“Amber has bought her right to be aboard. She's put more coin and time into this than any other sailor aboard, and I include us both in that. I don't know what sort of a sailor she'll make; she's told me she has little taste for traveling by ship. She's proven herself a fine carpenter, in matters both great and small. So that will be her capacity aboard the vessel. She'll bunk in with you.”

Althea gave a groan of protest.

“And Jek,” he added remorselessly. “She wanted to come along, she has good sea time from the Six Duchies, and she was willing to hire on cheap, 'for the dare of it' as she told me. You've seen her up the rigging when we strung it. She's nimble and fearless. I'd be a fool to refuse such a hand. I'd also be a fool to house her in with the dock scrapings we've taken on as crew. There's at least one who's been branded as a rapist, and another that even I won't turn my back on.” He shrugged. “She'll bunk in with you and Amber. I'll put you on different watches, so you shouldn't be too crowded to sleep.”

“We're going to be stacked like cordwood in there,” Althea complained.

“Amber is as displeased about it as you are. She claims that some solitary time each day is essential to her. I've told her I'll give her some access to my room when I'm not in it. Same goes for you.”

“That'll cause talk amongst the crew.”

Brashen had grinned sourly. “Let's just hope that's the most unsettling thing they have to gossip about.”

That was a sentiment Althea fervently shared. Even now, as she made her way down the sun-swept dock toward the ship, she prayed for an ordinary day. Let Paragon not be weeping endlessly into his hands, or reciting the same bawdy poem over and over. Some days, when she arrived and he gave her a pleasant good morning, it was like a direct blessing from Sa. Yesterday when she got to the dock, he had been holding a dead flounder some passing wag had given him. For some reason, the dead fish upset him, and yet he would not give it to her or put it down himself. Amber had finally coaxed it away from him. Sometimes she was the only one who could handle him.

Their total complement of crew members had been hired several days ago, and several times since then. Brashen would find sailors, convince them to sign aboard, and get them moved on, only to have them walk the next day. It wasn't just the bizarre things Paragon said or did. Like the smell of fear-sweat, his madness flavored the air of the ship. Those sensitive enough to feel it without knowing the source suffered nightmares, or sudden panics while working in the holds. Neither Brashen nor Althea tried to force any man to remain aboard. Althea knew it was better to lose them now than to have jittery or frightened men aboard once they set sail. It was still becoming a local joke. The mongrelized crew was unusual enough by Bingtown standards, without men jumping ship in the harbor and spreading rumors of the odd goings-on aboard the ship.

Today Paragon seemed calm enough. At least, she did not hear him ranting. As she reached his slip, the traffic along the dock seemed normal. “Hey, Paragon,” she greeted him as she passed the figurehead on the way to the gangplank.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied affably. Amber was sitting on the bow rail swinging her legs. Her freed hair floated on the wind. She had adopted a strange style of dress of late, loose pantaloons and a blouse with a vest. As a foreigner in Bingtown, she could get away with such things. Althea envied her.

“Any word of the Ringsgold?” Paragon asked as she passed him.

“Not that I've heard,” she replied. “Why?”

“There's been talk that he's late returning to Bingtown. The ships that should have seen him, haven't.”

Althea's heart sank in her. “Well, a lot of things can delay a ship, even a liveship,” she pointed out jovially.

“Of course,” Paragon replied. “Pirates. Serpents. Deadly storms.”

“Unfavorable winds,” Althea countered. “Delays loading cargo.”

He gave a snort of contempt. Amber shrugged her shoulders at Althea. Well, at least he was rational today. Althea continued to the gangplank and came aboard. Lavoy was standing in the center of the deck. His fists were on his hips and he was glaring about with a hard eye. This was the most difficult, grating part.

“Reporting, sir,” she said stiffly.

He gave her a fish-eyed look. His gaze traveled up and down her and his mouth twisted in contempt. “So I see,” he said after a moment. “Supplies are coming aboard today. Pick a crew of six men and get below. Stow the goods as they come on. You know how to do that.” There was just the slightest bit of a question in his voice.