Mad Ship (24 page)

“That hurts?” Amber asked immediately.

“Not as humans hurt. It feels … wrong. Damaging.”

“I think there is sound wood just below the scorched surface. Working with my tools, I could remove what is blackened. I might have to reshape your hands a bit; you would end up with slimmer fingers than you have now. I could keep a good proportion, I believe, unless the damage goes much deeper than I think. However, you would have to endure that sense of damage, unflinching, while I did my work. I do not know how long it would take.”

“What do you think, Tomie?” the ship demanded of her captain.

“I think we have little to lose by trying,” he said gently. “If the sensation becomes unbearable, then Mistress Amber will stop, I am sure.”

Ophelia smiled nervously. Then a wondering look came into her eyes. “If your work on my hands is successful, then perhaps something could be done about my hair as well.” She lifted a hand to touch the long loose curls of her mane. “This style is so dated. I have often thought that if I could contrive ringlets around my face and … ”

“Oh, Ophelia.” Tomie groaned as the others laughed.

Amber had kept possession of one of Ophelia’s hands. Her head was still bent over it, examining the damage. “I may have great difficulty in matching the stain. Never have I seen stain that mimics so well the color of flesh without obscuring the grain of the wood. Someone told me that a liveship creates its own colors as it awakens.” She met Ophelia’s eyes without self-consciousness as she asked, “Will that happen again, if I have to plane so deep that I expose uncolored wood?”

“I do not know,” Ophelia replied quietly.

“This will not be the work of an afternoon,” Amber said decidedly. “Captain, you will have to give your watch permission to let me come and go. I shall keep this same guise. Is that acceptable?”

“I suppose so,” the captain conceded grudgingly. “Though it may be hard to explain to other Traders why such delicate work is entrusted to a slave, or why I use a slave’s labor at all. I oppose all slavery, you know.”

“As do I,” Amber replied gravely. “As do many, many folk in this town.”

“Do they?” Tomie replied bitterly. “If there is any great public outcry about it, it has escaped me.”

Amber lightly tapped her fake tattoo. “Were you to put on rags and one of these and stroll about Bingtown, you would hear the voices of those who oppose slavery most bitterly. In your efforts to waken Bingtown to its senses, do not ignore that pool of allies.” She selected a small block plane from her tote of tools and began to adjust the blade on it. “If one were interested in, say, the inner workings of the household of the tariff minister, willing spies might easily be found among that pool. I believe the scribe who composes his correspondence to the Satrap is a slave, also.”

A little shiver walked up Althea’s spine. How did Amber come to know such things, and why had she troubled to find them out?

“You speak as if you were knowledgeable about such things,” Captain Tenira pointed out gravely.

“Oh, I have known my share of intrigues and plotting. I find it all distasteful. And necessary. Just as pain is occasionally necessary.” She set the block to Ophelia’s palm. “Hold steady,” she warned her in a low voice. “I’m going to take off the worst of the damage.”

There was a tiny silence followed by a dreadful scraping noise. Charred wood powdered away. The smell reminded Althea of scorched hair. Ophelia made a tiny noise then lifted her eyes to stare out over the water. Her jaw was set.

Captain Tenira’s face was almost expressionless as he watched Amber work. As if inquiring about the weather, he asked Althea, “Did you deliver my message to your mother?”

“I did.” Althea pushed aside an emotion that was close to shame. “I’m sorry. I do not bring much that is of great comfort. My mother said she would speak to my sister Keffria. She is legally the Trader of the family now. Mother will urge her to attend the next Council meeting, and to vote in support of your actions.”

“I see,” Tenira replied. His voice was carefully empty.

“I wish my father were still alive,” Althea added miserably.

“I could wish that you were Trader for the Vestrits. Truly, you should have inherited your family’s ship.”

Althea revealed her deepest wound. “I do not know if Keffria can stand beside you at all.” A stunned silence followed her words. She kept her voice even as she added, “I do not know how she can side with you, and still support her husband. The increased tariffs are based on the Satrap protecting trade from pirates, but we all know it is the slave trade he cares most about. He never bothered about the pirates until they began attacking slavers. So, if the issue comes down to slavery, and she must take a stance … She … Kyle is trading in slaves. Using Vivacia as a slave ship. I do not think she would oppose her husband in this. Even if she does not agree with him, she has never had the will to set herself against him in anything.”

Then, “No-o-o,” Ophelia gasped. “Oh, how could they do such a thing! Vivacia is so young. How will she withstand all that? What was your mother thinking to allow this to happen? How could they have done that to their own family’s ship?”

Grag and Captain Tenira were both silent. A stony look of condemnation settled over the captain’s face while Grag looked stricken. The question hung in the air, an accusation.

“I don’t know,” Althea replied miserably. “I don’t know.”

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.