Ronica and Keffria had handled what she now thought of as a ransoming. Althea had not been able to bring herself to take any part in it. She avoided Davad, for she did not think she could speak to him civilly, yet she dared not offend him.

She dropped the rest of the way down the ladder. As her boots thumped the deck, she announced, “The others are coming. Mother is just down the beach. I'm afraid Trader Restart has chosen to tag along as well. I hope he has the good sense to keep his mouth shut, but I doubt it. Have you spoken to Paragon yet?” Her eyes were on Amber. It was easier so. There was no enmity between Brashen and her, but no comfort either.

“Not yet!” Amber looked stricken. “I wanted you to be here. I did not expect the others so soon.”

“They're early. We could send Clef down the beach to them, to ask them to wait until we signal them.”

Amber pondered a moment. “No. I think the sooner it is done, the better. He will rant and pout, I fear, but I suspect that secretly he may rejoice, also.” She gave a small sigh. “Let's go.”

Althea followed Amber up the ladder, with Brashen close behind her. Out on the beach again, they found Clef sitting on a rock before Paragon. Clefs face was bright red; he was trying to catch his breath. Paragon blew on his pipe, making an abrupt farting sound, and they both went off into gales of laughter. The ship lifted his free hand to smother his giggles, but the boy laughed loud and heartily. Althea halted and stared. Behind her, Brashen joined in their laughter. The Paragon turned blindly toward them and grinned. “So, here you are.”

“Here we are,” Amber agreed. “All of us.” She approached the figurehead, then reached up a gloved hand to touch his forearm. “Paragon. We are all here because we want to speak to you about something. Something very important.”

The laughter faded from his face, replaced by uncertainty. “Something bad?”

“Something good,” Amber said soothingly. “At least, we all think so.” She looked around at the others and then glanced down the beach. Althea followed her gaze. Her mother and Amis Ludluck would be with them very soon. “It's about a chance we have to do something good, with your help. We can't do it without you.”

“I'm not a child,” the ship said. “Speak plainly.” His anxiety was building. “How could we be together? What good thing?”

Amber rubbed at her face nervously. She glanced again at Althea and Brashen, then focused herself on the ship. “I know you're not a child. I'm not doing this well, because I am so afraid you won't want to join us. Paragon, here it is. You know of the Vestrit family's liveship, Vivacia. Pirates have captured her. You know all about it. You've heard us talking about it, wondering what to do. Well. Althea wants to go and rescue them. Brashen and I want to go, too.” She took a breath. “We want you to be the ship that takes us there. How would you feel about that?”

“Pirates,” he said breathlessly. He scratched at his beard with his free hand. “I don't know. I do not know. I like you all. I like being with you. No ship should be left with pirates. They're terrible creatures.”

Althea began to breathe again. It was going to be all right.

“Have the Ludlucks said they'll take me there?”

Brashen coughed nervously. Amber glanced around, inviting one of them to speak, but neither offered. “The Ludlucks will allow you to take us there.”

“But who . . . you can't mean there won't be a member of my family aboard?” He was incredulous. “No liveship sails without a member of his family aboard.”

Brashen cleared his throat. “I'll be there, Paragon. After all the years we've known one another, you're as close to family as I have. Would I do?”

“No. No, Brashen.” The ship's voice rose nervously. “I like you, I do, but you're not a Ludluck and I am. You're my friend, but not my family. I can't sail without a family member aboard.” He shook his head, emphasizing it. “They wouldn't let that happen to me. That would be like them saying that they'd given up on me forever, that I'll never, ever be any good. No.” He gripped the shepherd's pipes with both hands, but still they shook. “No.”

Althea's mother and Amis Ludluck had halted. Amis was staring at the Paragon. She crossed her arms in front of her and set her mouth in a flat line. Althea read both denial and rejection there. She was glad the ship was blind. Davad was puffing, striving to close the distance and catch up with them.

“Paragon,” she said calmingly. “Please. Listen to me. It has been years since there was a Ludluck aboard you. You have been alone, save for us. Nevertheless, you have survived. I think you are different from most liveships. I think you have a sense of yourself apart from your family. I think you have learned to be ... independent.”