All was at peace on the anchored vessel. The ship had been tidier and better run since he had reduced the crew in Divvytown. Most of the rescued slaves had been glad to leave the crowded ship. Some had wished to remain. He had sieved those rigorously. Some had simply not been able sailors. Others were too surly. Not all those with multiple tattoos across their faces were free spirits who would not bow to slavery. Some, quite simply, were men and women too stupid to learn their tasks well and do them willingly. He did not want them any more than their former owners had. A dozen former slaves, victims of Sa'Adar's influence, had insisted on remaining aboard. Kennit had graciously allowed it. It had been his only concession to their claim to own the ship. Doubtless, they still hoped for more. Doubtless they would be disappointed. Three others he had kept aboard for his own reasons. They would serve their purposes tonight.

He found Ankle leaning on the forward railing. Not far from her, Wintrow was sprawled in the deep sleep of exhaustion. Kennit permitted himself a small smile. Brig had taken his request that the boy be kept very busy for a few days literally. The girl turned to the tapping of his peg on the deck. Ankle's wide dark eyes watched him approach with trepidation. She was not as fearful as she had been at first. A few days after he had taken the ship, Etta had put a stop to the freed men and crew using her for sex. The girl herself had not seemed to object, so Kennit had seen no problem with it, but Etta had insisted she was too addled by ill use to know how to resist their advances. Later Wintrow had told him what he knew of the girl. Ankle had gone mad in the hold and crippled herself struggling against her fetters. Wintrow believed she had been normal when she had first been put belowdecks. No one on board seemed to know anything else about her, not even her name or age. A shame, Kennit supposed, that her mind was gone. She would always limp. She was worse than useless aboard the ship, for she ate food and took up space that could have been given to an able man. He would have put her off in Divvytown if both Etta and Wintrow had not interceded for her. When Vivacia, too, had spoken out in her behalf, Kennit had allowed himself to be swayed. Nevertheless, it was time to be done with her. It was the kindest thing to do. A pirate ship was not a nursery for blighted souls.

He made a small gesture to her to come to him. She advanced a single hesitant step.

“What will you do with her?” Vivacia spoke softly from the shadows.

“I mean no harm to her. You know me well enough now to understand that.” He glanced toward Wintrow. “But let's not wake the lad.” He made his suggestion in a kindly tone.

The figurehead was silent for a time. “I sense you believe you are doing what is right for her. But I cannot see what that is.” After a time, she added, “You block me. There are portions of your heart that you have never allowed me to see. You keep secrets from me.”

“Yes. Just as you keep secrets from me. You have to trust me in this. Do you?” He made a small test of the question.

She was silent. He walked forward, past Ankle, who cowered slightly as he passed her. He took her place on the forward rail and leaned down to the ship. “Good evening, sweet sea-lady,” he greeted the ship, as if they were the first words he had spoken to her. His utterance was little more than a whisper on the evening wind.

“It is more like a good night, gentle sir,” she replied in kind.

He extended his hand to her and she twisted to reach up her large fingers to touch his. “I trust you are well. Tell me.” He gestured at the surrounding panorama of scattered islands. “What do you think of my islands, now that you have seen a bit of them?”

She made a warm sound in her throat. “There is a unique beauty to them. The warmth of the water, the drifting mists that veil and reveal them . . . even the birds that flock here are different. More colorful, and more tuneful in their songs than most seabirds. I have not seen such plumage since Captain Vestrit took me on a voyage far to the southlands. . . .” Her voice trailed away.

“You still miss him, don't you? I'm sure he was a fine captain, and showed you many wondrous places. But if you trust me, my lady, you and I shall see places even more exotic, and have adventures even more exciting.” There was an almost jealous note in his voice as he asked, “Do you recall him that well? I had thought you were not quickened then.”

“I recall him like one recalls a good dream in the morning. Nothing is sharp, but a scent, a horizon, the taste of a current, will seem familiar and a memory comes with it. If Wintrow is with me, it is sharper. I can convey to him far more detail than I can speak.”

“I see.” He changed the subject. “Nevertheless, you have never been in these parts before, have you?”