Althea kept her eyes down. Two days ago she had spotted the Ophelia in the harbor. The sight of the old liveship's silvery hull and smiling figurehead had moved her with a depth that shocked her. A question or two in the waterfront taverns had given her all the information she needed. The liveship was homeward bound, heading back for Bingtown in a matter of days. In the instant of hearing that, Althea had resolved that one way or another, she would be on board her. She had hung about the docks, watching and waiting for her chance to catch the captain alone. Her plan was simple. She'd first try to hire aboard as a ship's boy. If that didn't work, she'd reveal to him who she was and beg for passage home. She didn't think he'd turn her down. Still, it had taken all her courage to follow Tenira to this waterfront tavern and wait while he dined. She had stood in a corner, waiting until he had finished eating before she approached him. When he set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, she'd placed herself before him. Now she summoned all her courage. “Sir, begging your pardon, sir. I'd work for nothing, just for my passage back to Bingtown.”

The captain turned in his chair to face her and crossed his arms on his chest. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

Althea looked at the tavern floor between her bare feet and bit her lip. Then she looked up at the captain of the liveship Ophelia. “Got my wages from the Reaper ... at least, I still got part of them. I'd like to get home, sir and give them to my mother.” Althea swallowed awkwardly. “Before they're all gone. I promised her I'd come home with money, sir, Da being in a bad way. And I been trying to, but the longer I look for a ship back to Bingtown, the more I spend each day.” She looked back at the floor. “Even if you don't pay me anything, I'd probably get home with more money if I ship now than if I wait around and try for a paying berth.”

“I see.” Captain Tenira looked at the plate on the table before him and pushed it casually away. His tongue plucked at something in his back teeth for a moment. “Well. That's admirable. But I'd still be feeding you, I think. And working aboard a liveship isn't quite the same as any other kind of a vessel. They're lively in a way that has nothing to do with wind or weather. And Ophelia can be a willful lady.”

Althea bit her lips to suppress a smile. The Ophelia was one of the oldest liveships, the first generation as it were. She was a blowzy old cog, bawdy and lewd when the mood took her, and patrician and commanding at other times. A willful lady was the kindest way she had ever heard Ophelia described.

“Her hands have got to be more than quick and smart,” Captain Tenira was lecturing. “They've got to be steady. You can't be afraid of her or superstitious about her. And you can't let her bully you either. Ever been aboard a liveship, boy?”

“A bit,” Althea admitted. “Before I started sailing, I'd go down to the North Wall in Bingtown and talk to them sometimes. I like 'em, sir. I'm not afraid of them.”

The captain cleared his throat. In a different voice, he pointed out, “And a merchant vessel is a lot different from a slaughter ship. We move a lot faster, and we keep a lot cleaner. When the mate tells you to jump, you jump right away. Think you can do that?”

“Yes sir, I can do that. And I'm clean, and I keep my area clean.” Althea was nodding like a puppet.

“Well.” The captain considered. “I still don't need you, you know. Serving on a liveship is something a lot of men would jump through any hoop to do. You're stepping into a position I'd have no trouble filling with an older, experienced man.”

“I know, sir. I appreciate that, sir.”

“See that you do. I'm a hard master, Athel. You may regret this before we reach Bingtown.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I'd heard that about you. That you was hard, but fair.” She let her eyes meet his again. “I don't fear to work for a fair man.”

It was just enough honey. The captain almost smiled. “Go and report to the mate, then. His name's Grag Tenira. Tell him I've hired you on, and that you want to chip rust on the anchor chain.”

“Yes sir,” Althea replied with just enough of a grimace. Chipping rust off the anchor chain was an endless task. Then she reminded herself that even chipping rust off an anchor chain on a liveship was better than any other task she'd ever done aboard the Reaper. “Thankee, sir.”

“Go along, then,” Captain Tenira told her genially. He sat forward in his chair to take up his ale mug and wave it at a passing tavern boy.