Her grandmother's face had gone from stern to shock. Now her mouth was pinched white with fury. “Do you listen at doors, sweet granddaughter? To the words of a dying man to his wife? I had thought many things of you, Malta, both good and bad. But I never suspected you of being a prying little eavesdropper.”

Malta wagged her head coldly. She made her voice sweet. “I was told it was how one became accepted as a woman in this family. To know the family holdings and finances, to be aware of both dangers and opportunities. But it seems to me you would rather risk any opportunity for the sake of keeping my father in ignorance. You don't really see him as a member of this family, do you? Oh, he's fine for fathering children and keeping my mother content. But you want nothing of him beyond that. Because then he might threaten your own plan. To keep power and control for yourself, even if it means ruin for the family.” Malta had not known the depth of her own anger until she heard it poured out as venom.

Her grandmother's voice was shaking as she replied. “If your father is ignorant of our ways, it is because he never took the time to learn them. If he had, I would not be so fearful of the power he already wields, Malta.” The woman took a breath. “You show me, here and now, that you have understanding I did not suspect in you. If you had shown us the depth of your understanding before, perhaps your mother and I would have seen you as more adult than child. For now, understand this. When Ephron . . . when your grandfather died, I could have retained far more control of the family fortune than I did. His wish was that Althea have the ship. Not Keffria and your father. It was I who persuaded him that your father would be a better choice for captain. Would I have done that, if my hope were to keep control for myself? If I opposed your father being a full member of this family? I believed in his stability and wisdom. But he was not content to inherit. He brought too much change, too fast, with no real understanding of what he was changing, or why such change would be bad. He never consulted any of us about it. Suddenly, it was all his own will and what he thought was best. I do not keep him in ignorance, Malta. His ignorance is a fortress he has built himself and defended savagely.”

Malta listened, but it was almost against her will. Her grandmother was too clever for her. She knew there were lies hidden there, she knew the old woman was twisting the truth about her handsome, dashing, bold father. But she wasn't smart enough to unravel the deception. So she forced a smile to her lips. “Then you won't mind if I tell him what I know, to dispel his ignorance that offends you so. You won't mind if I tell him there never were any charts of the Rain Wild River. That the quickened ship is her own guide. Surely I should dispel that ignorance for him.”

She watched her grandmother's face closely, to see how she would take Malta knowing this secret. But the old woman's face did not betray her. She shook her head. “You make a threat, child, and you don't even know that you threaten yourself. There are both costs and dangers to dealing with the Rain Wild Traders. Our kin they are, and I speak no ill against them. The bargains we have struck with them I will keep. But Ephron and I long ago decided that we would make no new bargains, no new commitments with them. Because we wanted our children and our grandchildren, yes, even you, to make their own decisions. So we lived a harder life than we needed to, and our debts were not paid off as swiftly as they might have been. We did not mind the sacrifice.” Her grandmother's voice began to quaver wildly. “We sacrificed for you, you spitting little cat. And now I look at you and wonder why. Chalcedean salt water runs in your veins, not Bingtown blood.”

The old woman turned and rushed from the room. There was no dignity and strength in her retreat. Malta knew that meant she had won. She had faced her down, once and for all, and now they all would have to treat Malta differently. She had won, she had proved her will was as strong as her grandmother's. And she didn't care, not really, about that last thing her grandmother had said. It was all a lie anyway, about sacrifices made for her. It was all a lie.

A lie. And that was another thing. She hadn't meant to lie to her about the box. She wouldn't have done it, if the old woman had not been so sure she had both stolen it and lied about it. If Ronica Vestrit had looked at her and wondered a little if she were innocent, Malta would have told her the truth. But what was the good of telling people the truth when they already believed you were wicked and the truth would just prove it to them? She might just as well lie twice and be the liar and thief that her grandmother not only believed she was, but hoped she was. Yes, that was true, her grandmother wanted her to be bad and wicked, because then she'd feel justified in the horrid way she treated Malta's father. It was all her grandmother's own fault. If you treated people badly, then it all just came back on you.