Amber and Althea both held teacups that steamed. A fat ceramic pot sat between them with an extra cup beside it. Brashen poured a cup for himself. He considered sitting down between them, then decided to stand. Amber was staring out to sea. Althea was running her fingertip around the rim of her cup and watching the waves. Their conversation had died at his approach. Amber sensed the awkwardness. She glanced up at him. "Early start again tomorrow?"

"No," Brashen said succinctly. He took a sip of his tea and added, "I don't think so. I suspect I'll spend the morning hunting up new workers."

"Not again," Althea groaned. "What did I miss?"

Brashen took a breath as if to speak, then clamped his jaws and shook his head.

Althea rubbed her temples. "At least, he was talking to you again?" She offered the words to Amber hopefully.

"Not to us," Amber said dejectedly. "He had lots of things to say to the work crew, though. Mostly nasty whispered stuff, before he got onto how their children would be born without legs and blind, because they'd worked near a cursed ship." In bitter admiration, she added, "He was very descriptive."

"Well. That's creative. At least he didn't throw any more timbers after the first one."

"Maybe he's saving some for tomorrow," Brashen pointed out.

They shared a discouraged silence. Then Amber asked sadly, "Well. Have we given up, then?"

"Not quite yet. Let me finish this cup of tea while I ponder how hopeless it all is," Brashen replied. He frowned as he turned to Althea. "Where were you this morning, anyway?"

She didn't look at him as she answered. Her voice was cool. "Not that you have a right to ask, but I went to see Grag."

"I thought Tenira was still in hiding. Price on his head, and all that." Brashen's voice was very detached. He sipped his tea and looked at the water.

"He is. He found a way to send me word. I went to see him."

Brashen shrugged one shoulder. "Well, at least that solves one problem. When we run out of money, you can always turn him in to the Satrap's ministers. We can use the reward to hire still another work crew." He showed his teeth in a grin.

Althea ignored the remark to tell Amber, "Grag said he wished he could offer help to me, but his own situation makes everything difficult. His family got a fraction of what the Ophelia's cargo was worth. And they have resolved not to trade in Bingtown or Jamaillia until the Satrap rescinds the unfair tariffs."

"Didn't the Ophelia sail a few days ago?" Brashen asked determinedly.

Althea nodded. "She did. Tomie thought it best to take her out of Bingtown Harbor before any more galleys arrived. The Satrap's tariff ministries have been making threats to seize the ship. They are now claiming that the Satrap can regulate where liveships trade, and that Rain Wild goods can be sold only in Bingtown or Jamaillia City. I doubt that they could enforce that, but Tomie saw no sense in waiting for trouble. The Tenira family will continue to battle them, but he won't put Ophelia in the middle of it."

"If it was me," Brashen said speculatively, "I'd take her up the Rain Wild River. Nothing except another liveship could follow her up there."

He cocked a head. "That's the plan, isn't it? Grag will be smuggled up-river on another liveship to rejoin them there. Am I right?"

Althea gave him a sidelong glance and a shrug.

Brashen looked offended. "You don't trust me?"

"I promised not to tell anyone." She looked at the water.

"You think I'd pass the word about?" He was outraged. What kind of a man did she think he was? Did she really think he would let his rivalry with Grag go that far?

"Brashen." She sounded at the end of her patience. "It is not that I don't trust you. I gave him my word to keep silent. I intend to keep it."

"I see." At least, she was finally speaking directly to him. A question burned in him. He cursed himself, but asked it anyway. "Did he ask you to go with him?"

Althea hesitated. "He knows I have to stay here. He even understands that I have to sail when the Paragon goes." Althea scratched her chin, then scraped at the dirt on her cheek. Irritably, she added, "I wish I could make Keffria understand that. She's still squawking to Mother that it isn't proper. She doesn't approve of me being down here to help. She hates the way I dress when I come down here to work. I don't know what she would approve. Perhaps I should sit at home and wring my hands in distress."

Brashen knew she was trying to change the subject. He couldn't leave it alone. "Sure, Grag knows that you have to go after Vivacia. But he still asked you to come with him, didn't he? He still wanted you to go. You probably should. Cut your losses. Wager on the winner. None of the Traders really expects we'll succeed. That's why none of them have offered help. They think it would be a waste of time and money. I'll bet Grag had all kinds of sound reasons why you should abandon us, including that we'll never get this derelict off the sand." Brashen thudded his heels on the ship's hull. He felt a sudden, irrational rush of anger.

"Don't call him a derelict!" Amber snapped.

"And stop whining," Althea added nastily.

Brashen stared at her, outraged. Then he raised his voice in a shout. "Derelict! Piece of beach junk! You hear me, Paragon? I'm talking about you."

His words echoed from the sea cliffs behind them. Paragon made no reply. Amber glared at him, breathing out sharply through her nose. "That isn't going to help anything," she scolded.

"Instead of starting quarrels with everyone, why don't you go panhandle some cindin?" Althea asked him sarcastically. "We all know that is your real problem."

"Yeah?" Brashen set his cup down. "And I know what your real problem is."

Althea's voice went soft and deadly. "You do, do you? Well, why don't you tell us all plainly?"

He leaned close to her. "Your real problem is that last winter you finally figured out who you are, and you've spent every day since then trying to deny it. It scared you so you ran home to try and forget it."

His words were so different from what she had expected that Althea was struck dumb. He almost grinned at her astonishment. She gawked up at him where he stood over her on the slanting deck. "And to make it perfectly clear," he added in a softer voice, "I'm not talking about anything that happened between you and me. I'm talking about what happened between you and yourself."

"Brashen Trell, I have no idea what you're talking about!" Althea declared quickly.

"You don't?" He did grin then. "Well, Amber does, sure as Sa has balls and tits. I've known that she's known all about that since I got back to Bingtown. It was on her face the first time she looked at me. Funny that you'll talk to her about it, but not me. But I told you. That isn't the issue. You went out and you found out that you weren't a Trader's daughter. Oh, you're Ephron Vestrit's daughter, all right, and no mistake about that. But you aren't bound to this damn town and its traditions any more than he was. He didn't like the cost of trading up the Rain Wild River, so, by Sa, the man stopped trading there. He went out and found his own contacts and his own trade goods. You're like him, right down to the bone. If they wanted to weed that out of you, they're too late. You can't change that about yourself. You should stop pretending.

"You can't really settle down and be Grag Tenira's female half. It'll break both your hearts if you try. You're never going to stay home and make babies for him while he goes out to sea. You talk big about family and duty and tradition, but the reason you're going after the Vivacia is that you want your own damn ship. And you intend to get out there and take it. If you can just find the guts to leave Bingtown again, that is."

The words had spilled out of him. He found himself out of breath, and almost panting. Althea stared up at him. He wanted so badly to reach down and pull her up into his arms. He'd kiss her. She'd probably break his jaw.