“He's here,” Kennit announced loudly. The laughing, grinning men suddenly sobered. They fell back from the door, making way for him. “Be about your work!” Kennit ordered them brusquely. “I'll deal with this.”

They dispersed quickly, but not willingly, with many a backward glance. The rumor of treasure was enough to hold any man's interest, but Igrot's treasure was legendary. Plainly, they would have liked to stay and hear what bait the man would trade for his life. Kennit ignored them. He lifted his crutch and gave the door a thump. “Come out,” he commanded the cook.

“You the captain?”

“I am. Show yourself.”

The man peeped one eye around the door, then darted back out of sight. “I got something to trade. You let me live, I'll tell you where Igrot the Bold stashed his loot. The whole lot. Not just all he got from the treasure barge, but all he took afore that.”

“No one knows where Igrot hid his treasure,” Kennit declared with confidence. “He and his whole crew went down together. No one survived. If anyone had, they would have plundered his trove a long time ago.” With amazing stealth, Kennit eased forward to stand immediately beside the doorjamb.

“Well, I did. Been waiting for years to get to where I could go back and get it. But I never was in the right position. Anytime I'd a told, all I woulda got is a knife in the back. And not just any man could go after it. It would take a special ship. A ship like you got, just the same as Igrot once had . . . and I'm sure you're taking my drift now. There's places as a liveship can go that no other can follow. But now, well, I told you enough. You keep me alive, I'll lead you there. But you gotta let me live.”

Kennit didn't reply. A stillness came over him. He was poised motionless beside the door. Wintrow glanced at Etta. She was as silent and motionless as Kennit. Waiting.

“Hey! Hey, you, Captain, what say you? Is it a deal? It's more treasure than you can ever imagine. Heaps of it, and half of it magical Bingtown Trader stuff. You could just walk right in and take it. You'll be the richest man alive. All you got to do is say I can live.” The cook sounded jubilant. “That's a fair trade, isn't it?”

The ship's list had begun to increase markedly. Wintrow could hear Sorcor and his men hurrying the slaves along. One man's voice raised suddenly. “He's dead, woman. Nothing we can do. Leave him.” A woman's sudden wail of anguish floated on the sea wind, but around the door, all was silent. Kennit made no reply to the cook.

“Hey? Hey, Cap, you out there still?”

Kennit's eyes narrowed as if in thought. Something almost like a smile played about his mouth. Wintrow felt a sudden shiver of nervousness. It was time to finish this and get off this ship. It was taking on water, and as the vessel grew heavier, the sea gained more power over it. He took a breath to speak but Etta elbowed him sharply. What happened next occurred simultaneously. Wintrow was left staring, trying to comprehend. Did Kennit's knife hand move first or did he glimpse the motion of the man peering around the door? The two objects came together as swiftly and synchronously as clapping hands. Kennit's blade sank deep into the man's good eye and then was pulled out. The man's body tumbled back out of sight. “There are no survivors from Igrot's crew,” Kennit asserted. He took an uneven breath. When he looked around, he blinked as if awakening from a dream.

“Stop dallying here. This ship is going down,” he exclaimed in annoyance. Bloody knife still gripped in his hand, he stalked back to the Vivacia. Etta walked almost beside him. The woman appeared unfazed by what had just happened. Wintrow trailed them numbly. How did death happen so swiftly? How could the whole equation of a man's life be so swiftly reduced to zero? What he had done was an immense shock to the youth. A brief extension of the pirate's hand, and death bloomed. Yet, the holder of the knife felt nothing. Wintrow felt scored by his association with the man. He suddenly longed for Vivacia. She would help him think about this. She would say there was no justification for the guilt that he felt.

Kennit's boot had no sooner touched the deck of the Vivacia than the ship called out to him. “Kennit! Captain Kennit!” Her voice boomed in assertive command. There was a note in it that Wintrow had never heard. Kennit grinned in hard satisfaction. “Get the slaves settled and cut that hulk loose!” he ordered brusquely. He glanced at Wintrow and Etta. “See that they are made as clean as possible. Keep them aft.” He turned and hastened away from them and toward the figurehead.

“He wants to be alone with her.” Etta stated it as blunt fact. Jealousy flamed in her eyes.