Hunting had been bountiful lately; piracy had never been so effortless. Flanked by his flotilla of serpents, he need do no more than sight an interesting sail. He and Bolt selected their targets and she sent the serpents forth. An hour or two of harassment by the serpents, and the prey surrendered. At first, he had then closed on the demoralized ships and demanded surrender of all their valuables. The crews had always been subservient and willing. Without even a sword drawn, Kennit fleeced the vessels and then sent them on their way, with a stern reminder that these waters were now the province of King Kennit of the Pirate Isles. He suggested that if their rulers were interested in establishing generous tariffs to pass through his territory, he might be willing to treat with them.

The last two ships he had ordered the serpents to “fetch” for him. The Vivacia anchored until the serpents herded her victims to her. The last cap-tain had surrendered on his knees while Kennit sat enthroned on a comfortable chair on the Vivacia’s foredeck. Bolt delighted in the captive captain’s ill-concealed terror of her. After Kennit had made his selections from the ship’s manifests, the captured crew had seen to the cargo transfer. Kennit’s only concern would be to keep his own crew from becoming bored or complacent. From time to time, he planned to stop a slaver, to let the crew indulge their need for bloodshed and feed the serpents to increase their loyalty to him. ‘

Faldin’s message had arrived on a swift little ship named Sprite. Although Jola had recognized the ship and she had been flying Kennit’s raven flag, neither Kennit nor Bolt had been able to resist flaunting their power. The serpents had been sent forth to surround the small ship and escort it to Kennit. The captain had made a brave show of greeting Kennit but no amount of bravado could quite banish the quaver from his voice. The messenger had been pale and silent when he reached the deck of the Vivacia, for he had made the crossing in a tiny boat through the gleaming backs of serpents.

Kennit had taken the missive and dismissed the messenger to a “well-deserved ration of brandy.” Every man aboard the Sprite would carry word to Divvytown of Kennit’s new allies. It was well to impress one’s enemies with a show of strength. It was even better to be sure one’s friends remembered it as well. Kennit kept that in mind as he slowly surveyed the faces around him.

Sorcor’s brow furrowed as he endeavored to think. “Did Faldin know the skipper? He should. He knows damn near everyone in Divvytown, and it takes an experienced man to bring a ship up the slough, even in daylight.”

“He did,” Kennit confirmed easily. “One Brashen Trell, of Bingtown. I gather he did business in Divvytown last season on the Springeve with old Finney.” Kennit feigned glancing at the missive again. “Perhaps this Trell is an extraordinary navigator with an excellent memory, but Faldin suspects it was more the ship he used than the man. A liveship. With a chopped face. By name, Paragon.”

Wintrow’s face betrayed him. His cheeks had flushed at the name of Trell. Now he stood, tongue-tied and sweating. Interesting. Impossible that the lad was in league with Sincure Faldin; he simply had not had enough free time in Divvytown. So this was something else. As if by accident, he let his eyes meet the boy’s. He smiled mildly at him and waited.

Wintrow looked stricken. Twice his lips parted and closed again before he cleared his throat faintly. “Sir?” he managed in a whisper.

“Wintrow?” Kennit put warm query into his voice.

Wintrow crossed his arms on his chest. What secret, Kennit wondered, did he seek to hold inside? When Wintrow spoke, his voice was small. “You should heed Faldin’s warning. Brashen Trell was first mate to my grandfather, Captain Ephron Vestrit. Perhaps he truly seeks to join you, but I doubt it. He served aboard the Vivacia for years, and may still feel great loyalty to the Vestrits. To my family.”

At these final words, the boy’s fingers tightened on his arms. So there it was. Wintrow chose to be loyal to Kennit but still felt it as a betrayal of his family. Interesting. Almost touching. Kennit steepled his fingers on the table before him. “I see.” A vague shivering had passed throughout the ship at the mention of her old captain’s name. That was even more interesting than Wintrow’s divided loyalty. Bolt claimed that there was nothing left of the old Vivacia. Why, then, would she tremble at Captain Vestrit’s name?

Silence reigned. Wintrow stared down at the edge of the table. His face was very still, his jaw set. Kennit reflected, tossed up his last bit of information. He gave a small, resigned sigh. “Ah. That would explain the presence of Althea Vestrit among the crew. Deserters from the Paragon say that she intends to take Vivacia away from me.”