The light tread of running feet on his deck. Two slender hands on his railing. “Paragon? What is the matter?”

He could not tell her. She would not understand, and to speak would only break his promise more thoroughly than it was already broken. He bowed his face into his hands and sobbed, his shoulders shaking and his hands trembling.

“There, I told you, didn’t I? It’s him.” The voices came from below. Someone was down there on the water near the bow, staring up at him. Staring and jeering and mocking. Soon they would begin to throw things. Dead fish and rotten fruit.

“You down there, stand clear of our ship!” Amber warned them in a stern voice. “Take your gig away from here.”

They paid no attention. “If he was Igrot’s ship, then where is Igrot’s star?” another voice demanded. “He put that star on everything that belonged to him.”

The long-ago horror of the star being cut into his chest was eclipsed by the memory of a thousand inky needle-pricks jabbing the same emblem into his hip. He began to tremble. Every plank in his body shuddered. The calm waters of the lagoon shivered against him.

“Paragon. Steady, steady. It will be all right. Say nothing.” Amber spoke swiftly, trying to calm him, but her words could not take away the ancient sting.

“Star or not, I’m right. I know I am.” The man in the boat below sounded very smug. “The chopped face is a dead giveaway. Moreover, it’s a liveship, same as I’ve always heard the tales say. Hey! Hey, ship! You were Igrot’s ship, weren’t you?”

The insult of that vile lie was too much to bear. Too often had it been flung at him, too many times he had been forced to mouth it for the boy’s sake. Never again. Never!

“NO!” He roared the word. “Not I!” He snatched at the air in front of him, hoping that his tormentors were within reach. “I was never Igrot’s ship! Never! Never! Never!” He shouted the word until it rang in his own ears, drowning out every other lie. Below and above and within him, he heard confused shouts. Bare feet thundered on his decks but he didn’t care anymore. “Never! Never! Never!”

He barked the word out, over and over, until he could think of nothing else. If he never stopped saying it, then they could never ask him anything again. If they didn’t ask, he couldn’t tell. He could at least be that true to his word and his family.

THEY MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET IN EASY COMPANIONSHIP. THE RAIN HAD eased and a few stars were starting to show in the deep blue edge of the sky. The taverns were setting their lanterns out. Candlelight glowed behind the shuttered windows of small homes. Brashen’s arm was across her shoulders, and Althea’s was about his waist. Their day had gone well. Divvytown seemed to have accepted them at their word. If the information they had gathered was confusing, it still confirmed one thing. Kennit would return to Divvytown. Soon.

Establishing that had required several rounds of drink at the final tavern. They were now making their way back to the ship’s boat. They had not yet decided whether to slip quietly out of Divvytown tomorrow, or to stay on, perhaps even await Kennit’s return. The chance of ransoming Vivacia seemed small; deceit seemed a likelier tack. There were too many possible courses of action. Time to go back to the ship and consider them all.

Foot traffic in the town dwindled as folk sought shelter for the night. As they wended their way down the wooden boardwalk, a couple ahead of them turned into the door of a small house and shut the door firmly behind them. A few moments later, dim candlelight shone from within.

“I wish we were them,” Althea observed wistfully.

Brashen’s stride checked, then slowed. He pulled her around to face him and offered quietly, “I could find us a room somewhere.”

She shook her head regretfully. “The crew is waiting down at the boat. We told them to be there by nightfall. If we’re late, they’ll assume something has gone wrong.”

“Let them wait.” He bent his head and kissed her hungrily. In the chill night, his mouth was tauntingly warm. She made a small frustrated sound. “Come here,” he said gruffly. He stepped off the boardwalk into the thick dark of the alley and drew her after him. In the deep shadows, he pressed her back up against a wall and kissed her more leisurely. His hands wandered down her back to her hips. With abrupt ease, he lifted her. When his body pressed hers to the wall, she could feel the jut of his desire. “Here?” he asked her thickly.

She wanted him but this was too dangerous. “Perhaps if I were wearing a skirt. But I’m not.” She pushed gently away from him and he let her down, but kept her pinned against the wall. She did not struggle. His kiss and his touch were more intoxicating than the brandy they had shared. His mouth tasted of liquor and lust.