“Well, you are right, I do know at least a part of it.” The Ophelia laughed huskily. Her lips were painted scarlet, her own conceit. Her teeth were very white when she laughed. She lowered both her eyelashes and her voice as she said more softly, “And right now I'm the only one that knows it. As I'm sure you'd like it to remain.”

“As I am sure it will,” Althea replied sweetly, shaking the dice box soundly. “For a lady so grand as yourself could never be so petty as to give away another's secret.”

“No?” She smiled with a corner of her mouth. “Do you not think I have a duty to reveal to my captain that one of his hands is not what he thinks him to be?”

“Mmm.” It could be a very uncomfortable journey home, if Tenira decided to confine her. “So. What do you propose?”

“Three throws. For each one I win, I get to ask you a question, which you will answer truthfully.”

“And if I win?”

“I keep your secret.”

Althea shook her head. “Your stakes are not as high as mine.”

“You can ask me a question.”

“No. Still not enough.”

“Well, what do you want then?”

Althea shook the dice box thoughtfully.

Despite the time of year, the day was almost warm, an effect of the hot swamps to the west of them. All this stretch of coast was swamp and tussocky islands and shifting sand bars that changed seasonally. The hot water that mingled with the brine here was terrible for ordinary ships; sea-worms and other pests throve in it. But it wouldn't bother the Ophelia's wizardwood hull. An occasional whiff of sulfur was the only price they had to pay for it. The wind stirred the tendrils of hair that had pulled free of Althea's queue and warmed the ache of hard work from her joints. Despite her tide of “extra” hand, Tenira had found plenty to keep her busy. But he was a fair man and Ophelia was a beautiful and sweet-tempered ship. And Althea suddenly realized just how content she had been the last week or so.

“I know what I want,” she said quietly. “But I'm not sure even you can give it to me.”

“You think very loud. Has anyone ever told you that? I think I like you almost as much as you like me.” Ophelia's voice was warm with affection. “You want me to ask Tenira to keep you on, don't you?”

“There's more than that. I'd want him to know what I am, and still be willing to let me work for him.”

“Ouch,” Ophelia complained mockingly. “That is a high stake. And of course I couldn't promise it, only that I'd try for it.” She winked at Althea. “Shake the box, girl.”

Ophelia won the first round easily.

“So. Ask your question,” Althea said quietly.

“Not yet. I want to know how many questions I have, before I start.”

The next two rounds went to her as swiftly as the first. Althea still could not see how she was cheating; the figurehead's large hands all but overlapped on the dice box.

“Well,” Ophelia purred as she handed the box to Althea for her to inspect her final winning throw. “Three questions. Let me see.” She deliberated a moment. “What is your full true name?”

Althea sighed. “Althea Vestrit.” She spoke very softly, knowing the ship would nonetheless hear her.

“No-o-o!” Ophelia breathed out in scandalized delight. “You are a Vestrit! A girl from an Old Trader family runs off to sea, and leaves her own liveship behind. Oh, how could you, you wicked thing, you heartless girl! Have you any idea what you put the Vivacia through? And her just a little slip of a thing, barely quickened and you leave her next to alone in the world! Heartless, wicked . . . tell me why, quickly, quickly, or I shall die of suspense!”

“It was not my choice.” Althea took a breath. “I was forced off my family ship,” she said quietly, and suddenly it all came back, the grief at her father's death, her outrage at her disinheritance, her hatred of Kyle. Without thinking, she reached up to put her palm flat against the great hand that Ophelia reached down to her in sympathy. Like a floodgate opening, she felt the sudden outflow of her feelings and thoughts. She took a long shuddering breath. She had not realized how much she had missed simply being able to share with someone.

The words spilled from her. Ophelia's features grew first agitated, then sympathetic as she listened to Althea's tale of her wrongs.

“Oh, my dear, my dear. How tragic! But why didn't you come to us? Why did you let them part you?”

“Come to who?” Althea asked dazedly.