“What?” It was her turn to be shocked. “Why ask such a thing? Of course, I need . . .”

“Because I thought that if you were happy with Kennit, perhaps he'd let me go. Both of you could just put me ashore on the mainland. I could make my own way back to the monastery and my life. I could put all this behind me, as something I couldn't change anyway.” He paused. “You'd be rid of me also, just as you are rid of my father.”

“You sound like a jealous child,” she retorted.

“You haven't answered my question.”

In that moment, she did. She opened herself to him, and he felt her pain at his hard words.

“Oh,” Wintrow said softly. That was all. His gaze followed hers. The Marietta rocked at anchor so close by that Wintrow could see the face of the man on watch. Sorcor had not been pleased when an anxious Brig had sent to ask if he had word of the captain. The new, closer position of the other ship reflected his renewed watchfulness.

She cut to the heart of the squabble. “Why are you jealous that I care for Kennit? You would do away with the bond you and I share, if you could. He is the opposite. He strives so earnestly to build a tie between us. He speaks to me as no one else ever has. He comes up here, while you are off and about your tasks, and he tells me stories. Not just tales from his life, but folk-tales, and stories he has heard from other people. And he listens to me when I speak. He asks me what I think, and what I would like to do. He tells me his plans for his kingdom and the people he will rule. When I make a suggestion, he is pleased. Have you any idea how nice that is, to have someone tell you things and listen in return to what you say?”

“I do.” It put him in mind of his monastery, but he did not say the words aloud. He did not need to.

“I do not know why you will not give him a chance,” she suddenly burst out. “I cannot claim to know him as I know you. However, this we both have seen; he harbors more affection and goodwill toward you than your father ever did. He thinks of others. Ask him, sometime, to show you the plans he has drawn for Divvytown. He has given it great thought, how he would build a tower to warn them of danger, and where he would put the wells to have cleaner water. Askew, too. He has drawn a chart of Askew, with a breakwater to improve the harbor, and docks drawn in. If only they would listen to him and live their lives as he directed, things would be so much better for them. He wants to make things tidy and better. Moreover, he wants to be your friend, Wintrow. Perhaps what he did to Kyle was high-handed, but you did request it. He could have gained the goodwill of the slaves by turning Kyle over to them. His torture and death would have been a spectacle for Divvytown that would have brought Kennit great renown. Surely, you must know that. Alternatively, he could have ransomed him back to your mother, beggaring the Vestrit family in the process of enriching his own coffers. He did neither of those things. Instead, he simply set that nasty, small-hearted man aside, in a place where he cannot hurt you or others.”

She drew a breath, then seemed out of words. Wintrow felt overwhelmed by what she had said. He had not known Kennit dreamed such dreams. Her reasoning seemed valid, but her defense of the pirate still stung him. “That is why he is a pirate, I suppose. To do good?”

The ship was insulted. “I do not pretend he is selfless. Nor that his methods are above reproach. Yes, he savors power and longs for more of it. When he gains it, he does good with it. He frees slaves. Would you prefer he stood and spouted platitudes about the brotherhood of man? What is all your longing to return to your monastery, but a desire to retreat from what is wrong in the world?”

Wintrow gaped in wordless astonishment. A moment later, she bravely confessed, “He has asked me to pirate with him. Did you know that?”

Wintrow tried to remain calm. “No. But I expected it.” Bitterness broke through in his voice.

“Well? What would be so wrong with it?” she demanded defensively. “You see the good he does. I know his ways are harsh. He has admitted that to me himself. He has asked me if I would be able to cope with what I must witness. I have told him honestly of that horrid night when the slaves rose. Do you know what he said?”

“No. What did he say?” Wintrow struggled to master his emotions. She was so gullible, so naive. Didn't she see how the pirate was playing her?

“That it was like cutting off his leg. He had suffered a long misery, thinking it might get better if he did nothing. You made him see he had to endure a far greater pain before his anguish could be over. He believed in you, and you were right. He asked me to recall all I had shared of the slaves' torment, and then to consider that in other ships, that torment continued. It is not piracy, but surgery he performs.”