For the first time he turned his eyes to Althea. Despite the pain and bruised skin, for an instant her father seemed to look out of those eyes. The same infinite patience cushioning an iron will. This was not some frail, cowering priest boy, but a man's mind in a boy's changing body, she realized in amazement.

“Even your own son recognizes the injustice of what you do,” she accused Kyle. “Your snatching Vivacia from me has nothing to do with whether or not you believe I can command her. It is solely a matter of your own greed.”

“Greed?” Kyle shouted in disdain. “Greed? Oh, I like that! Greed makes me want to take over a ship so ridiculously in debt, I'll be lucky to pay her off before I die. Greed makes me want to step forward and take responsibility for a household with no concept of wise money management. Althea, if I thought you had any capacity to be useful aboard the Vivacia, I'd seize on the chance of making you work for a change. No. More than that. If you could show me but one sign of true seamanship, if you had a single ship's ticket to your belt, I'd make you a gift of the damn ship and all her debts with her. But you're nothing but a spoiled little girl.”

“You liar!” Althea cried in infinite disgust.

“By Sa, I swear it's so!” Kyle roared angrily. “If but one reputable captain would vouch for your seamanship, I'd hand the ship over to you tomorrow! But all of Bingtown knows you for what you are. A dabbler and a pretense.”

“The ship would vouch for her,” Wintrow observed in a wavering voice. He lifted a hand to his forehead, as if to hold his head together.

“If the ship vouched for her, would you do as you've sworn? For by Sa, you've offered that oath, and we all witnessed it. You'd have to live up to it. I cannot believe this quarreling and anger was what my grandfather willed for us. It is so simple for us to restore a balance. If Althea was on board Vivacia, I could go back to my monastery. We could all go back to where we belong. Where we were happy . . .” His voice trailed off as he realized all eyes were on him. His father's look was black with fury, but Ronica Vestrit had lifted her hand to her mouth as if his words had cut her to the quick.

“I've had enough of this whining!” Kyle suddenly exploded. He crossed the room in a few strides, to lean on the table and glare down on his son. “Is this what the priests taught you? To twist things about to get your own way? It shames me that a boy of my own bloodlines could use such tricks on his own grandmother. Stand up!” he barked, and when Wintrow stared up at him wordlessly, bellowed “Stand up!”

The young priest hesitated a moment, and then came to his feet. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father spoke first. “You are thirteen years old, even if you look more like ten and behave like three. Thirteen. By law, in Bingtown, a son's labor belongs to his father until he is fifteen years old. Oppose me and I'll invoke that law. I don't care if you wear a brown robe, I don't care if you grow sacred antlers from your brow. Until you are fifteen, you'll work that ship. Do you understand me?”

Even Althea was shocked at the near-blasphemy of Kyle's words. Wintrow's voice quavered as he replied, but he stood straight. “As a priest of Sa, I am bound only by those civil laws that are just and righteous. You invoke a civil law to break your promise. When you gave me to Sa, you gave my labor to Sa as well. I no longer belong to you.” He glanced about, from his mother to his grandmother, then added, almost apologetically, “I am not even truly a member of this family any more. I have been given to Sa.”

Ronica stood to block him, but Kyle brushed past her with a force that sent the older woman staggering. With a cry, Keffria sprang to her mother's side. Kyle gripped Wintrow by the front of his robe and shook him until his head whipped back and forth. His words were distorted by rage. “Mine,” he roared at the boy. “You are mine. And you'll shut up and do as you're told. Now!” He stilled the boy's body and then hauled him up on his toes. “Get yourself down to that ship. Report to the mate. Tell him you're the new ship's boy, and that's all you are. The ship's boy. Understand?”

Althea had watched in horrified fascination. She was dimly aware that her mother was now holding and trying to comfort a sobbing, near-hysterical Keffria. Two servants, no longer able to restrain their curiosity, were peeping around the corner of the door. Althea knew she should intervene, but all that was happening was so far outside her experience that she could only gape. Kitchen servants gossiped of having squabbles like this at home, or one heard of tradesmen apprenticing their sons against their wills. She'd heard of ship's discipline like this on other vessels. Things like this simply never happened in the homes of Old Trader families. Or if it did, it was never spoken of.