Brashen's emotions churned. What should he do? He was one man alone. He had no way to make his presence known to her or the ship. Anything he tried now would likely just get him killed, and no one in Bingtown would ever know what had become of any of them. His dull fingernails bit right through his callused palms. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to think what, if anything, he could do.

Captain Finney spoke softly from close behind him. “Sure you don't know her?”

Brashen managed a shrug. His voice was too tight. “I could have seen her before ... I don't know. I was just marveling. A liveship, taken by a pirate. That's a first.”

“No, it ain't.” Finney spat over the side. “Legend says that Igrot the Bold took a liveship and used it for years. That's how he managed to take the Satrap's treasure ship. Fleet as it was, it couldn't outrun a liveship. After that, Igrot lived like a gentleman. The best of everything for himself, women, wine, servants, clothes. Lived very elegant, they say. He had an estate in Chalced and a palace in the Jade Islands. It has been said that when Igrot knew he was dying, he hid his treasure and scuttled his liveship. If he couldn't take the damn thing with him, he was going to be sure no one else got it.”

“I've never heard that before.”

“Probably not. It's not a commonly told tale. They say he kept it painted and made it keep still so no one would know what he had.”

.Brashen shrugged stiffly. “Sounds to me like he had a regular ship, but just lied about it to make people think it was a liveship. Maybe,” he added in a more conciliatory tone. He glanced about the deck to be sure they were alone, then shifted the conversation abruptly. “Cap. Remember what we talked about, months ago? About how maybe you'd like to make a little side run into Bingtown if I knew of anyone who could make you a good price on some choice bits?”

Finney gave a short, guarded nod.

“Well, I've just been thinking. If you were to buy that portrait from Faldin, well, the place it would sell best is Bingtown. That's where folk would know what it was and how much it was worth.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing. He tried to look like a man well pleased with himself.

“And that's also where a man could get into the hottest water, selling such a thing,” Finney pointed out suspiciously.

Brashen affected a casualness he did not feel. “Not if you knew the right people and pitched it the right way. Now, if you came to town, and I hooked you up with the right go-between, why, you could make it seem like you were doing a good deed. Just bringing the portrait home, with a sad tale of what you knew. Leave it to the go-between that such a kind-hearted trader captain deserved a hefty reward for such a turn.”

Finney moved a quid of cindin in his lip. “Maybe. But the trip wouldn't be worth it just to unload one piece.”

“Of course not! I'm just betting that would be the plum piece of the deal. It might bring you a lot more than you'd imagine.”

“Maybe a lot more trouble than I'd imagined, too.” Finney scowled into the sunset. After a time, he asked, “What else do you suppose might go there?”

Brashen shrugged. “Anything Bingtown can't make for itself or get from further north. Think spices, teas . . . Jamaillian spirits and wines. Exotic stuff from the southlands, or good Jamaillian antiques. That sort of thing.”

“You know of someone who would be the go-between?”

Brashen tilted his head. “I've thought of a likely candidate.” He gave a brief chuckle. “If all else failed, I suppose I could try doing it myself.”

Finney wordlessly held out his hand. Brashen took it and in the clasp the deal was sealed. He felt a deep sense of relief. He had a way to carry word back to Bingtown. Surely Ronica Vestrit would have the wherewithal to rescue both her daughter and her ship from these pirates. He glanced back at the Vivacia and Althea apologetically. This flimsy plan was the best rescue effort he could offer. He prayed Althea and the ship would both be well until then.

He swore suddenly and vehemently.

“What's the matter?” Finney demanded.

“Nothing. Just got a splinter under my nail. I'll put the boys to sanding this railing tomorrow.” He turned away from his captain and made a pretense of examining his hand.

In the distance, the slim silhouette urinated off the side of the Vivacia.

SUMMER

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Interlude

IT WAS NOT A TRUE TANGLE, SHREEVER REFLECTED TO HERSELF. A TRUE tangle gathered itself to follow a respected leader. These were stray serpents whom they had picked up one or two at a time as the provider moved north and the tangle followed it. The serpents that swam alongside them now shared no camaraderie with Maulkin's tangle. They were simply following the same food source. Still, there was comfort in the company of other serpents. Some of them seemed almost lucid at times. Others were ghost-like in their silence and blank stares. The worst ones were little better than animals, likely to turn venom or fangs on anyone who came too close to food they had claimed. Shreever, Maulkin and Sessurea had learned to ignore those who had reverted to such a bestial level. In truth, their presence was not the hardest to bear. The heart-wringing ones were those who were pathetically close to recalling who they were and what they had been.