"I'll bet you could, and I thank you for the offer. But when Paragon sails, I'm aboard him. After all, it's my family liveship that we're going after. Besides, I believe he'll do just fine." She glanced up at the sun. "I've got to hurry, Kendry. Take care of yourself."

"Well, little one, you take care of yourself. Mind what you said. Don't take too long about that note. I plan to be away from this dock before noon tomorrow."

She turned and waved gaily as she walked away from him. She told herself they meant well, all the people who wished her success and then warned her about Paragon. Even Trell. Sometimes she had to work to remember that.

The work had gone better than anyone had expected it to. Their small budget had been supplemented by Amber's mysterious influence. No less an artisan than Nole Plate had come down to volunteer his services in setting up the canvas for the new rigging. Althea couldn't imagine what Amber knew about Nole that had prompted the stingy old man to be so suddenly generous with his time. Some nasty little secret, she didn't doubt. Yesterday, a score casks of ship's biscuit had been donated by a well-wisher who insisted on remaining anonymous. Althea suspected Amber's hand there, as well.

But the most useful had been Amber's slave recruits who quietly arrived in the dark of night, after Brashen had sent home the regular workers, to slip aboard Paragon and toil until dawn almost grayed the skies. Then they would disperse as swiftly as they had arrived. They spoke little and worked hard. Every face was tattooed. She hated to think what risks they took to slip away from their masters each night. Althea suspected that when they sailed, most of the night crew would be belowdecks. They'd fill out the hired crew as fighters and seamen. How this had been arranged, she didn't want to know. Brashen had tried to take her into his confidence about it one afternoon. She had lifted her hands to her ears. "A secret is kept best by one," she reminded him.

He had looked pleased.

That thought brought a smile to her own face. She shook her head at herself. Why should she care if he were pleased with her or not? He'd made very little effort to please her with his latest decision. It should have been a monumental argument, but damn Brashen had insisted on remembering his privileges as captain.

At least he had summoned her into the captain's quarters before breaking the news to her. No one would see her angry face, but the missing window meant that any passer-by might hear raised voices. Brashen had sat nonchalantly at the newly refinished chart table. He was studying a handful of canvas scraps he'd taken from a bag.

"I did as was my right. I hired my own first mate." He had cocked his head at her maddeningly. "Wouldn't you have done the same in my position?"

"Yes," she had hissed. "But I'd have hired you, damn you. I thought that was the agreement."

"No," he replied thoughtfully. He set a scrap of canvas down on the table, pushed at it thoughtfully, then seemed to decide the sketch on it was upside down. "There was no agreement about that. Save that you would sail with me… with the Paragon when he sailed. We made no other agreement. As you might recall, I suggested some time ago that you not work alongside the men, in light of the type of men I'd have to hire."

She had made a small sound of disgust. Some of them barely merited the title of men. She took a breath to speak, but he held up a hand.

"Any other ship, any other crew, you would have been first for me. You know that. But this crew will need a whip hand. Sweet reason will not sway many of these men. The real threat of a physical thrashing may."

"I could hold my own," she lied gamely.

He shook his head. "You're not big enough. They wouldn't respect you until after they'd challenged you and had it proven to them. Even if you won, it would be more violence on the Paragon than I am willing to risk. If you lost-" He didn't go into the consequences of that. "So I've hired a man who is big enough and strong enough that most of the men won't want to challenge him. Those that do will certainly lose. I've hired Lavoy. He is a brute, and that's one of the kinder things we can say about him. He's also a damn fine sailor. If it weren't for his temperament, he'd have risen to command years ago. I told him that I was giving him a chance on the Paragon. If he proves out here, all of Bingtown will know that he could be mate anywhere. He's hungry for this chance, Althea. The opportunity is what hired him; the coin I could offer was no better than he might get as a bully mate on a larger vessel. He wants to prove himself, but I suspect he doesn't have it in him. That's where you come in. I'm captain. He's the first. You will be second. We'll pin his authority between ours. Not undercut it, but moderate. Do you take my drift?"

"I suppose," she replied grudgingly. She saw the logic of it, but it still rubbed her raw. "Second, then," she conceded.

"There's something else. Something you'll like just as little," he warned her.

"And that is?"

"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.