The Satrap of all Jamaillia leaned his head back against the wall. His pallid skin and the dark circles under his eyes made him look more like a grievously ill child than a troubled ruler. “It’s no use,” he said hopelessly. “It is all too far away. No one in Jamaillia will rouse to my cause. My enemies are too many. I will be sold and slaughtered like a feast-day lamb.” He rolled his eyes to stare at her. “You see, Malta, not everything can be solved with your Trader’s ethic of buying and selling.”

An idea suddenly blossomed in her mind. “But what if it could, Magnadon Satrap?” She leaned forward tensely. “If, with my Trader’s ethic, I can save you and your throne, what would it be worth to me?”

“You cannot, so why even speculate?” He waved a lax hand at her. “Go away. Your idiotic idea of a stroll on a freezing deck has wearied me. I will sleep now.”

“You will not,” she retorted. “You will lie awake and pity yourself. So, instead of that, rouse yourself to my challenge. You say I cannot save you. I think I can. I propose a wager.” She lifted her chin. “If I save you, I am saved alongside you. You will give me an appointment to…”

“Oh, do not ask to be a Companion of my Heart. That would be too humiliating. As well ask me to wed you.”

A spark of anger flashed in her. “I assure you, I would not so humble myself. No. You will appoint me and my family as your representatives in Bingtown and the Rain Wilds. You will recognize Bingtown and the Traders there as an independent entity. To my family, to the Vestrits, will go the exclusive right to represent Jamaillian interests there.” A slow smile dawned on her face as the full brilliance of her idea shone in her mind. With such an accomplishment, she could return to Bingtown. No scar or shame would be remembered next to such a coup. It would be the ultimate bargain, the best trade that any dealer had ever struck. Even her grandmother would have to be proud of her. Even Reyn’s family might…

“You want all of Bingtown for yourself! That is a ridiculous wager!”

“Is it? I’m offering you both your throne and your life in exchange for it.” She cocked her head. “Bingtown’s independence is virtually a reality anyway. You would only be recognizing what already exists, and making it possible for Jamaillia and Bingtown to continue on friendly terms. Losing this wager would only mean that you had to take what is a wise course of action in any case.”

He stared at her. “So I have heard it argued before. I am not sure I agree with it. But how will you regain my freedom and my throne for me?”

“Show me my profit, and I will find the means.” She smiled. “Agreed?”

“Oh, agreed,” the Satrap snapped impatiently. “It is a ridiculous wager anyway, one that you cannot possibly win. I may as well agree to it.”

“And you will cooperate with me to help me win it,” she pressed.

He scowled. “And how must I do that?”

“By striving to present yourself to our captors as I direct you to, and by agreeing with what I shall tell them.” Excitement was building in her. The fatalistic defeat she had felt earlier in the evening had evaporated. So all she had left to her fortune was her wits. Perhaps that was all she had ever needed.

“What do you intend to tell them?”

“I am not sure of that just yet. But you started me thinking when you said there was no one in Jamaillia who would profit by returning you to power.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I think we must discover a way by which the pirates themselves will profit most by returning you to power.”

Liveship Traders 3 - Ship of Destiny

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - Kennit’s Women

SHE WHO REMEMBERS AND MAULKIN DID NOT ARGUE. SHREEVER ALMOST wished they would. That would have meant that at least one of them had reached a decision. Instead, they discussed endlessly what had happened, what might happen and what it might mean. In the tides since Maulkin’s tangle had refused to kill the other ship, the serpents had trailed after Bolt and waited to see what would happen next. Bolt herself had barely spoken to them, despite the nagging queries of She Who Remembers. The silver creature seemed caught in some dilemma of her own. Chafing under the indecisiveness, Shreever’s temper frayed like an outgrown skin. With every changing tide, she felt a sense of loss. Time flowed, leaving the serpents behind. She was losing strength and body weight. Worse, she could not keep her thoughts straight.

“I am dwindling,” she said to Sessurea as she swayed with the sea. They were anchored beside one another for the night. There was a nasty bit of current here; it stirred the silt constantly, making the water murky. “Tide after tide, we follow this ship. To what end? Maulkin and She Who Remembers swim always in her shadow, and speak only to one another. The toxins they waste on the ship’s hull taste strange, and bring us no prey. Repeatedly, they say we must be patient. I have patience, but what I have lost is endurance. By the time a decision is reached, I will be too weak to travel with the tangle. What does Maulkin wait for?”