I can’t change her.”

“No such leeway is allowed to me!” Malta interjected pointedly. “I am scarcely allowed to walk around Bingtown by myself by day.”

“That’s true,” Ronica Vestrit replied affably. Her needles ticked rhythmically against each other as she worked. She ignored Malta’s noisy exhalation of frustration.

They had dined early and were now sitting together in the study. No one had said that they kept vigil for Althea’s return. No one needed to. Her mother knit as if she were in some sort of race. Keffria had no such concentration. She stubbornly poked her needle through her embroidery and dragged another stitch into place. She would not let her sister upset her; she would not let the small peace she had found be stolen from her.

Malta did not even pretend to be constructively occupied. She had poked at their simple meal discontentedly and commented that she already missed Davad’s servants. Now she strolled about the room, trailing her fingers on the desk-top, picking up the smaller mementos of her grandfather’s sailing years, handling them and then putting them down. Her restlessness was an irritant to Keffria’s raw nerves. Keffria was glad Selden was abed, exhausted after the long week of company. Malta had thrived on it. Ever since the last carriage had pulled away down the drive, the girl had had a desolate look to her. She reminded Keffria of some sea-creature stranded by a retreating tide.

“I’m bored,” Malta announced, echoing her mother’s thought. “I wish the Rain Wild Traders were still here. They don’t sit about in the evening and do quiet work.”

“When they are at home, I am sure they do,” Keffria countered firmly. “No one has parties and games and music every night, Malta. You must not make that the basis for your relationship with Reyn.”

“Well, if he marries me and we have a home of our own, it will not be dull every night, I can tell you that. We shall have friends over to visit, and bring in musicians. Or we will go out to visit other friends. Delo and I have decided that when we are married women and free to do as we please, we shall often have …”

“If you marry Reyn, you will live in the Rain Wilds, not in Bingtown,” Ronica pointed out quietly. “You will have to make friends there, and learn to live as they do.”

“Why do you have to be so dismal?” Malta demanded sharply. “No matter what I say, you always say something to make it not so. I think you just want me to be unhappy forever!”

“The fault is not in what I say, but in the silly fancies you spin to start …”

“Mother. Please. I shall go mad if you two begin to bicker and snip tonight.”

A heavy silence followed. “I’m sorry. I do not wish Malta to be unhappy. I want her to wake up and see that she must choose to be happy within the framework of her life. These wild fancies of endless parties and entertainment are not …”

“No wonder Aunt Althea ran away!” Malta’s cry cut off her grandmother’s words. “All you can see ahead for anyone is boredom and toil. Well, my life is not going to be like that! Reyn has told me many exciting things about the Rain Wilds. When we go to visit his family, he is going to show me the ancient city of the Elder race, where flame jewels come from, and jidzin and other wonderful things. He has told me that there are places where you can go, and at a touch of your hand, you can light the chambers as they were of old. He says that sometimes he has even glimpsed the ghosts of the Elder folk coming and going on their errands. Not all can do that, only the very sensitive, but he says perhaps I have that skill. Very sensitive folk often do. Those most gifted can sometimes hear their music echoing still. He will dress me as befits a woman of the Khuprus family. I will not have to dust furniture or polish silver or cook food; there will be servants to do that. Reyn says … Mother, why are you smiling at me like that? Are you making fun of me?” Malta demanded indignantly.

“No. It’s not that at all. I was thinking that it sounds to me as if you like this young man very much.” Keffria gave her head a small shake. “I remember all the grand plans that your father and I made for our life together. Those dreams do not always come true, but the spinning of them is very sweet.”

“It sounds to me as if she likes the prospect of all he will bring her,” Ronica corrected softly. More gently, she added, “But there is nothing wrong with that, either. Young people who share the same dreams often make very good partners.”

Malta came back to poke at the fire in the grate. “Don’t talk as if it were all agreed upon, because it isn’t,” she said petulantly. “There are a lot of bad things about him. Not just his veil and gloves; who can even imagine what he really looks like? He also goes on and on about politics. One minute he is talking of parties and friends; the next he speaks of war with Jamaillia and how we must stand firm no matter how difficult life becomes. He talks as if that would be some big adventure! Moreover, he says slavery is evil, although I told him that Papa thinks it might be good for Bingtown and that Papa is rebuilding our fortune by selling slaves. He dared to say that Papa would have to change his ways and see that slavery is wrong and bad for our economy, too, and trade up the Rain Wild River instead!

“And he talks about having children as if I am to have a baby the day after we are wed! When I said we must have a house in Bingtown as well as in the Rain Wilds so we can visit often and see my friends, he laughed! He says that once I see the wonders of his city, I will forget all about Bingtown, and that we will not have our own house, but only a set of rooms in the great house the Khuprus family shares. So. I am not at all certain that I will choose Reyn.”

“It sounds as if you two talked a great deal about your future together,” Ronica ventured.

“He speaks as if it is all assured! When I tell him it is not, he smiles and asks why I love to torture him so. Are all men so obtuse?”

“Every one of them that I’ve ever known,” Ronica assured her complacently. Then, more seriously, she added, “But if you have decided to deny his suit, then you must tell us so. The sooner the courtship is broken off, the least discomfort to both families.”

“Oh … I haven’t decided. Not really. It may take me a while.”

The room fell silent as Malta considered her prospects and the two older women privately contemplated what her choices might mean to them.

“I wish I knew where Althea was,” Keffria heard herself say again.

Her mother sighed.

Althea set her mug down. There was very little left of the roast fowl on the table before them. Across the table from her, Amber set her knife and fork carefully across her plate. Jek leaned back in her chair and picked at something caught in her teeth. She caught Althea watching her and grinned. “You don’t have any big brothers at home, do you?” she teased. “Eyes such as yours are wasted on a woman.”

“Jek,” Amber rebuked her amusedly. “You are making Althea uncomfortable. Why don’t you go stroll about Bingtown for a bit? We have some serious talking to do.”

Jek pushed up from the table with a grunt. She rolled her shoulders and Althea heard the crackling of muscle. “Take my advice. Do some serious drinking instead. Serious talking is no way to spend your first evening back in your home town.” When she grinned, her teeth were white as a carnivore’s.

“Who knows? It may come to that as well,” Amber conceded affably. She watched Jek tug on her boots and then find a light cloak. As soon as the door closed behind her, Amber leaned forward on her elbows. She pointed a long finger at Althea. “Continue from where you left off. And this time, don’t bother to gloss over the parts where you feel you behaved badly. I’m not asking this of you so I can judge you.”

“Why are you asking this of me?” Althea asked. To herself, she wondered why she was granting this to Amber. She still knew relatively little about the woman. Why was she favoring her with a detailed account of her travels and experiences since the last time she had seen her?

“Ah. Well. I suppose that is a fair trade, considering all I’ve asked you.” Amber took a breath as if putting her words in order. “I cannot leave Bingtown. I must do things here. But the timing of those tasks is dependent on events that are happening elsewhere. In Jamaillia and the Inside Passage, for instance. So I ask you to tell me what changes you have seen in those places.”

“That tells me nothing at all,” Althea pointed out quietly.

“I suppose it doesn’t. Let me be blunt then. I am dedicated to bringing about certain changes. I wish to see an end to slavery, not just in Bingtown, but in all of Jamaillia and Chalced as well. I wish to see Bingtown shake off Jamaillian rule. And I wish, most of all, to solve the riddle of the dragon and the serpent.” She smiled significantly at Althea as she said this. She tapped first the dragon earring she wore in her left ear and then the serpent that swung from her right. She raised an eyebrow at Althea and waited in anticipation for her response.

“The dragon and the serpent?” Althea queried, baffled.

Amber’s face changed. A terrible dread washed over it, followed by a look of weariness. She leaned back in her chair. She spoke quietly. “When I finally said that to you, you were supposed to leap to your feet and look startled. Or perhaps shout, ‘Aha!’ or shake your head in wonderment and then explain it all to me. The last thing I ever imagined you doing was sitting there being politely puzzled.”

Althea shrugged. “Sorry.”

“The words have no significance to you at all? The dragon and the serpent?” There was a desperate note in Amber’s voice.

Althea shrugged again.

“Think hard,” Amber begged. “Please. I have been so certain that you were the one. Certain dreams have shaken that conviction from time to time, but when I saw you again on the street, surety leapt up in me once more. You are the one. You have to know. Think. The dragon and the serpent.” She leaned forward on the table and fixed Althea with a pleading stare.

Althea took a deep breath. “Dragon and serpent. All right. On one island in the Barrens, I saw a rock formation that is called the Dragon. And our ship was attacked by a sea serpent on the way home.”

“You mentioned nothing of a dragon when you told me about your time on the Barrens!”

“It didn’t seem significant.”

“Tell me now.” Amber’s eyes burned with a cat-like intensity.

Althea leaned forward and replenished her mug from the earthenware pitcher of beer on the table. “There’s not much to tell. We camped in the lee of it when we were working the slaughter. It is just a big rock that sticks out of the earth. When the light hits it right, it looks like a dead dragon. One of the older hands spun a yarn that it was really a slain dragon and that if I climbed up there, I’d find an arrow in its chest still.”

“Did you?”

Althea grinned sheepishly. “I was curious. I climbed up on its chest one night. Reller had told the truth. Its forelegs were clutching at an arrow sticking out of its chest.”

“Then it wasn’t just an accidental formation of stone? It truly had forelegs?”

Althea pursed her lips. “Or maybe some sailors with a bit of time on their hands had ‘enhanced’ it a bit. That was my opinion. Reller’s claim was that that thing had been sprawled there for ages and ages. But the arrow shaft didn’t look weathered or splintered. It was as nice a piece of wizardwood as I’ve ever seen. The only surprising thing to me was that no one had ever taken it. But sailors are a superstitious lot, and wizardwood has a dangerous reputation.”

Amber sat as if transfixed.

“The serpent—” Althea began, but “Hush!” Amber ordered her. “I need to think a moment. A wizardwood arrow. Is that what all this has been about? A wizardwood arrow? Shot by whom, and when? Why?”

Althea had no answers to any of that. She lifted her mug and took a long drink. When she set it down, Amber was smiling at her. “Go back to your tale, and finish it for me. Put in the serpent when you come to him, and tell me as much about him as you can. I promise to be a good listener.” Amber tipped a small measure of golden brandy into her own glass and leaned back expectantly.

Jek was right. The beer pitcher had been emptied twice and Amber’s bottle of brandy was seriously lightened before the tale was told. Amber went over Althea’s account of the serpent attacking the ship several times. She seemed interested in how its spittle had eaten through cloth and flesh, and nodded to herself at Brashen’s assertion that it was not a mere predatory attack, but a thinking creature bound on vengeance. Nevertheless, Althea sensed that nothing in that part of her tale rang Amber’s interest as the wizardwood arrow had. At last, even Amber’s questions seemed to run out. The flames in the grate had burned low. Althea returned from a trip to the back-house to find Amber spilling the last of the brandy into two small glasses. Carved wooden holders, obviously the work of Amber’s hands, twined ivy leaves around the glasses.

“Let us drink,” Amber proposed. “To all that is right with the world. To friendship, and good brandy.”

Althea lifted her glass but could not think of anything to add to the toast.

“The Vivacia?” Amber suggested.

“I wish her well, but until her decks are under my feet again, she is tangled with all that is most wrong in my world.”

“To Grag Tenira?” Amber proposed facetiously.

“That is also too complicated.”

Amber grinned broadly. “To Brashen Trell!”

Althea groaned and shook her head, but Amber raised her glass anyway. “Here’s to irresponsible men who give in to their passions.” She drained off her brandy. “So women can claim it was none of their doing.”

This last she uttered just as Althea had given in and was tossing her brandy down. She choked and sputtered. “Amber, that’s not fair. He took advantage of me.”

“Did he?”

“I told you,” Althea replied stubbornly. Actually, she had told Amber very little, other than to admit with a shrug that it had happened. At the time, Amber had let it pass with but a raised eyebrow. Now she met Althea’s glare with a steady gaze and a small knowing smile. Althea took a breath. “I had been drinking, and drugged beer at that, and I’d taken a good blow to the head. Then he gave me some of his cindin. And I was cold and wet and exhausted.”

“All of that was true of Brashen as well. I’m not finding fault, Althea. I don’t think either of you needs to make excuses for what happened. I think you shared what you each needed most. Warmth. Friendship. Release. Acknowledgment.”

“Acknowledgment?”

“Ah, so you agree to the first three without question?”

Althea didn’t answer the question. “Talking to you is a balancing act,” she complained. Then, “Acknowledgment of what?” she demanded.

“Of who you are. What you are.” Amber’s voice was soft, almost gentle.

“So you think I’m a slut, too.” The effort at putting humor in her voice fell flat.

Amber considered her for a moment. She tipped back on her chair, balancing it on two legs. “I think you know what you are. You don’t need my opinion. All you have to do is look at your daydreams. Have you ever fancied yourself settled down, a wife and mother? Ever wondered what it will be like to carry a babe within you? Do you dream of taking care of your wee ones while awaiting your husband’s return from sea?”

“Only in my worst nightmares,” Althea heard herself admit with a laugh.

“So. If you never truly expect yourself to be a settled wife, do you expect that you will live all your life knowing nothing of men?”

“I hadn’t given much thought to it.” She pulled her beer mug closer.

Amber snorted. “There is a part of you that thinks of little else, did you but care to admit it. You simply don’t want to accept the responsibility for it. You’d like to pretend it is just something that happens to you, something a man tricked you into doing.” She returned her chair to the floor with a thump. “Come on,” she invited Althea. “The tide is rising and I’ve an appointment.” She gave a small belch. “Walk with me.”

Althea rose. She could not decide if Amber’s words had offended or amused her. “Where are we going?” she asked as she accepted a ragged coat.

“The beach. I want you to meet a friend of mine. Paragon.”

“Paragon? The ship? I know Paragon well!”

Amber smiled. “I know you do. He spoke of you one night. It was a slip of his tongue and I gave no sign of recognizing your name. However, even if he hadn’t, I would have known. You left signs of your stay aboard him. They were mixed in with Brashen’s things.”

“Like what?” Althea demanded suspiciously.

“A little hair comb I had seen you wearing the first time I noticed you. It was left perched on a window ledge, as if you had stood there to fix your hair and then forgotten it.”

“Ah. But what have you to do with the Paragon?”

Amber measured her reaction as she said, “I told you. He’s my friend.” More cautiously, she added, “I’m in the process of buying him.”

“You can’t!” Althea declared, outraged. “The Ludlucks cannot sell their liveship, no matter how he has disgraced himself!”

“Is there a law against it, then?” Amber’s voice was inquisitive, nothing more.

“No. There has never been any need to make such a law. It is the tradition of Bingtown.”

“Many of Bingtown’s most venerated traditions are giving way before the onslaught of the New Traders. It is not publicly noised about, but anyone in Bingtown who cares about such things knows that the Paragon is up for sale. And that bids from New Traders are being considered.”

Althea was silent for a time. Amber put on a cloak and drew a hood well up over her pale hair. When Althea spoke, her voice was low. “If the Ludluck family is forced to sell Paragon, they will sell him to other Old Traders. Not a newcomer like you.”

“I wondered if you would point that out,” Amber replied in a conversationally even voice. She lifted the bar on the back door and opened it. “Coming?”

“I don’t know.” Althea preceded her out the door, then stood in the dark alley as Amber locked up. The last few minutes of conversation with Amber had taken a decidedly uncomfortable turn. Most unsettling was the feeling she had that Amber had deliberately engineered this small confrontation. Was she trying to test their friendship? Or was there some larger agenda behind her needling? She chose her words carefully.

“I don’t think you are less, or not as good as I am, simply because I am Trader born and you are not. Some things are the sole province of the Bingtown Traders, and we guard those things jealously. Our liveships are very special. We feel the need to protect them. It would be hard to make an outsider understand all that our liveships are to us.”

“It is always difficult to explain that which you don’t understand yourself,” Amber retorted quietly. “Althea, this idea has to break through, not just to you but to all the Bingtown Traders. To survive, you will have to change. You will have to decide what things are most important to you, and preserve those things. You must accept the allies who share those values, and not be so suspicious of them. Above all, you must relinquish your claims to things that don’t belong to you. Things that don’t belong even to the Rain Wild Traders, but are the rightful heritage of all.”

“What do you know about the Rain Wild Traders?” Althea demanded. She peered at Amber in the dimness of the alley.

“Precious little. Your close-mouthed Bingtown traditions have seen to that. I suspect they plunder the cities of the Elderlings of their treasures, and claim that ancient magic as their own. Bingtown and the Bingtown Traders act as a shield to conceal a people unknown to the rest of the world. Those people delve deep into secrets they cannot grasp. They dismantle the hard-won knowledge of another folk and time, and market it as amusing trinkets. I suspect they destroy as much as they pilfer. Come on.”

Althea took a deep breath to reply, then clamped her jaws firmly. She followed Amber.

A brief silence fell. Then Amber laughed. “You see. You will not even tell me if my deductions are correct.”

“Those things are Bingtown Trader business. One doesn’t discuss it with outsiders.” Althea heard the coldness in her own voice but could not repent it.

For a time, they walked in false companionship. The revelry of the Night Market reached them as distantly as a memory of better times. The wind off the water was cold. In these hours before dawn, spring was forgotten. The world returned to the dark and chill of winter. Althea touched the bottom of despair. She had not realized how much she had valued her friendship with Amber until it was threatened.

Amber took her arm suddenly. The contact made the intensity of her voice more compelling. “Bingtown cannot stand alone,” she said. “Jamaillia is corrupted. The Satrap will cede you to Chalced, or sell you to New Traders without even a moment of consideration. He doesn’t care, Althea. Not about his honor, or his ancestor’s pledge or the people of Bingtown. He doesn’t even care about the citizens of Jamaillia. He is so engrossed in himself, he cannot perceive anything except as it relates to him.” Amber shook her head, and Althea thought she sensed a deep sadness. “He comes to power too young, and unschooled. He had great promise and much talent. His father took joy in his potential, and he charmed his teachers. No one wished to daunt that inquisitive spirit; he was allowed complete freedom in his explorations. No discipline was imposed on him. For a time, it was like watching an extravagant blossom unfold.”

Amber paused as if remembering a better time. She went on with a sigh, “But nothing thrives without limits. At first, the court was amused when he discovered the pleasures of the flesh and indulged in them. Characteristically, he set out to explore them all. Everyone supposed it was but a stage of his growth. It wasn’t. It was the end of his growth. Mired in pleasure, lost in all but the titillation of his own senses, he became ever more self-centered. Ambitious people saw it as a path to the future Satrap’s favor; they began to supply his desire. The unscrupulous saw it as a pathway to power. They taught him exotic new pleasures, ones they alone could supply. When his father died abruptly and he was catapulted into power, the strings of the puppet were already fixed. Since then, they have only become more confining.” Amber gave a mirthless laugh. “It is bitter. The young man who was never restricted by the walls of discipline is now choking on the leashes of his addictions. His enemies will rob his folk and enslave his lands, and he will smile as the dream herbs smolder in his chambers.”

“You seem well versed in this history.”

“I am.”

The brusqueness of her answer cut off Althea’s next question. She found a different one. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked in a low voice.

“To wake you up. Appeals to the Satrap’s honor, and reminders of ancient promises will not produce results. The diseases of power have eaten too deeply into the Satrap and the influential families of Jamaillia. They are too busy saving themselves and gathering what scraps of power they can to be interested in Bingtown’s plight. If Bingtown wishes to continue as it has, then it must find its own allies. Not just those of the newcomers who share Bingtown’s ideals, but the slaves brought here against their will, and … any others who share Bingtown’s enemies. The Rain Wild Traders must also step out from the shadows, not only to assert their rights but also to take responsibility for what they do.”

Althea halted suddenly in the street. Amber took another step, then stopped and looked back at her.

“I need to go home, to my family,” Althea said quietly. “All of what you say speaks to me, not only of Bingtown, but of my family’s predicament.”

Amber released her arm. “If I have made you see that those two things are connected, I have not wasted my time this evening. Another time, you will come to Paragon with me. And you will help me convince him that he must support my efforts to buy him.”

“First I will have to convince myself of that,” Althea cautioned her. She took satisfaction in knowing that Paragon had had the good sense to resist Amber’s efforts. As much as she liked her, there had to be a better buyer for the Paragon than she. Althea added that to her list of concerns. She would discuss it with Grag and his father when next she saw them.

“You will be convinced, if you open your ears and eyes. Go carefully, Althea, and reach home safely. Visit me when you can. Until then, be aware. Consider all that troubles Bingtown. Notice all that seems wrong to you, even that which does not seem to involve you. You will reach the same conclusions I have.”

Althea nodded at her. She didn’t speak. It saved her from having to say she would reach her own conclusions. What was best for her family would come first.

“Are we going to sit up all night?” Malta finally asked.

Keffria’s reply was surprisingly mild. “I’m going to stay up until Althea gets home. I know you must be tired, dear. It’s been quite a week for you. You can go to bed if you wish.”

“I thought you told me that Grandmother would start treating me more like an adult if I acted like one.” She kept an eye on her grandmother as she said this, and saw the small flicker of her eyes that said her barb had struck. It was time the old woman realized that she and her mother did talk together about such things. “I think if you are both going to stay up and talk to Aunt Althea when she gets home, I should, too.”

“As you wish,” her mother said wearily. She picked up the needlework she had set aside and looked at it.

Malta leaned back in her chair. She had curled her legs up and tucked her feet under her. Her back ached and her head pounded. She still smiled. It had been quite a week for her. She reached up and began to take her hair down. As she plucked the pins out and it cascaded darkly about her shoulders, she wondered what Reyn would think if he could see her like this. She imagined him sitting across from her, watching her hair slowly come down. He would tilt his head and his veil would move slightly when he sighed. He would toy with the fingertips of his gloves. He had confided to her that he found them more annoying than the veil. “To touch something, skin to surface, can tell one so much. A shared touch, skin to skin, can speak the words our mouths are not free to say.” He had held his hand out, as if inviting her to touch his gloved fingers, but she had not moved. “You could remove your gloves,” she had told him. “I would not be afraid.”

He had laughed lightly, his veil puffing out with his amusement. “I think there is not much you would fear, my little hunting cat. But that would not make it proper. I have promised my mother that this courtship will be proper.”

“Did you?” She had leaned forward, dropping her voice to a breathy whisper. “Do you tell me that to make me feel safe? Or to discourage me from attempting any impropriety?” She had let a tiny smile curl her mouth and lifted one brow. It was an expression often practiced in her mirror.

A slight movement of the lace over his face told her she had scored. That quick little intake of breath said he was both shocked and delighted at her boldness. But even better, past his shoulder, she glimpsed the dark scowl on Cerwin Trell’s face. She had given a throaty little trill of laughter, contriving that her whole attention seemed focused on Reyn as she watched for Cerwin’s reaction. Cerwin had snatched up a bottle of wine from a passing servant’s tray and refilled his own glass. He was far too well bred to slam the bottle down on the table at his elbow, but it had made an audible thud. Delo had leaned over to rebuke him, but he had brushed his sister’s remark away. What had he thought then? That he had been too timid in his suit? That he had missed his opportunity to have such a rare creature as Malta Haven smile at him like that?

Malta certainly hoped so. She thought of the simmering tension between the two men and a shiver ran over her. She was so glad she had been able to talk her mother into the farewell party before Reyn left. She had begged a chance to introduce her friends to him, saying she needed to see for herself if they could accept her Rain Wild suitor. It had been more successful than she had ever dared dream. One and all, the girls had been eaten up with jealousy to see her pampered so.

She had found a moment to slip aside with Delo and show her all the “small trinkets” that Reyn had managed to slip in with her approved gifts. The dragonfly perched motionless upon the flowers sent to her bedchamber had been artfully fashioned from precious metals and tiny gems. A tiny perfect deep blue flame gem had been inside a bottle of scent. A little basket of candied violets had been lined with what at first glance appeared to be a handkerchief. Shaken out, the fine sheer fabric was large enough to drape her bed. An unsigned note in its folds told her that Rain Wild women used such cloth to fashion their night garments for their bridal trousseau. An apple in a basket of fruit proved to be a clever deception. At a touch, it unfolded to present a string of water-opals and a tiny packet of silver-gray powder. The note with that directed her to place the powder in the dream-box ten days after his departure. When Delo had asked her what the dream-box did, Malta told her it sent her dreams that she and Reyn could share. Asked what sort of dreams, Malta had turned aside and managed a blush. “It would not be proper to speak of them,” she had whispered breathily.

No sooner had they returned to the festivities than Delo excused herself. A short time later Malta saw her in excited conversation with Kitten. The gossip had spread swiftly as a rising tide after that. Malta had seen it engulf Cerwin. She had refused to meet his eyes today, save for one glance. He had not hesitated to let her see the heartbreak in his gaze. She had sent him a stricken look of appeal. After that, she had feigned ignoring him. Enrapt in Reyn’s conversation, she had left it to her mother to make her farewells to the departing guests.

It was so delicious to wonder what Cerwin would do next.

She was broken from her musings by the soft working of the kitchen door. Her mother and grandmother exchanged a glance. “I left it unlatched for her,” Grandma Vestrit said quietly. They both got to their feet, but before they could move, a man entered the room. Keffria gave a gasp and stepped back in horror.

“I’m home,” Althea announced. She took off the ragged coat she was wearing and smiled at them all. Her hair was disgusting, bound flat to her head and then swinging behind her in a boy’s plait. The skin of her face was red and wind-chapped. She strode into the room and held her hands out to the fire as if she were perfectly at home here. She smelled of tar, oakum and beer.

“God of Fishes!” Keffria said, startling them all with the coarseness of the oath. She shook her head as she stared in dismay at her sister. “Althea. How can you do this to us? How can you do this to yourself? Have you no pride, no care at all for your family name?” She sat down heavily in her chair.

“Don’t worry about it. No one who saw me recognized me,” Althea retorted. She moved around the room like a stray dog sniffing. “You’ve moved Father’s desk,” she accused them all.

“The light is better by the window,” Grandmother said mildly. “The older I get, the harder it is to see fine lettering. It takes me four or five efforts to thread a needle now.”

Althea started to speak, then stopped. Her features changed slightly. “I am sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely. She shook her head. “It must be hard, to lose things you have always taken for granted.”

Malta was trying to watch them all at once. She saw her mother fold her lips tightly and guessed she was angered at how her complaint had been ignored. In contrast, Grandmother met Althea’s eyes without anger, only a grave sadness. Malta ventured a move. “You can’t know that no one recognized you. All you know is that no one showed that they had recognized you. Perhaps they were too ashamed for you to react.”

For an instant, Althea looked shocked that Malta had spoken at all. She narrowed her eyes. “I think you should remember your manners when you speak to your elders, Malta. When I was your age, I was not encouraged to speak out of turn when adults were conversing.”

It was like a spark to well-laid tinder. Malta’s mother surged to her feet and stepped between them. “When you were Malta’s age, as I recall clearly, you were a barefoot hoyden climbing around in the ship’s rigging and conversing freely with all kinds of people. And sometimes doing more than conversing.”

Althea’s face paled, making the smudges on it stand out more clearly. Malta smelled a secret there. Her mother knew something about Aunt Althea, something dirty. Secrets were power.

“Stop it.” Grandmother spoke in a low voice. “You two have been apart for almost a year, and the first time you are in a room together, all you do is spit at each other like cats. I haven’t stayed up all night to listen to you squabble. Sit down, all of you, and keep silent for a moment. I intend that you should listen to me.”

Her mother returned slowly to her chair and her grandmother sat down with a sigh. As if to pique her sister, Althea sank down to sit on the hearthstones. She crossed her legs like a tailor; for a woman in trousers to sit like that struck Malta as obscene. She caught Malta staring at her and smiled back. Malta caught her mother’s eye and gave a small shake of her head. Keffria gave a small sigh. Grandmother ignored it all.

“Instead of criticizing each other, we all need to look at our family’s situation and do what we can to improve it,” Grandmother began.

“Aren’t you even going to ask her where she’s been all this time and what she has been doing? We were worried to death about her! Now she comes dragging in, dirty and dressed like a man, and—”

“My niece is dressed like a woman, and is evidently being used as a lure to attract Rain Wild money. Why don’t we talk about family pride and the morality of that first?” Althea demanded tartly.

Grandmother stood up and walked between them. “I said it was my turn to speak. I am trying to talk about what is most important first, before we bog down in bickering. We all have questions. Those questions will keep until we have determined if we can act as a family. If we cannot, then there is no point to asking the questions.”

“If Althea had been here, as she should have been, she would know what we face,” Keffria put in quietly. “But, I am sorry to interrupt. I will hear you out, Mother.”

“Thank you. I will be brief. Some of this, Althea, I told you about earlier today, but not in detail. I think all of us need to consider our family’s situation, rather than our own individual concerns. We need to set aside our differences. Or at least conceal them. We must decide where this family stands, and then we must show that image to Bingtown. We can show no trace of dissent. We could not weather the slightest breath of scandal.”

Grandmother turned slightly so that her words were addressed more to Aunt Althea. “Althea, we are beset by our creditors. Our reputation is the only thing that keeps them at bay. Right now, they still believe that we will eventually pay them off, interest and all. Keffria and I—and Malta, I should add—have made many sacrifices to maintain an image of stability. We are living very simply. I have let go the servants, save for Rache. We have been doing for ourselves. We are not the only Bingtown Traders who have had to make this compromise, though few find themselves as straitened as we are. In some ways, it makes our situation worse. Many of our creditors are pinched; some who would have extended us understanding cannot afford to do so, for the sake of their own families.”

Grandmother went on and on. It was too familiar a litany to Malta. She had to fight to keep her eyes open. The only interesting thing was watching Aunt Althea as it was explained to her. Guilt and shame flickered across her face from time to time. Odd. Grandmother was not telling her that part of this was her fault, that if she had stayed at home properly she could have helped her family, but Althea still reacted as if the accusations had been spoken. When Grandmother spoke of how the Khuprus family had bought the note on the Vivacia and told her that there was no gracious way for little Malta to refuse the courtship, Althea even shot her a look of sympathy. Malta looked properly martyred in response.

Grandmother finished with, “I am sure you have noted the changes in the house and grounds. Now you know they were necessary sacrifices, not neglect. Althea, this is what I ask you to do. Stay home. Dress properly, behave sedately. If Keffria concurs, you might be helpful in managing some of the properties that demand a more active overseeing. Or, if you feel you need more … freedom, you could take over the little farm from my dowry. Ingleby is a quiet place, but cozy. It could benefit from someone taking an interest in it. You might find it satisfying to make a project of it, and see what you could—”

“Mother. That is not why I came home.” Althea sounded almost sad. “I don’t want a toy or a project. Nor do I wish to shame my family. I have come home to assist, but it will be in what I do best.” Althea looked past Grandmother and locked eyes with her sister. “Keffria, you know the Vivacia should have been mine. You have always known that. I come home to claim her, to rescue her from being abused as a slaveship, and use her to create income for the family.”

Malta leaped to her feet. “My father owns that ship. He will never allow you to take it from him.”

Althea caught her breath. Anger blazed in her eyes. For an instant, she clenched her jaws. Then she turned aside from Malta to address only Keffria. She spoke in an even voice. “My sister, you ‘own’ the ship. What becomes of it is solely up to you. Bingtown is not Chalced, to steal a woman’s wealth and give it to her husband. Moreover, you all heard Kyle vow before Sa that if I could but show him a ship’s ticket saying I am a worthy sailor, he would give the ship to me. I have that ticket, stamped with the likeness of the liveship Ophelia. Both her master and her mate will speak out as to my worthiness to command. I have been away nearly a year. In that time, this has been my only thought: not to shame my family, but to prove myself worthy of that which should have been mine without question.” Althea’s voice took on a note of appeal as she added, “Keffria, don’t you see? I have made it easy for you. Give me the ship. Kyle would be keeping his oath before Sa; you would be doing what you know is right. I give you my word, but I will commit it to writing if you wish: the profits from every voyage will go back into your estate, save enough for me to refit and sail again.”

Malta felt sickened at her mother’s expression. She was being swayed by Althea’s words. But before she could intervene, Althea thwarted herself.

“How could this be hard for you?” she demanded rhetorically. “Kyle may object, but all you have to do is stand up to him. You should have stood up to him a long time ago. This is family business, Vestrit business, Bingtown Trader business. It has nothing to do with him.”

“He is my husband!” Keffria cried out, affronted. “He has his faults, and I am sometimes angry at him. But he is not a pet, nor a piece of furniture. He is a part of my family. He is a part of this family. For good or ill, that bond exists, Althea. I am sick at how he is dismissed by you and Mother. He is my husband and the father of my children, and he truly believes he is doing what is right. If you cannot have any respect for him, could you not at least respect my feelings for him?”

“As he has respected mine?” Althea asked sarcastically.

“Stop it,” Grandmother broke in, her voice low. “This is what I fear, more than anything. That we cannot set aside our own differences long enough to preserve our family fortune.”

For a moment longer, the two daughters glowered at one another. Malta bit her tongue. She longed to leap up and say that Althea should just leave. What was she, anyway? A husbandless, childless woman, a dead branch on this family’s tree. She had no interest in the family’s fortune, save what riches it could bring to her. Malta and Selden were the ones most sharply affected by the mess that her grandparents’ mismanagement had caused. It seemed so logical to her: why could they not see it? Her father was the only strong man that remained to them. His children would profit most or suffer greatest from how the fortune was handled. He should be the one to make all the decisions. Oh, if only he were here.

But he was not. All Malta could do was to be his eyes and ears for him. When he came back, he would know all. She would not let him walk about vulnerable to the treachery of these power-hungry women.

Her grandmother had risen. She stood between her quarreling daughters. Slowly and silently, she extended a hand to each of them. Neither daughter was eager; each reluctantly took her hand. “This is what I ask of you,” she said quietly. “For now. Let our quarrels remain within our walls. Outwardly, let us act as one. Althea, Keffria, no action can be taken as regards the Vivacia until she returns to port. Let us, until then, do what we have not done for years. Let us live as a family in one house, putting all our efforts to our mutual good.” She looked from one daughter to another. “You are not so different from one another as you believe. I think that once you have seen what your united strength can do, you will have no wish to oppose each other. You have taken opposite positions, but there are many possible compromises. Once you have come to know one another again, you may be more open to them.”

The power her grandmother exerted over her daughters was almost palpable. A silence filled the room. Malta could almost feel them struggle to refuse. Neither would look at each other or their mother. Nevertheless, as the silence lengthened, first Althea and then Keffria lifted her eyes to the other. Malta clenched her hands into fists as their eyes met and something passed between them. What was it? A memory of long ago accord? An acknowledgment of duty to their family? Whatever it was, it bridged the gulf between them. There were no smiles, but the stubbornness faded from their mouths and eyes. Keffria lifted a traitorous hand toward her sister. Althea reached in surrender to take it. Grandmother heaved a vast sigh of relief. They closed the circle of family.

No one save Malta marked that she was excluded from it.

Coldness burned inside her as Ronica promised them, “You will not be sorry you tried. I promise you that.”

Malta showed her bitter smile only to the dying fire. She had promises of her own to keep.