“You have doubts now,” Selden spoke to her silent qualms. “But you will see. The welfare of the dragon is in the best interests of the Rain Wilds, as well.”

“Well,” Jani replied at last. “In that, perhaps, we shall have to trust to your mother’s judgment, as she represents us.”

“This is a weighty responsibility,” Keffria wavered.

“We are well aware of that,” Jani replied smoothly. “And such a task should not be undertaken without recompense.” She hesitated. “At the beginning, we would be hard pressed to pay you in coin. Until trade with the outside world is restored, I fear we must go back to bartering.” She glanced about the room. “Household goods we have in plenty. Do you think we could work out a suitable exchange?”

A spark of hope kindled in Ronica’s eyes. “I am sure we could,” Keffria replied almost immediately. With a rueful laugh she added, “I can think of no household goods that we could not find a use for.”

Jani smiled, well-pleased with herself. She had feared it would seem too much as if she were buying Selden from his family. In truth, she felt she had struck that best of all bargains, the one in which each Trader felt she had won the best of the trade. “Let us make a list of what you need most,” she suggested. She set a hand on Selden’s shoulder, taking care that it did not seem too possessive. “When we reach Trehaug, Selden can help me select what he thinks will suit you best.”

Liveship Traders 3 - Ship of Destiny

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Refitting

“SO. BACK ON THE BEACH AGAIN,” PARAGON OBSERVED.

“Not for long,” Amber assured him. She set her gloved hand briefly to his deck. It was a gesture of kindness, but a gesture only. She had slept deeply for a long time and he had looked forward to her awakening, to the sense of connection they had briefly shared. But that was not to be. He could not reach her, and could scarcely feel her. He was as alone as ever.

Brashen no longer trusted him. Paragon had tried to tell him that there was no damage below the waterline, but Brashen had insisted on beaching him. The captain had apologized stiffly, but said he would do the same with any ship as damaged as he was. Then he had run Paragon’s scorched body up onto a sandy beach. The tide had retreated, stranding him there with most of his hull bared. At least he was out of reach of the serpent and his endless circling. The creature’s nagging him toward revenge was maddening.

Brashen had tersely told what remained of the crew to make repairs. He stalked the deck, commanding with his presence but speaking scarcely a word, and the work proceeded, even if the men moved without spirit. The spare mast had been brought out and stepped. Shackles and fittings had been salvaged, sound bits of line spliced together and spare canvas and other supplies dragged out onto the deck. Ruined food stores were dumped over the side. The broken windows in the captain’s quarters were planked over. A crew had been sent ashore to cut timber for spars. The green lumber would be miserable to work with, but they had no alternative. There was no chatter, no chantey, no jesting. Even Clef was withdrawn and silent. No one had attempted to scrub the bloodstains from his deck. They walked around them, or stepped over them. The serpent venom had left pits and indentations in his wizardwood. It had stippled his face and left streaks down his chest. More scars for him to bear.

Amber, clothed in a loose garment made from a sheet, had toiled alongside the others, until Brashen had brusquely ordered her to take some rest. For a time, she had lain silently in her bunk. Then she had arisen, as if she could not bear to be still. Now she sat on the foredeck, laying out tools for her next task. She moved awkwardly, favoring the burned side of her body. He had become accustomed to her verbally sharing all she was doing, but today she was quiet. Paragon felt her preoccupation, but could not fathom it.

Kennit and the Vivacia were gone as if they had never been there. Only one serpent remained of the horde that had attacked him. The mild days since the storm’s passing made it all seem like a dream. But it was not. The dragons lurked in him, just below the surface. New blood marked his deck. Some of the crew were angry with him still. Or frightened. Sometimes, with humans, it was hard to tell the difference. It stung most that Amber was distant with him.

“I couldn’t help it,” he complained again.

“Couldn’t you?” Amber asked him unemotionally.

She had been like that all afternoon. Not accusing him, but not accepting anything he said either. His temper snapped. “No. I could not! And since you’ve pawed through my memories, you should understand that. Kennit is family to me. You know that now. You know everything now. All the secrets I vowed I would keep safe for him, you have stolen.”