That as much as anything had convinced her she had to act the next time Haff stepped out of line. The problem was, she still had no idea what to do. Second mate was a hard position to hold down. She was both of the crew and above them. Neither officer nor honest seaman, she had to walk this line alone.

“What would you like to do about Haff?” Amber asked her quietly from the bottom bunk.

“It spooks me when you do that,” Althea complained.

“I've explained it before. It's an obvious trick, used at every fair you've ever been to. You've been shifting about up there as if your bunk is full of ants. I simply picked the most likely cause of your anxiety.”

“Right,” Althea replied skeptically. “To answer your question, I'd like to kick him in the balls.”

“Exactly the wrong tack,” Amber told her in a superior way. “Every man that witnessed it would wince and imagine himself in Haff's place. It would be seen as a whore's trick, a woman hitting a man where he is most vulnerable. You can't be seen that way. You have to be perceived as a mate giving an uppity hand a take-down.”

“Suggestions?” Althea asked warily. It was unnerving to have Amber cut so swiftly to the heart of a problem.

“Prove you're better than he is, that you deserve to be second mate. That's his real problem, you know. He thinks that if you stepped aside and became a passenger, he'd step up into your spot.”

“And he would,” Althea conceded. “He's a competent sailor and a natural leader. He'd be a good second, or even a first.”

“Well, there's your other option. Step aside and let him be second.”

“No. That's my spot,” Althea growled.

“Then defend it,” Amber suggested. “But because you're already on top, you have to fight fair. You have to show him up. Wait for your moment, watch for it, then seize it. It has to be real. The rest of the crew has to have no doubt. Prove you're a better sailor than he is, that you deserve what you've got.” Althea heard Amber shift in her own bunk.

Althea lay still, pondering a disturbing idea. Was she better than Haff? Did she deserve to be mate over him? Why shouldn't he take the position from her? Althea closed her eyes. That was something she'd have to sleep on.

With a muttered oath, Amber kicked at her footboard, then turned her pillow over. She settled down, only to shift again an instant later.

“I haven't your gift. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?” Althea called down.

“You wouldn't understand,” Amber complained. “No one can.”

“Try me,” Althea challenged her.

Amber took a long breath and sighed it out. “I'm wondering why you aren't a nine-fingered slave-boy. I'm wondering how Paragon can be both a frightened boy and a cruel-hearted man. I'm wondering if I should be aboard this ship at all, or if I was supposed to stay in Bingtown and watch over Malta.”

“Malta?” Althea asked incredulously. “What does Malta have to do with any of this?”

“That,” Amber pointed out wearily, “is exactly what I would love to know.”

“SOMETHING IS WRONG, SIR! WITH DIVVYTOWN, I MEAN.”

Gankis stood framed in Kennit's stateroom door. The old pirate looked more distressed than Kennit had ever seen him. He had taken off his hat and stood wringing it. Kennit felt his stomach turn with a sudden premonition. He didn't let it show on his face.

He raised one eyebrow queryingly. “Gankis, there are many things wrong with Divvytown. Which particular one has brought you to my door?”

“Brig sent me, sir, to tell you the smell is bad. The smell of Divvytown, that is. Well, it's always bad, coming into Divvytown, but now it's real bad. Like wet ashes-”

There. Like an icy finger in the small of his back. The moment the old hand mentioned it, Kennit was aware of it. It was faint inside the closed cabin, but there. It was the old smell of disaster, one he had not scented in a long time. Odd, how a smell brought memories back sharper than any other prod to the senses. Screaming in the night, and flowing blood, both slick and sticky. Flames, lifting to the sky. Nothing quite like the smell of burned houses, mixed with death.

“Thank you, Gankis. Tell Brig I'll be up shortly.”

The door shut behind the sailor. He had been very troubled. Divvytown was as close to a homeport as this crew had. They all knew what the smell meant, but Gankis hadn't been able to bring himself to say it. Divvytown had been raided, probably by slavers. It was not an unusual event in a pirate town. Years ago, under the old Satrap, there had been fleets of raiding ships that had cruised these waters just for that purpose. They had found and wiped out a great many of the old pirate strongholds. Divvytown had weathered those years, undiscovered. In the lax years of the old Satrap's dying reign and Cosgo's incompetent one, the pirate towns had been undisturbed. They had learned both carelessness and prosperity. He had tried to warn them, but no one in Divvytown would listen to him.