“I know. We got enough problems with the New Traders,” Althea agreed quietly.

“Would that were all,” Tenira said fervently. “But I fear worse is to come. I got the word in Jamaillia City itself. You know what that fool of a boy-Satrap has done now? Hired Chalcedean mercenaries as privateers to patrol the Inside Passage. Word I got is that he's given them the right to stop in Bingtown for water and supplies. Free of charge. Says it's the least Bingtown should be willing to do to help clean out the pirates. When we left Jamaillia City, his messenger boat was already two days out. With papers authorizing the Satrap's revenue officer to see his Chalcedean hirelings are treated well. 'To collect contributions for their provisioning' was the pretty paper he wrapped it in.”

“We've never allowed armed Chalcedean ships into Bingtown harbor, only trading vessels,” Althea observed quietly.

“You catch on quick, girl. My guess is that we still won't. It will be interesting to see how the New Traders ally. I fear more will support the Satrap and his Chalcedean dogs than . . .”

“Tomie,” Ophelia interrupted. “Save politics for later. You can bore her to tears with that at every meal from here to Bingtown. But first Athel has to become Althea again.” Her eyes lifted to Althea's. “Go on, girl, go fetch your things. Grag will see you ashore and safely to the door of the rooming house.” Her mouth widened in a bawdy grin and she suddenly winked at the mate. “And mind you behave yourself, Grag, for Althea will tell me all about it otherwise. Go along now, but be sure you stop at her door.”

Althea found herself more flustered at the ship's humor than Grag did. He seemed accustomed to it. “Thank you, sir,” she managed to Captain Tenira. “I do so appreciate this.” Then she hastened away where the shadows could hide her face.

When she came back out on deck, Grag was waiting for her by the hatch. She shouldered her sea-bag, and was relieved when he had the sense not to offer to carry it for her. She followed him down the gangplank and then up into town. He set a good pace. She found herself without words, and he seemed as shy. The night was mild, and the roads lit with the light spilling out from the sailor taverns they passed. When they came to the door of the rooming house, Grag halted.

“Well. Here we are,” he said awkwardly. He hesitated as if about to say more.

Althea resolved to put him at ease. “Can I buy you a beer?” she offered, gesturing to the tavern across the street.

He glanced at it, and his blue eyes were wide as they came back to hers. “I don't think I'd be comfortable,” he said honestly. “Besides. My father would skin me if I took a lady in a place like that.” After a moment, he added, “But thank you.” He didn't move.

Althea ducked her head to hide her smile. “Well. Good night, then.”

“Yes.” He shuffled his feet, then hitched up his trousers. “Uh, I'm supposed to meet you tomorrow and bring you back to the ship. As if it's 'by chance,' as Ophelia put it.” He looked down at his feet. “I don't want to look all over town for you. Shall we meet somewhere?” His eyes came up to her face again.

“That would be a good idea,” she said quietly. “Where do you suggest?”

He looked away. “There's a place just down the street from here.” He pointed through the darkness. “Eldoy's. They make chowder and fresh bread there. It's very good. We could meet there. I'd buy you dinner, and you could tell me your adventures. Since you left Bingtown.” His eyes came back to her face and he managed a smile. “Or since we last danced together.”

So he had recalled that. She returned his smile.

He had a good face, open and honest. She thought of what she had seen of him, especially him and his father and Ophelia together. The fondness and ease that existed among them made her suddenly hunger for such things as simple jokes and companionable times. When she smiled back at him, his grin widened before he looked away. “I'll meet you there tomorrow afternoon,” she agreed easily.

“Good. Good, then, that's settled. Good night, then.” Almost hastily, he turned away from her. He gave another hitch to his trousers and then shifted his cap to the back of his head. She smiled as she watched him walk away. He had a jaunty sailor's roll to his gait. She recalled now that he'd been a very good dancer.

“You know something?” Tarlock queried drunkenly. “I know you. I'm sure I know you.”

“Not surprising. I'm only the mate on your ship,” Brashen told him disgustedly. He swiveled in his seat so he didn't have to face the seaman. Tarlock didn't take the hint.