“Ay'll go. Ay'll sail wiff you.”

The boy blushed a bit when they all stared at him, but he didn't lower his eyes from Brashen's face. The plate of food looked as clean as if it had been washed. With the meal, the boy seemed to have taken on substance and spirit as well.

“That's a brave offer, lad, but you're a bit small yet.” Brashen could not quite keep the amusement from his voice.

The boy looked indignant. “I feshed wiff my Da, 'fore the slave raiders kem. Know ma way roun' a deck.” He shrugged his thin shoulders. “D'ruther do that'n shovel hosshit. Hosses stink.”

“You're free now. You can go anywhere you want. Wouldn't you rather go home to your family?” Keffria asked him gently.

His narrow face stilled. For an instant, it seemed as if her words had muted him again. Then he shrugged. His voice was harder and less boyish as he said, “Nothern but ashes'n bones there. D'ruther go back ta sea. S'my life, right? Freed, am't I?” He looked about defiantly as if he expected them to revoke that.

“You're free,” Althea assured him.

“Then 'm gone wiff him.” He tossed his head at Brashen, who shook his head slowly.

“There's another idea,” Malta broke in suddenly. “Buy a crew. I've seen some tattoo-faced sailors about Bingtown. Why couldn't we just buy some sailors?”

“Because slavery is wrong,” Amber pointed out dryly. “On the other hand, I know some slaves who might be willing to risk punishment by running away and joining the crew. They were stolen from homes and families in the pirate isles. They might be willing to take part in a chancy venture, if they were promised the opportunity to go home. Some might even know something of the waters.”

“Could we trust slave sailors?” Keffria asked hesitantly.

“On the ship, they wouldn't be slaves,” Brashen pointed out. “If it's a choice between an able-bodied runaway and a broken-down drunk, I'll hire the runaway. A little gratitude from a man given a second chance at life can go a long way.” He looked suddenly thoughtful as he said this.

“Who put you in charge of hiring?” Althea protested. “If we're going to do this, I'll want the final say on my crew.”

“Althea, you can't be thinking of sailing with them,” Keffria protested.

“How could you think I would not? If we are going after the Vivacia, I must be on board.” Althea stared at her sister as if she were crazy.

“It's completely inappropriate!” Keffria was aghast. “The Paragon will be an unreliable ship, with a motley crew, going into dangerous waters, possibly into battle. You can't possibly go. What would people think of the Vestrits if we allowed you to sail on such a ship?”

Althea's eyes grew flinty. “I worry more about what people would think if we were content to let others take all the risks of regaining our family ship. How can we say it is a vital errand and ask our friends for aid, but then say that it isn't worth one of the family taking a risk?”

“I think she should, actually.” This astonishing statement from Brashen left several of them gaping. He addressed his remarks to Keffria, acknowledging that the decision actually rested with her. “If you don't make it plain that this is a Vestrit venture, you won't get any of the other Traders to support it. They'll see it as entrusting a liveship to a ne'er-do-well, disinherited Trader's son and a foreigner. And if, I hope when, we regain the Vivacia, the ship will need Althea. Badly.” He met eyes cautiously as he added, “But I do not think she should sail as captain, mate or even crew. This is going to be a tough crew, one that will be kept in line by fists and brawn, initially, anyway. The type of men we'll end up with aren't going to respect anyone who can't pound them to the deck if he has to. You don't qualify. And if you're working alongside them, they aren't going to give you respect. They'll test your abilities at every turn. Sooner or later, you would get hurt.”

Althea's eyes narrowed. “I don't need you to look after me, Brashen Trell. Remember? I've proved my abilities, and they're not based just on body strength. My father always said it was a poor captain who had to keep his crew in line by blows.”

“Maybe because he felt that was the first mate's job,” Brashen retorted. He modified his tone as he added, “Your father was a fine captain with a wonderful ship, Althea. He could have paid low wages and still had good men willing to work for him. We won't have his options, I'm afraid.” Brashen yawned abruptly, then looked embarrassed. “I'm tired,” he said abruptly. “I need to get some sleep before we do anything further. I think we at least know what our difficulties will be.”