“But now look at us. I’ve let you kill again. We’re sailing straight into pirate waters with a crew that can’t even get out of its own way. I haven’t a plan or a prayer for any of us to survive, and we draw closer to Divvytown with each wave we cut. I’m more alone than I’ve ever been in my life.”

Paragon had to break his silence to do it, but he could not resist setting one more hook into the man. “And Althea is furious with you. Her anger is so strong, it’s gone from hot to cold.”

He had hoped it would goad Brashen into fury. Anger he could deal with better than this deep melancholy. To deal with anger, all you had to do was shout back louder than your opponent. Instead, he felt himself the horrible lurch of Brashen’s heart.

“That, too,” Brashen admitted miserably. “And I don’t know why and she scarcely speaks to me.”

“She talks to you,” Paragon retorted angrily. Cold silence belonged to him. No one could do it so well as he, certainly not Althea.

“Oh, she talks,” Brashen agreed. ” ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘No, sir.’ And those black, black eyes of hers stay flat and cold as wet shale. I can’t reach her at all.” The words suddenly spilled out of the man, words that Paragon sensed Brashen would have held in if he could. “And I need her, to back me up if nothing else. I need one person in this crew that I know won’t put a knife in my back. But she just stands there and looks past me, or through me, and I feel like I’m less than nothing. No one else can make me feel that bad. And it makes me just want to…” His words trailed off.

“Just throw her on her back and take her. That would make you real to her,” Paragon filled in for him. Surely, that would bring a rise from Brashen.

Brashen’s silent revulsion followed his words. No explosion of fury or disgust. After a moment, the man asked quietly, “Where did you learn to be this way? I know the Ludlucks. They’re hard folk, tight with a coin and ruthless in a bargain. But they’re decent. The Ludlucks I’ve known didn’t have rape or murder in them. Where does it come from in you?”

“Perhaps the Ludlucks I knew weren’t so fastidious. I’ve known rape and murder aplenty, Brashen, right on my deck where you’re standing.” And perhaps I am more than a thing shaped by the Ludlucks. Perhaps I had form and substance long before a Ludluck set a hand to my wheel.

Brashen was silent. The storm was rising. A buffet of wind hit Paragon’s wet canvas, making him heel over slightly. He and the helmsman caught it before it could take him too far. He felt Brashen tighten his grip on the railing.

“Do you fear me?” the ship asked him.

“I have to,” Brashen replied simply. “There was a time when we were only friends. I thought I knew you well. I knew what folk said of you, but I thought, perhaps you were driven to that. When you killed that man, Paragon-when I saw you shake his life out of him-something changed in my heart. So, yes, I fear you.” In a quieter voice he added, “And that is not good for either of us.”

He lifted his hands from the railing and turned to walk away. Paragon licked his lips. The freshwater deluge of the winter storm streamed down his chopped face. Brashen would be soaked to the skin, and cold as only mortals could be. He tried to think of words that would bring him back. He suddenly did not want to be alone, sailing blindly into this storm, trusting only to a helmsman who thought of him as “this damned boat.”

“Brashen!” he called out suddenly.

His captain halted uncertainly. Then he made his way back across the rising and falling deck, to stand once more by the railing. “Paragon?”

“I can’t promise not to kill again. You know that.” He struggled for a justification. “You yourself might need me to kill. And then, there I’d be, bound by my promise….”

“I know. I tried to think of what I would ask you. Not to kill. To obey my orders always. And I knew you and I knew you could never promise those things.” In a heavy voice, he said, “I don’t ask for those promises. I don’t want you to lie to me.”

He suddenly felt sorry for Brashen. He hated it when his feelings switched back and forth like this. But he couldn’t control them. Impulsively, he offered, “I promise I won’t kill you, Brashen. Does that help?”

He felt Brashen’s convulsion of shock at his words. Paragon suddenly realized that Brashen had never even considered the ship might kill him. That Paragon would now promise thus made him realize that the ship had been capable of it. Was still capable of it, if he decided to break his word. After a moment, Brashen said lifelessly, “Of course that helps. Thank you, Paragon.” He started to turn away again.