“The rain will turn to sleet tonight,” Althea predicted sourly.

“Damn. And the night started out so well.”

She trudged down the street with him leaning heavily on her shoulder. At the corner of a shuttered mercantile store she stopped to get her bearings. The whole town was black as pitch and the cold rain running down her face didn't help any.

“Stop a minute, Althea. I've got to piss.”

“Athel,” she reminded him wearily. His modesty consisted of stumbling two steps away as he fumbled at his pants.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly a few moments later.

“It's all right,” she told him tolerantly. “You're still drunk.”

“Not drunk,” he insisted. He put a hand on her shoulder again. “There was something in the beer, I think. No, I'm sure of it. I'd have probably tasted it, but for the cindin.”

“You chew cindin?” Althea asked incredulously. “You?”

“Sometimes,” Brashen said defensively. “Not often. And I haven't in a long time.”

“My father always said it's killed more sailors than bad weather,” Althea told him sourly. Her head was pounding.

“Probably,” Brashen agreed. As they passed beyond the buildings and came to the docks he offered, “You should try it sometime, though. Nothing like it for setting a man's problems aside.”

“Right.” He seemed to be getting wobblier. She put her arm around his waist. “Not far to go now.”

“I know. Hey. What happened back there? In the tavern?”

She wanted so badly to be angry then but found she didn't have the energy. It was almost funny. “You nearly got crimped. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” A long silence followed. The wind died down for a few breaths. “Hey. I was thinking about you earlier. About what you should do. You should go north.”

She shook her head in the darkness. “No more slaughter boats for me after this. Not unless I have to.”

“No, no. That's not what I mean. Way north, and west. Up past Chalced, to the Duchies. Up there, the ships are smaller. And they don't care if you're a man or a woman, so long as you work hard. That's what I've heard anyway. Up there, women captain ships, and sometimes the whole damn crew are women.”

“Barbarian women,” Althea pointed out. “They're more related to the Out Islanders than they are to us, and from what I've heard, they spend most of their time trying to kill each other off. Brashen, most of them can't even read. They get married in front of rocks, Sa help us all.”

“Witness stones,” he corrected her.

“My father used to trade up there, before they had their war,” she went on doggedly. They were out on the docks now, and the wind suddenly gusted up with an energy that nearly pushed her down. “He said,” she grunted as she kept Brashen to his feet, “that they were more barbaric than the Chalcedeans. That half their buildings didn't even have glass windows.”

“That's on the coast,” he corrected her doggedly. “I've heard that inland, some of the cities are truly magnificent.”

“I'd be on the coast,” she reminded him crankily. “Here's the Reaper. Mind your step.”

The Reaper was tied to the dock, shifting restlessly against her hemp camels as both wind and waves nudged at her. Althea had expected to have a difficult time getting him up the gangplank, but Brashen went up it surprisingly well. Once aboard, he stood clear of her. “Well. Get some sleep, boy. We sail early.”

“Yessir,” she replied gratefully. She still felt sick and woozy. Now that she was back aboard and so close to her bed, she was even more tired. She turned and trudged away to the hatch. Once below she found some few of the crew still awake and sitting around a dim lantern.

“What happened to you?” Reller greeted her.

“Crimpers,” she said succinctly. “They made a try for Brashen and me. But we got clear of them. They found the hunter off the Tern, too. And a couple of others, I guess.”

“Sa's balls!” the man swore. “Was the skipper from the Jolly Gal in on it?”

“Don't know,” she said wearily. “But Pag was for sure, and his girl. The beer was drugged. I'll never go in his tavern again.”

“Damn. No wonder Jord's sleeping sound, he got the dose that was meant for you. Well, I'm heading over to the Tern, hear what that hunter has to say,” Reller declared.