She gave a tiny sigh. “I was so angry,” she shook her head at herself. “So angry when they hurt you. When they made me hurt you. I vowed I'd get a liveship for you if it was the last thing I ever did. Plainly that was what you wished to ask the prisoners about. So. At the times when I was worn to death of sitting by your bedside but still could not sleep, I went to see them.”

“Them?”

“There were three, at first.” She shrugged casually. “I believe I have the information you want. I checked and rechecked it most carefully. Nonetheless, I took care to keep one alive, as I was sure you'd wish to confirm it for yourself.”

A woman of many talents. And intelligent, too. He'd probably have to kill her soon. “And you discovered?”

“They had word of only two liveships. The first is a cog, the Ophelia. She left Jamaillia City before they did, but she still had Bingtown goods to trade, so she'd be making other stops as she came north.” Etta shrugged. “She could be behind them still, she could be ahead of them. There is no way to be sure. The only other liveship they've seen lately was in Jamaillia City. She came into the harbor the day before they left. She didn't plan to be staying there long. She was unloading cargo, and being refitted to haul a load of slaves north to Chalced.”

“That makes no sense, to use a liveship so,” Kennit exclaimed in disgust. “They lied to you.”

Etta gave a tiny shrug. “That's always possible, I suppose. But they lied very well, individually, at different times.” She wadded his sweaty shirt up with the stained linen from his bed. “They convinced me.”

“Easy enough to convince a woman. And that was the whole of what they told you?”

She gave him a look that dared to be cool. “Likely the rest was lies, too.”

“I would hear it, anyway.”

She sighed. “They did not know much. Most of it was rumor. The two ships were in harbor together for less than a day. The Vivacia is owned by a Bingtown Trader family named Haven. The ship will be making for Chalced by the Inside Passage as swiftly as she can. They hoped to buy mostly artisans and skilled workers, but might take on some others just for ballast. A man named Torg was in charge of everything, but he didn't seem to be the captain. She's newly quickened. This is her maiden voyage.”

Kennit shook his head at her. “Haven isn't a Trader name.”

She spread her hands at him. “You were right. They lied to me.” She turned her face from him, and stared stonily at a bulkhead. “I'm sorry I bungled the questioning.”

She was becoming intractable. If he'd had two good legs under him, he'd have strode up to her and pushed her onto her back on the bed and reminded her what she was. Instead, he'd have to flatter her. He tried to think of something nice to say to her, to make her pleasant again. But the interminable throbbing of his missing leg had suddenly become a pounding pain. He wanted only to lie down, to go back to sleep and avoid all of this. And he'd have to ask her to help him.

“I'm helpless. I can't even get back into my bed alone,” he said bitterly. In rare honesty he declared, “I hate for you to see me this way.” Outside, the music changed. One strong man's voice took up a chant, at once forceful and tender. He cocked his head to make out the oddly familiar words. “Ah,” he said softly to himself. “I know it now. 'From Kytris, To His Mistress.' A lovely piece.” He tried again to find a compliment to give her. He couldn't think of any. “You could go out on deck and listen to the music, if you wished,” he offered her. “It's quite an old poem, you know.” The edges of his vision wavered. His eyes watered with his pain. “Have you heard it before?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Oh, Kennit.” She shook her head, suddenly and inexplicitly contrite. Tears stood in her eyes as she came to him. “It sounds more sweet to me here than anywhere else. I'm sorry. I'm such a heartless wench sometimes. Look at you, white as a sheet. Let me help you lie down.”

And she did, as gently as she could manage. She sponged his face with cool water. “No,” he protested feebly. “I'm cold. I'm too cold.”

She covered him gently, and then lay down along his good side. The warmth of her body was actually pleasant, but the lace on the front of her shirt scratched his face. “Take your clothes off,” he directed her. “You're warmest when you're naked.”

She gave a short laugh, at once pleased and surprised. “Such a man,” she rebuked him. But she rose to obey him.