There had been four unoccupied bunks for him to choose from; evidently Leftrin had once had a much larger crew on his ship. Sedric had chosen a lower bunk, and Skelly had not been too prickly about removing all the clutter from it so he could use it. She’d even tossed two blankets onto it for him. The bunks were narrow and cramped. He sat on the edge of his and tried not to think of fleas or lice or larger vermin. The neatly folded blanket on it had looked clean enough but he’d only seen it by lamplight. Through the sounds of the sleeping crew, he could hear the purling of the water outside. The river, so gray and wet and acid, seemed closer and more threatening than it had when he was on the tall and stately liveship. The barge sat lower and closer to the water. The ripe green smell of the water and the surrounding jungly forest penetrated the room.

When night fell and darkness flowed like a second river over the water, the crew had poled the barge to the river shallows and then tied it to the trees there. The ropes they had used were thick and heavy, and surely the knots were secure. But the river wanted the barge, and it sucked at it greedily, making the vessel sway gently and tug creakily against the ropes that bound it. Now and then the barge gave an awkward lurch, as if it had dug in its heels and refused to be dragged out into the current. He wondered what would happen if the knots gave way. There was, he reminded himself, a man on watch; Big Eider would stay up half the night, keeping an eye on things before rousing Hennesey to take his turn. And the captain himself had been up on the deck, still smoking his pipe, when Sedric had finally decided that he would have to give in and sleep in the noisome deckhouse. He had briefly entertained the notion of sleeping out on the open deck; the night was mild enough. But then the stinging gnats had begun to hover and hum, and he had hastened to come inside.

He took off his boots and set them by the edge of the bunk. He folded his jacket and set it reluctantly across the foot of his bed. Then, still clothed, he lay back on top of the thin mattress and blanket. The pillow seemed little more than a larger lump on the bed. It smelled strongly of whoever had last slept in this bunk. He sat up, retrieved his jacket, and put it under his head. “Only for two days,” he whispered to himself. He could stand this for two days, couldn’t he? Then the barge would dock in Cassarick, they’d disembark, and Alise would, he was confident, find a way to be allowed to study her dragons. And he’d be there, cloaked with her credentials and awaiting his opportunities. They’d stay no longer than six days, ample time as he had already pointed out to her. And then they’d return to Trehaug, board the Paragon, and head back to Bingtown. And his new future.

Home. He missed it badly. Clean sheets and large airy rooms and well-cooked food and freshly laundered clothes. Was that so much to ask of life? Just that things be clean and pleasant? That one’s table-mates didn’t chew with open mouths, or allow cats to hook bits of meat off the platter? “I just like things to be nice,” he said plaintively to the darkness. And then winced at the memory the words conjured.

He recalled it so clearly. He’d squared his shoulders, swallowed hard, and stood his ground. “I don’t want to go.”

“It will make a man of you!” his father had insisted. “And it’s a big opportunity for you, Sedric. It’s a chance not just to prove yourself, but to prove yourself to a man who can advance you in Bingtown. I’ve pulled a few strings to get you this opportunity; half the lads in Bingtown would be willing to jump through hoops to get it. Trader Marley has an opening for a deckhand on his new ship. You won’t be alone; there will be other lads of your age living aboard and learning how to work the decks. The friends you’ll make there will be friends you keep for life! Work hard, bring yourself to the captain’s attention, and it could lead to bigger things for you. Trader Marley’s a wealthy man, in daughters as well as ships and money. If he comes to look favorably on you, well, there’s no telling what future it might bring you.”

“Tracia Marley’s a very pretty girl,” his mother added helpfully.

He had felt trapped between the hopeful gazes of both his parents. His numerous sisters had already finished their tea and hurried away from the table. They’d be off to the gardens or the music room or visiting their friends. Yet here he sat, hedged in by his parents’ dreams for him. Dreams he couldn’t share.

“But I don’t want to work on a boat,” he said carefully. As his father’s mouth narrowed and his eyes darkened, he added hastily, “I don’t mind working. Really, that’s true. But why can’t it be in a shop or an office? Somewhere clean and light, with pleasant people.” He turned his gaze on his mother and added quickly, “I hate the thought of being away from my family for so long. Ships are gone from Bingtown for months, sometimes years. How could I stand not seeing you for that long?”