Amber lightly tapped her fake tattoo. "Were you to put on rags and one of these and stroll about Bingtown, you would hear the voices of those who oppose slavery most bitterly. In your efforts to waken Bingtown to its senses, do not ignore that pool of allies." She selected a small block plane from her tote of tools and began to adjust the blade on it. "If one were interested in, say, the inner workings of the household of the tariff minister, willing spies might easily be found among that pool. I believe the scribe who composes his correspondence to the Satrap is a slave, also."

A little shiver walked up Althea's spine. How did Amber come to know such things, and why had she troubled to find them out?

"You speak as if you were knowledgeable about such things," Captain Tenira pointed out gravely.

"Oh, I have known my share of intrigues and plotting. I find it all distasteful. And necessary. Just as pain is occasionally necessary." She set the block to Ophelia's palm. "Hold steady," she warned her in a low voice. "I'm going to take off the worst of the damage."

There was a tiny silence followed by a dreadful scraping noise. Charred wood powdered away. The smell reminded Althea of scorched hair. Ophelia made a tiny noise then lifted her eyes to stare out over the water. Her jaw was set.

Captain Tenira's face was almost expressionless as he watched Amber work. As if inquiring about the weather, he asked Althea, "Did you deliver my message to your mother?"

"I did." Althea pushed aside an emotion that was close to shame. "I'm sorry. I do not bring much that is of great comfort. My mother said she would speak to my sister Keffria. She is legally the Trader of the family now. Mother will urge her to attend the next Council meeting, and to vote in support of your actions."

"I see," Tenira replied. His voice was carefully empty.

"I wish my father were still alive," Althea added miserably.

"I could wish that you were Trader for the Vestrits. Truly, you should have inherited your family's ship."

Althea revealed her deepest wound. "I do not know if Keffria can stand beside you at all." A stunned silence followed her words. She kept her voice even as she added, "I do not know how she can side with you, and still support her husband. The increased tariffs are based on the Satrap protecting trade from pirates, but we all know it is the slave trade he cares most about. He never bothered about the pirates until they began attacking slavers. So, if the issue comes down to slavery, and she must take a stance… She… Kyle is trading in slaves. Using Vivacia as a slave ship. I do not think she would oppose her husband in this. Even if she does not agree with him, she has never had the will to set herself against him in anything."

Then, "No-o-o," Ophelia gasped. "Oh, how could they do such a thing! Vivacia is so young. How will she withstand all that? What was your mother thinking to allow this to happen? How could they have done that to their own family's ship?"

Grag and Captain Tenira were both silent. A stony look of condemnation settled over the captain's face while Grag looked stricken. The question hung in the air, an accusation.

"I don't know," Althea replied miserably. "I don't know."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Judgment

"WHERE COULD SHE BE? WHAT COULD SHE BE DOING?" KEFFRIA WORRIED.

"I don't know." Her mother replied testily.

Keffria looked down into the cup of tea she held. She forced her tongue to be still. She had nearly asked her mother if she was certain she had really seen Althea earlier. The last week had been so exhausting, she could have forgiven her mother for imagining the whole thing. That would be easier to forgive than her younger sister turning up and then abruptly vanishing again. It didn't help her temper that her mother seemed simply to accept Althea's outrageous behavior.

Her mother relented and added, "She told me she would be back before morning. The sun has scarcely gone down."

"Does it not seem odd to you that a young, unmarried woman of a good family should be out and about on her own at night, let alone on her first night home after she has been missing for nearly a year?"

"No doubt that is so. It seems very like Althea to me, however. I've come to accept that I can't change her."

"No such leeway is allowed to me!" Malta interjected pointedly. "I am scarcely allowed to walk around Bingtown by myself by day."

"That's true," Ronica Vestrit replied affably. Her needles ticked rhythmically against each other as she worked. She ignored Malta's noisy exhalation of frustration.

They had dined early and were now sitting together in the study. No one had said that they kept vigil for Althea's return. No one needed to. Her mother knit as if she were in some sort of race. Keffria had no such concentration. She stubbornly poked her needle through her embroidery and dragged another stitch into place. She would not let her sister upset her; she would not let the small peace she had found be stolen from her.

Malta did not even pretend to be constructively occupied. She had poked at their simple meal discontentedly and commented that she already missed Davad's servants. Now she strolled about the room, trailing her fingers on the desk-top, picking up the smaller mementos of her grandfather's sailing years, handling them and then putting them down. Her restlessness was an irritant to Keffria's raw nerves. Keffria was glad Selden was abed, exhausted after the long week of company. Malta had thrived on it. Ever since the last carriage had pulled away down the drive, the girl had had a desolate look to her. She reminded Keffria of some sea-creature stranded by a retreating tide.

"I'm bored," Malta announced, echoing her mother's thought. "I wish the Rain Wild Traders were still here. They don't sit about in the evening and do quiet work."

"When they are at home, I am sure they do," Keffria countered firmly. "No one has parties and games and music every night, Malta. You must not make that the basis for your relationship with Reyn."

"Well, if he marries me and we have a home of our own, it will not be dull every night, I can tell you that. We shall have friends over to visit, and bring in musicians. Or we will go out to visit other friends. Delo and I have decided that when we are married women and free to do as we please, we shall often have…"

"If you marry Reyn, you will live in the Rain Wilds, not in Bingtown," Ronica pointed out quietly. "You will have to make friends there, and learn to live as they do."

"Why do you have to be so dismal?" Malta demanded sharply. "No matter what I say, you always say something to make it not so. I think you just want me to be unhappy forever!"

"The fault is not in what I say, but in the silly fancies you spin to start…"

"Mother. Please. I shall go mad if you two begin to bicker and snip tonight."

A heavy silence followed. "I'm sorry. I do not wish Malta to be unhappy. I want her to wake up and see that she must choose to be happy within the framework of her life. These wild fancies of endless parties and entertainment are not…"

"No wonder Aunt Althea ran away!" Malta's cry cut off her grandmother's words. "All you can see ahead for anyone is boredom and toil. Well, my life is not going to be like that! Reyn has told me many exciting things about the Rain Wilds. When we go to visit his family, he is going to show me the ancient city of the Elder race, where flame jewels come from, and jidzin and other wonderful things. He has told me that there are places where you can go, and at a touch of your hand, you can light the chambers as they were of old. He says that sometimes he has even glimpsed the ghosts of the Elder folk coming and going on their errands. Not all can do that, only the very sensitive, but he says perhaps I have that skill. Very sensitive folk often do. Those most gifted can sometimes hear their music echoing still. He will dress me as befits a woman of the Khuprus family. I will not have to dust furniture or polish silver or cook food; there will be servants to do that. Reyn says… Mother, why are you smiling at me like that? Are you making fun of me?" Malta demanded indignantly.