And getting more maudlin every minute. Time to go to bed. Right after this last mug, it would be time to go up to the room she had secured for the night.

Brashen walked in the door. His gaze swept the room and settled on her immediately. For a frozen instant he just stood where he was. She knew by his stance that he was angry. He'd been in a fight, too. The redness under his left eye would be a black eye before morning. But she doubted that was what he was still angry about. There was a tightness to his wide shoulders under his clean striped shirt, and small sparks deep in his dark eyes. There was no reason for her to feel guilty or ashamed. She hadn't promised to meet him, she'd only said she might. So the sudden shrinking she felt surprised her. He strode across the tavern and glanced about to find an unbroken chair. There wasn't one, and he had to sit on the end of her bench. He leaned forward to speak to her and his words were clipped.

“You could have simply said no. You didn't have to leave me sitting and worrying about you.”

She drummed her fingers lightly on the table. For a few seconds she watched them and then looked up to meet his eyes. “Sorry, sir,” she reminded him. “Didn't think as you'd worry about the likes of me.”

She saw his eyes dart to the musicians, who were paying no attention to them at all. “I see,” he said levelly. His eyes said much more. She'd hurt him. She hadn't meant to, hadn't really thought about that aspect of it at all. He got up and walked away. She expected he would leave, but instead he interrupted the tavern-keeper, who was sweeping up broken crockery. Brashen brought his own mug of beer back to the table and resumed his seat. He didn't give her a chance to speak at all. “I got worried. So I went back to the ship. I asked the mate if he knew where you'd gone.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. What he said about you was not . . .” His words trailed off and he touched the darkening bruise on his face. “I won't be sailing aboard the Reaper again,” he said abruptly. He glared at her as if it were her fault. “Why were you so stupid as to tell them your real name?”

“The mate told you about it?” she asked in reply. Unbelievably, her mood dropped yet another notch. If he was talking about it, it was going to lessen her chances of getting aboard another ship as a boy. Despair hit her like green water.

“No. The captain. After the mate escorted me in there and they demanded to know if I had known you were a woman.”

“And you told them you had?” Worse and worse. Now they would be convinced she had whored herself out to buy Brashen's silence.

“There seemed little point in lying.”

She didn't want to know the rest, about who had hit whom first and when. None of it seemed to matter anymore. She just shook her head.

But Brashen wasn't going to let it be. He took a gulp of his beer, then demanded, “Why did you give them your real name? How could you expect to sail again on a ticket that had your real name on it?” He was incredulous at her stupidity.

“On the Vivacia” she said faintly. “I expected to use it to sail on the Vivacia. As her captain and owner.”

“How?” he asked suspiciously.

And she told him. The whole story, and even as she spoke of Kyle's careless oath and her hopes of using it against him, even as Brashen shook his head at her foolish plan, she wondered why she was telling him. What was it about him that had her spilling her guts to him, about things that were none of his business?

He left a small space of silence at the end of her story. Then he shook his head yet again. “Kyle would never keep his word on a chance oath like that. You'd have to take it to Traders' Council. And even with your mother and your nephew speaking in your behalf, I doubt they'd take you seriously. People say things, in the heat of anger. ... If the Traders' Council started forcing every man who swore an oath in anger to live up to them, half of Bingtown would be murdered.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, it doesn't surprise me that you'd try. I always thought that, sooner or later, you'd try to take the Vivacia back from Kyle. But not like that.”

“How, then?” she asked him testily. “Sneak aboard and cut his throat while he's asleep?”

“Ah. So that occurred to you, too,” he observed dryly.

She found herself grinning in spite of herself. “Almost immediately,” she admitted. Then her smile faded. “I have to take the Vivacia back. Even though I now know I'm not really ready to captain her. No, don't laugh at me. I may be thick, but I do learn. She's mine, in a way no other ship ever could be. But the law is against me and my family is against me. One or the other, I might fight. But together . . .” Her voice died away and she sat still and silent for a time. “I spend a lot of time not thinking about her, Brashen.”