Althea abruptly decided to escape, at least for now. "I'm going up to bathe and change. I won't be long."

"It won't take long for me to tell you our idea," Brashen countered pushily.

Their gazes locked. She refused to look aside from him. He himself smelled of smoke and cindin. Who did he think he was? She wasn't going to let him bully her here in her father's house. "I'm afraid I'm much too tired to listen to any more from you, Brashen Trell." Her voice walked a thin line between correct and cold as she added, "I believe it's far too late for conversation." The line of his mouth flattened. For a moment, he almost looked hurt at her rebuff.

Rache coming into the room interrupted their standoff. She carried a tray with a large pot of tea and cups on it. There was a small plate of spice cakes, just enough to be polite. The boy didn't move from where he stood, but he flared his nose and snuffed after them like a dog.

"Althea." Her mother's tone more reminded than rebuked. "I, at least, am interested in what Brashen has to propose. I think we need to consider every possible solution to our situation. If you are that tired, we will, of course, excuse you. But I'd rather that you returned." Her mother's gaze traveled to the serving woman. She smiled at her apologetically. "Rache, if you don't mind, I think we'll need more cups. And something more substantial than spice cakes for the boy, please." Ronica's voice was as measured and controlled as if this were an everyday occurrence.

Her mother's courtesy jabbed at Althea's conscience. This was still her father's house. She softened her tone. "If you wish, Mother. If you'll excuse me, I'll only be a few moments."

KEFFRIA POURED FOR THEIR ODD GUESTS. SHE TRIED TO MAKE POLITE CONversation, but her mother stared at the cold grate while Brashen paced the room. Amber chose to sit cross-legged on the floor not far from where the boy hovered. She ignored Keffria's attempts at small talk. Instead, she lured the slave-boy with bits of cake, as if he were a shy puppy, until he finally snatched a whole cake from her hand. Amber did not seem to think her own behavior odd or outrageous at all. She smiled proudly when the boy stuffed the whole cake into his mouth. "You see," she said to him quietly. "Folk are kind here. You're safe now."

Althea was true to her word. Rache had scarcely come back with more tea, cups and a plate of warmed food for the boy before she returned. She must have washed with cold water to be so quick, Keffria thought to herself. She was attired in a simple house-robe. Her wet hair had been braided and pinned up severely. The cold water had rouged her cheeks. She somehow managed to look both tired and freshened. Without any apologies, she helped herself to tea and cakes. She glanced at Amber, then went to join her on the floor. The boy sat on the other side of her, completely engrossed in his food. She addressed her first words to Amber. "Brashen says you have a plan to save the Vivacia. He also told me I wouldn't like it, but that I'd come to see it was the only way. What is it?"

Amber gave Brashen a sidelong glance. "Thank you for preparing her so well," she said with dry sarcasm. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug followed by a sigh. "It is late. I think I should state it briefly, and then leave you all to think about it." The woman flowed smoothly to her feet, as if a string attached to her head had lifted her from the floor. She advanced to the center of the room and looked around at all of them to be sure of their attention. She smiled at the boy, who was wolfing down the food on the platter. He was aware of nothing save the next bite. Amber sketched a small bow and began. She put Keffria in mind of an actor on the stage.

"I propose this. To recapture a liveship, let us use a liveship." Her gaze touched each of them in turn. "The Paragon, to be precise. We buy, lease or steal him, put a crew aboard with Brashen in command and go after the Vivacia." In the shocked silence that followed, she added, "If you suspect my motive in this, be assured that at least half of it is to save the Paragon from being turned into lumber. I think your good friend Davad Restart could be instrumental in getting the Ludlucks to part with the ship for a reasonable price. He has seemed to have their ear for the outrageous offers the New Traders have been making. Perhaps he might be willing to seize this opportunity to save face with the Old Traders. Perhaps that is even truer after tonight's events. I'm willing to put up everything I own as part payment for the ship. So. What say you?"

"No." Althea spoke flatly.

"Why not?" Malta demanded. She stepped into the room from the hallway. She wore a wrapper of thick blue wool over her white nightgown. Her cheeks were pink from sleep yet. She glanced about the room. "I had a nightmare. When I woke up, I heard your voices. I came down to see what was going on," she offered by way of explanation. "I heard you say we might be able to send a ship after Papa. Mama, Grandmother, why should Althea be able to forbid us to do this? It seems a sensible plan to me. Why not go rescue Papa ourselves?"

Althea began to tick the reasons off on her fingers. "Paragon is mad.

He has killed whole crews before; he might again. Paragon is a liveship, who should not be sailed by anyone except his family. He hasn't been sailed in years. He hasn't even been floated. I don't think we have the coin to both buy the Paragon and refit him as he would need. Moreover, if we do this, why should Brashen be captain? Why not me?"

Brashen gave a snort of laughter. His voice broke strangely. "And there you have her real objection!" he observed. He drew out a kerchief and wiped perspiration from his brow.

No one else laughed. There was a feverish note to his behavior that even Althea seemed to notice. She frowned at Amber, but the woman did not deign to notice it. Keffria decided that perhaps it was her turn to be blunt. "Forgive me if I sound skeptical. I do not see why either of you should wish to become involved in this. Why should a foreigner wish to risk her whole fortune on a mad liveship? What does it profit Brashen Trell to risk his life for a man who found his seamanship unsatisfactory? We could gamble what is left of the Vestrit finances, only to lose it all, if you never returned."

Brashen's eyes flashed. "I may be disinherited, but that does not mean I am totally without honor." He paused and shook his head. "Plain words, tonight, will serve us all best. Keffria Vestrit, you fear I'd take the Paragon and turn pirate. I could. I don't deny that. But I wouldn't. Whatever differences Althea and I may have, I think she'll still vouch for my integrity. I know your father would have."

"Speaking for myself," Amber added smoothly, "I've already told you that I wish to prevent the Paragon from being dismantled. We are friends. I am also a friend of your sister Althea. In addition, this is something that I feel I am called to do. I can explain it no better than that. I'm afraid you'll have to take my offer at face value. I can offer you no other assurances."

A silence fell in the room. Brashen slowly folded his arms on his chest. His brow was deeply lined. He fixed his gaze on Althea and stared at her, in a challenge that made no pretense of courtesy. Althea refused to meet it. She looked instead at her mother. Malta fidgeted, looking from one adult to another.

"I'll come back tomorrow evening," Brashen said suddenly. He waited until Althea glanced at him. "Think it over, Althea. I saw the mood of the Traders as they left tonight. I doubt that you'll get any other offers of aid, let alone a better one." He paused. In a softer voice he spoke only to her, "If you want to speak to me before then, leave a message at Amber's shop. She knows where to find me."

"Are you living aboard Paragon?" Althea's voice sounded hoarse.