“What?” he answered readily. He had not been asleep, nor even near sleep. Could he have been waiting? How could he have known she would come to him?

Althea took a deep breath. “Can I talk to you?”

“Can I stop you?” he asked grumpily. It was evidently a familiar response, for Althea was not put off by it. She set her hand to the door handle, then took it away without opening the door. She leaned on the door and spoke close to it.

“Do you have a lantern or a candle?”

“No. Is that what you wanted to talk about?” His tone seemed to be getting brusquer.

“No. It's just that I prefer to see the person I'm talking to.”

“Why? You know what I look like.”

“You're impossible when you're drunk.”

“At least with me, it's only when I'm drunk. You're impossible all the time.”

Althea sounded distinctly annoyed now. “I don't know why I'm even trying to talk to you.”

“That makes two of us,” Brashen added as an aside, as if to himself. Paragon suddenly wondered if they were aware of how clearly he could hear their every word and movement. Did they know he was their unseen audience, or did they truly believe themselves alone? Brashen, at least, he suspected, included him.

Althea sighed heavily. She leaned her head on the paneled door between them. “I have no one else to talk to. And I really need to ... Look, can I come in? I hate talking through this door.”

“The door isn't latched,” he told her grudgingly. He didn't move from his hammock.

In the darkness, Althea pushed the door open. She stood in the entry uncertainly for a moment, then groped her way into the room. She followed the wall, bracing herself to keep from falling on the slanted deck. “Where are you?”

“Over here. In a hammock. Best sit down before you fall.”

He offered her no more courtesy than that. Althea sat, bracing her feet against the slope of the floor and leaning back against a bulkhead. She took a deep breath. “Brashen, my whole life just fell apart in the last two days. I don't know what to do.”

“Go home,” he suggested without sympathy. “You know that eventually you'll have to. The longer you put it off, the. harder it will be. So do it now.”

“That's easy to say, and hard to do. You should understand that. You never went home.”

Brashen gave a short, bitter laugh. “Didn't I? I tried. They just threw me out again. Because I had waited too long. So. Now you know you are getting good advice. Go back home while you still can, while a bit of crawling and humble obedience will buy you a place to sleep and food on your plate. Wait too long, let the disgrace set in, let them get used to life without the family troublemaker, and they won't have you back, no matter how you plead and crawl.”

Althea was silent for a long time. Then, “That really happened to you?”

“No. I'm making it all up,” Brashen replied sourly.

“I'm sorry,” Althea said after a time. More resolutely she went on, “But I can't go back. At least, not while Kyle's in port. And even after he's gone, if I do go back, it will only be to get my things.”

Brashen shifted in his hammock. “You mean your dresses and trinkets? Precious relics from your childhood? Your favorite pillow?”

“And my jewelry. If I have to, I can always sell that.”

Brashen threw himself back in the hammock. “Why bother? You'll find you can't drag all that stuff around with you anyway. As for your jewelry, why not pretend you already got it, sold it piece by painful piece and the money is gone and now you really have to find out how to live your own life? That'll save you time, and any heirloom stuff will at least remain with your family. If Kyle hasn't seen to having it locked up already.”

The silence that followed Brashen's bitter suggestion was blacker than the starless darkness that Paragon stared into. When Althea did speak again, her voice was hard with determination.

“I know you're right. I need to do something, not wait around for something to happen. I need to find work. And the only work I know anything about it sailing. And it's my only path to getting back on board Vivacia. But I won't get hired dressed like this. . . .”

Brashen gave a contemptuous snort. “Face it, Althea. You won't get hired no matter how you are dressed. You've got too much stacked up against you. You're a woman, you're Ephron Vestrit's daughter, and Kyle Haven won't be too happy with anyone who hires you, either.”