She turned and waved gaily as she walked away from him. She told herself they meant well, all the people who wished her success and then warned her about Paragon. Even Trell. Sometimes she had to work to remember that.

The work had gone better than anyone had expected it to. Their small budget had been supplemented by Amber's mysterious influence. No less an artisan than Nole Plate had come down to volunteer his services in setting up the canvas for the new rigging. Althea couldn't imagine what Amber knew about Nole that had prompted the stingy old man to be so suddenly generous with his time. Some nasty little secret, she didn't doubt. Yesterday, a score casks of ship's biscuit had been donated by a well-wisher who insisted on remaining anonymous. Althea suspected Amber's hand there, as well.

But the most useful had been Amber's slave recruits who quietly arrived in the dark of night, after Brashen had sent home the regular workers, to slip aboard Paragon and toil until dawn almost grayed the skies. Then they would disperse as swiftly as they had arrived. They spoke little and worked hard. Every face was tattooed. She hated to think what risks they took to slip away from their masters each night. Althea suspected that when they sailed, most of the night crew would be belowdecks. They'd fill out the hired crew as fighters and seamen. How this had been arranged, she didn't want to know. Brashen had tried to take her into his confidence about it one afternoon. She had lifted her hands to her ears. “A secret is kept best by one,” she reminded him.

He had looked pleased.

That thought brought a smile to her own face. She shook her head at herself. Why should she care if he were pleased with her or not? He'd made very little effort to please her with his latest decision. It should have been a monumental argument, but damn Brashen had insisted on remembering his privileges as captain.

At least he had summoned her into the captain's quarters before breaking the news to her. No one would see her angry face, but the missing window meant that any passerby might hear raised voices. Brashen had sat nonchalantly at the newly refinished chart table. He was studying a handful of canvas scraps he'd taken from a bag.

“I did as was my right. I hired my own first mate.” He had cocked his head at her maddeningly. “Wouldn't you have done the same in my position?”

“Yes,” she had hissed. “But I'd have hired you, damn you. I thought that was the agreement.”

“No,” he replied thoughtfully. He set a scrap of canvas down on the table, pushed at it thoughtfully, then seemed to decide the sketch on it was upside down. “There was no agreement about that. Save that you would sail with me ... with the Paragon when he sailed. We made no other agreement. As you might recall, I suggested some time ago that you not work alongside the men, in light of the type of men I'd have to hire.”

She had made a small sound of disgust. Some of them barely merited the title of men. She took a breath to speak, but he held up a hand.

“Any other ship, any other crew, you would have been first for me. You know that. But this crew will need a whip hand. Sweet reason will not sway many of these men. The real threat of a physical thrashing may.”

“I could hold my own,” she lied gamely.

He shook his head. “You're not big enough. They wouldn't respect you until after they'd challenged you and had it proven to them. Even if you won, it would be more violence on the Paragon than I am willing to risk. If you lost-” He didn't go into the consequences of that. “So I've hired a man who is big enough and strong enough that most of the men won't want to challenge him. Those that do will certainly lose. I've hired Lavoy. He is a brute, and that's one of the kinder things we can say about him. He's also a damn fine sailor. If it weren't for his temperament, he'd have risen to command years ago. I told him that I was giving him a chance on the Paragon. If he proves out here, all of Bingtown will know that he could be mate anywhere. He's hungry for this chance, Althea. The opportunity is what hired him; the coin I could offer was no better than he might get as a bully mate on a larger vessel. He wants to prove himself, but I suspect he doesn't have it in him. That's where you come in. I'm captain. He's the first. You will be second. We'll pin his authority between ours. Not undercut it, but moderate. Do you take my drift?”

“I suppose,” she replied grudgingly. She saw the logic of it, but it still rubbed her raw. “Second, then,” she conceded.

“There's something else. Something you'll like just as little,” he warned her.

“And that is?”