“Whatever your pleasure, mistress,” Jek replied. Her tongue put a strange foreign twist on the words. She shot Althea one speculative glance as she carefully backed out the door and closed it behind her.

“Where did you find her?” Althea asked incredulously.

“She's an old friend. She is going to be disappointed when she discovers you're a woman. And she will. Nothing escapes Jek. Not that there is any danger of her betraying your secret. She is as close-mouthed as can be. Sees all, tells nothing. The perfect servant.”

“It's funny. I never imagined you having servants of any kind.”

“It's my preference not to, but I'm afraid a guard for the shop became necessary. I decided to live elsewhere, and with the increase of burglary in Bingtown, I had to hire someone to watch my shop at night. Jek needed a place to live; the arrangement works wonderfully.” She took the chunk of wood from Althea's arms and set it aside. Then, to Althea's surprise, she seized her by both shoulders and held her at arm's length. “You do make a fetching youth. I can scarcely blame Jek for eyeing you.” She gave her a warm hug. As she released her, she added, “I am so glad to see you return unscathed. I have thought of you often and wondered how you fared. Come into the back. I'll make some tea and we can talk.”

As Amber spoke, she was leading the way. The back room was the cluttered cave Althea remembered. There were workbenches with scattered tools and partly finished beads. Clothes hung on hooks or were layered neatly into trunks. There was a bed in one corner and an unmade pallet in another. A small fire burned in the hearth.

“I'd love tea, but I haven't time just now. At least, not yet. I've a message to deliver first. However, as soon as I've done it, I'll come right back here. I intended to do so, even before you spotted me on the street.”

“It is very important to me that you do so,” Amber replied so seriously that Althea stared at her. In answer to that look, Amber added, “It's not something I can explain quickly.”

Althea's curiosity was piqued, but her own concerns pushed it aside. “I need to speak to you privately as well. It's a delicate matter. Perhaps I have no right to interfere, but she is-” She hesitated. “Perhaps now is actually the best time, even though I haven't spoken to Captain Tenira about this yet.” Althea paused, then plunged ahead. “I've been serving on the liveship Ophelia. She's been hurt, and I hope you can help her. A Chalcedean galley challenged us as we made our way back to Bingtown. Ophelia burned her hands fending them off. She says there is no pain, but she seems always to keep her hands clasped or otherwise hidden from view. I do not know how bad the damage is, or if a woodworker like yourself could do anything to repair scorched wood, but . . .”

“Challenged by a galley? And attacked?” Amber was horrified. “In the Inside Passage waters?” She exhaled in a rush. She stared past Althea, as if looking into a different time and place. Her voice went strange. “Fate rushes down upon us! The time drags and the days plod past, lulling us into thinking that the doom we fear will always so delay. Then, abruptly, the dark days we have all predicted are upon us, and the time when we could have turned dire fate aside has passed. How old must I be before I learn? There is no time; there is never any time. Tomorrow may never come, but todays are linked inexorably in a chain, and now is always the only time we have to divert disaster.”

Althea felt a sudden sense of vindication. This was the reaction she had hoped to get from her mother. Strange that it was a newcomer, and not even a Bingtown Trader who instantly grasped the full significance of her news. Amber had completely forgotten her earlier offer of tea. Instead she flung open a chest in the corner of the room and began to haul garments from it in frenzy. “Give me just a few moments and I shall be fit to accompany you. However, let us not waste an instant. Begin with the day you left here, and talk to me. Tell me everything of your travels, even those things you consider unimportant.” She turned to a small table and opened a box on it. She made a brisk check of its contents of pots and brushes, then tucked it under her arm.

Althea had to laugh. “Amber, that would take hours-no, days-to do.”

“Which is why we must begin now. Come. Start while I change.” Amber bundled up an armful of cloth and disappeared behind a wooden screen in the corner. Althea launched into an account of her experiences aboard the Reaper, She had barely got past her first miserable months and Brashen's discovery of her before Amber emerged from behind the screen. But it was not Amber who stood before her. Instead, it was a smudge-faced slave girl. A tattoo sprawled across one wind-reddened cheek. A crusty sore encompassed half her upper lip and her left nostril. Her dirty hair was pulling free from a scruffy braid. Her shirt was rough cotton and her bare feet peeked out from under her patched skirts. A dirty bandage bound one of her ankles. Rough canvas work gloves had replaced the lacy ones Amber habitually wore. She spread a dirty canvas tote on the table and began to load it with woodworking tools.