“I do have to leave, though,” Althea hastily decided. If she stayed, she would have to ask the ship if she had had anything to do with the fallen block and tackle. It was suddenly too chill a secret; she could live with her suspicions more easily than she could live with being a party to such knowledge. “Take care of yourself,” she told Vivacia. “And look after Wintrow, too.”

“Althea! Will you be back?”

“Of course I will. There are just a few things I need to take care of. But I'll be back to see you again before you sail.”

“I can't imagine sailing without you,” Vivacia said desolately. The figurehead lifted her eyes to the distant horizon, as if she were already far beyond Bingtown. A stray breeze stirred the heavy locks of her hair.

“It's going to be hard to stand here on the docks and watch you go off into the distance. At least you'll have Wintrow aboard.”

“Who hates being with me.” The ship abruptly sounded very young again. And very distressed.

“Vivacia. You know I can't stay here. But I will be back. Know that I am working on a way to be with you. It will take me some time, but I will be with you again. Until then, behave yourself.”

“I suppose,” Vivacia sighed.

“Good. I will see you again soon.”

Althea turned and hastened away. Her insincerity had nearly choked her. She wondered if the ship had been fooled at all. She hoped she had, and yet every instinct she had about the Vivacia told her that she could not be tricked that easily. She must know how jealous Althea was of Wintrow's place aboard her, she must be able to sense her deep, deep anger at how things had turned out. And yet Althea hoped she did not, hoped that Vivacia had had nothing to do with the fallen hoist, and prayed to Sa fervently that the ship would not attempt to right things on her own.

As she turned to go, she reflected that the ship was both like and unlike what she had expected. She had dreamed of a ship with all the good qualities of a proud and beautiful woman. She had not paused to think that Vivacia had inherited not just her father's experience, but that of her grandfather and great-grandma as well, to say nothing of what Althea herself had added. She feared now that the ship would be just as hammer-headed as any other Vestrit, just as slow to forgive, just as intent on having her own way. If I were aboard, I could guide her, as my father guided me through my stubborn times. Wintrow will not have the vaguest idea of how to deal with her. A tiny black thought pushed itself into her mind. If she kills Kyle, he will have brought it on himself.

A chill of disgust raced through her that she could even harbor such a thought. She stooped hastily, to rap her knuckles against the wood of the dock, to proof her fate against the Vivacia ever doing anything so horrible. As she straightened up, she felt eyes on her. She lifted her gaze to find Amber standing and staring at her. The golden woman was dressed in a long simple robe the color of a ripe acorn, and her hair was bound down her back in a single shining plait. The fabric of the robe fell in pleats from her shoulders to the hem, concealing every line of her body. Her hands were gloved, to conceal the scars and calluses of an artisan's fingers in the guise of a gentlewoman's hands. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the busy dock, she stood still, as unaffected by all of it as if she were enclosed in a glass bubble. For a second her tawny eyes locked with Althea's, and Althea's mouth went dry. There was something other-worldly about her. All around her, folk came and went on their business, but where she stood there was stillness and focus. She wore a necklace of simple wooden beads, gleaming in every tone of brown that wood could be. Even from where she stood, they caught Althea's eyes and she felt drawn to them. She doubted that anyone could look at them and not desire to possess them.

Her eyes darted up to Amber's face. Once more their eyes met. Amber did not smile. She slowly turned her head, first to one side and then to another as if inviting Althea to admire her profile. Instead Althea noticed only her mismatched earrings. She wore several in each ear, but the ones that drew Althea's attention were the twisted serpent of gleaming wood in her left ear and the shining dragon in her right. Each was as long as a man's thumb, and so cunningly carved she almost expected them to twitch with life.

Althea suddenly realized how long she had been staring. Unwillingly she met Amber's gaze again. The woman smiled questioningly at her. When Althea kept her own features perfectly still, the woman's smile faded to a look of disdain. That expression did not change as she set a slender-fingered hand to her flat belly. As if those gloved fingers had touched her own midsection, Althea felt a chill dread spread throughout her. She glanced once more at Amber's face; it now looked set and purposeful. She stared at Althea like an archer fixing his eye on his target. In all the hurrying, busy folk, they were abruptly alone, eyes locked, impervious to the crowd. With an effort as physical as pulling away from a grasping hand, Althea turned and fled up the docks, back towards the Bingtown Market.