Wintrow expected an outburst at those words, but Etta stood silent. She looked different. Slowly he realized the change in her. Usually, when she looked at Kennit, her eyes shone and a glow of love suffused her. Now she stared at him, and it was as if her life were draining out of her. When she spoke, her capitulation was complete. “You are right. Yes. That would be best.” She lifted her hands and rubbed her face as if awakening from a long dream. Then, without another word or glance, she left the room.

Wintrow stared after her. This could not be happening None of it made sense to him. Then, “Well?” Kennit demanded icily. His cold blue stare swept Wintrow head to foot.

Wintrow came to his feet. His mouth was dry. “Sir, I don’t think you should send Etta away, not even for her own safety. Instead, as soon as possible, we should remove Althea from the ship. Her mind is turned. Please, sir, take pity on the poor woman and let me send her home We are only a few days from Divvytown. I can pay her passage home on one of the trading vessels that comes to Divvytown now. The sooner she is gone, the better for all of us.”

“Really?” Kennit asked dryly. “And what makes you think you have any say at all in what I do with Althea?”

Wintrow stood silent, numbed by Kennit’s words.

“She is mine, Wintrow. To do with as I will.” Kennit turned away from him and began to disrobe. “Now. Fetch me a shirt. That is all I require of you just now. Not thinking, not deciding, not even begging. Fetch me a clean shirt and lay out trousers for me. And get me something to clean this cut.” As Kennit spoke, he was unbuttoning his soiled shirt. His jacket already lay on the floor. Without thinking about it, Wintrow moved to obey him. The anger coursing through him obliterated all thought. He set out the clean clothing, and then found a cloth and cool water for Kennit. The cut was small, and already closed. Kennit wiped the blood from his brow and tossed the wet cloth disdainfully to the floor. Wintrow retrieved it silently. As he returned it to the washbasin, he found the control to speak again.

“Sir. This is not a good time for you to send Etta away. She should be here. With you.”

“I think not,” Kennit observed lazily. He held out his wrists for Wintrow to button his cuffs. “I prefer Althea. I intend to keep her, Wintrow. You had best get used to the idea.”

Wintrow was aghast. “Will you hold Althea here, against her will, while you banish Etta to Sorcor’s ship?”

“It will not be against her will, if that is what upsets you. Your aunt has already indicated that she finds me a comely man. In time, she will come to accept her role beside me. Today’s little… incident was an aberration. She merely needs more time to rest and adapt to the changes in her life. You need not be troubled on her behalf.”

“I will see her. I will speak- What was that?” Wintrow lifted his head.

“I heard nothing,” Kennit replied disdainfully. “Perhaps you should join Etta on board the Marietta until-” It was his turn to stop in midsentence. His eyes widened.

“You felt it, too,” Wintrow said accusingly. “A struggle. Inside the ship herself.”

“I felt no such thing!” Kennit replied hotly.

“Something is happening,” Wintrow declared. Bolt had taught him to dread his connection to the ship. He felt his link to her roiling with turmoil, yet he feared to reach toward her.

“I feel nothing,” the pirate declared disdainfully. “You imagine it.”

“Kennit! Kennit!” It was a long, drawn-out call, threatening in its intensity. Wintrow felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

Kennit shrugged hastily into his fresh jacket and straightened his collar and cuffs. “I suppose I should go and see what that is about,” he said, but Wintrow could see his nonchalance was feigned. “I imagine the little fracas in the corridor has upset the ship.”

Wintrow made no reply, except to open the door for Kennit. The pirate hastened past him. Wintrow followed him more slowly. As he passed Althea’s door, he heard the low murmur of a voice. He stopped to listen, his ear close to the jamb. The poor woman was talking to herself, her voice so low and rapid that he could not make out any words. “Althea?” He tried the door, but the lock on it was stout. He stood a moment in indecision, then hastened after Kennit.

He had nearly reached the door when Etta entered the companionway. She walked very straight and tall, and her face was impassive. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Of course not.” Her voice was soft and flat. “Sorcor has a boat on its way. I must gather a few things.”