She flung him the offer carelessly. Kennit tried to accept it with equanimity, but he perceived instantly what it meant. Not just ships, but towns, even cities were his to plunder. He looked at his rainbow escort, and imagined them boiling in Bingtown Bay or cavorting before the docks of Jamaillia itself. They could weave a blockade that would stop all trade. With a flotilla of serpents at his command, he could control all traffic through the Inside Passage. She was handing him mastery of the entire coast.

He saw her watching him from the corner of her eye. She knew very well what she was offering him. He stepped closer, and spoke only for her ears. "And what does it cost me? Only 'what you ask for, when you ask for it'?"

Her red lips curved in a sweet smile. "Exactly."

The time for hesitation was past. "You have it," he assured her quietly.

"I know," she replied.

"WHAT AILS YOU?" ETTA DEMANDED CROSSLY.

Wintrow looked up at her in surprise. "Your pardon?"

"Pardon my ass!" She gestured impatiently at the game board on the low table between them. "It's your move. It has been your move for as long as it has taken me to finish this buttonhole. But when I look up, there you sit, staring into the lantern. So what ails you? You cannot keep your mind on anything of late."

That was because the whole of his mind was given over to one thing only. He could have said that, but chose to shrug. "I suppose I feel a bit useless of late."

She grinned wickedly. "Of late? You were always useless, priest-boy. Why does it suddenly bother you?"

Now there was a question. Why did it bother him? Since Kennit had taken over the ship, he had had no official status. He was not the ship's boy, he was not the captain's valet and no one had ever seriously respected his claim to own the ship. But he had had a function. Kennit had thrown him odd chores and honed his wits against him, but that had merely filled his time. Vivacia had filled his heart. A bit late to realize that, he thought sourly. A bit late to admit that his bond with the ship had defined his life and his days aboard her. She had needed him, and Kennit had used him as the bridge between them. Now neither of them required him anymore. At least, the creature that wore Vivacia's body no longer needed him. Indeed, she scarcely tolerated him. His head still throbbed from her latest rebuff.

He could dimly recall his healing. Days of convalescence had followed it. He had lain in his bunk and watched the play of light on the wall of his stateroom and thought of nothing. The rapid repair of his body had drained all his physical reserves. Etta had brought him food, drink and books he never opened. She had brought him a mirror, thinking to cheer him. He saw that the outside of his body had reconstructed itself at Kennit's command. The skin of his face purged itself of the tattoo's ink. Each day the sprawling mark his father had placed on him grew fainter, until Vivacia's image vanished from his face as if it had never been.

It was the ship's doing. He knew that. Kennit had only been her tool, so that the captain might reap the benefit of performing yet another miracle. The message to Wintrow was that she did not need his compliance to work her will upon him. Bolt had struck him with his healing. She had not restored his missing finger. He had stopped pondering whether that task was beyond both his body and her ministration, or if she had withheld it from him. She had expunged Vivacia's image from his face, and the meaning of that was obvious.

Etta slapped the table and he jumped.

"You're doing it again," she accused him. "And you haven't even answered my question."

"I don't know what to do with myself anymore," he confessed. "The ship no longer needs me. Kennit no longer needs me. The only use he ever had for me was to act as a go-between for them. Now they are together and I am-"

"Jealous," Etta filled in. "And fair green with it. I hope that I was subtler when I was in your place. For a long time, I stood where you stand now, wondering what my place was, wondering why or if Kennit needed me, hating the ship for fascinating him so." She gave him a twisted smile of sympathy. "You have my pity, but it won't do you any good."

"What will?" he demanded.

"Keeping busy. Getting over it. Learning something new." She tied a knot. "Find something else to occupy your mind."

"Such as?" he asked bitterly.

She bit off her thread and tugged to see if the bone button was secure. With her chin, she gestured at the neglected game board. "Amusing me."

Her smile made it a jest. The movement of her chin made the lamplight run over her sleek hair and glance off the strong bones of her cheeks. She glanced at him from under lowered lashes as she threaded her needle. Mirth glinted in her dark eyes. The corner of her mouth curved slightly. Yes, he could find something else to occupy his mind, something likely to lead to disaster. He forced his eyes back to the game board and made a move. "Learn something new. Such as?"

She snorted her contempt. Her hand darted out, and with a single move demolished his defenses. "Something useful. Something you will actually put your mind to, rather than making motions while you dream elsewhere."

He swept his playing pieces from the board. "What can I learn aboard this ship that I have not already learned?"

"Navigation," she suggested. "It confounds me, but you have the numbers learned already. You could master it." This time her eyes were serious. "But I think you should learn what you have put off far too long. Fill the gap that you wear like an open wound. Go where your heart has always led you. You have denied yourself long enough."

He sat very still. "And that is?" he prompted her quietly.

"Learn yourself. Your priesthood," she said.

His keen disappointment shocked him. He would not even consider what he had hoped she might suggest. He shook his head, and his voice was bitter as he said, "I have left that too far behind. Sa is strong in my life, but my devotion is not what it once was. A priest must be willing to live his life for others. At one time, I thought that would be my delight. Now…" he let his eyes meet hers honestly. "I have learned to want things for myself," he said quietly.

She laughed. "Ah, at teaching you that, Kennit would excel, I think. Yet I believe you misjudge yourself. Perhaps you have lost the intensity of your focus, Wintrow, but examine your heart. If you could have one thing, right now, what would you choose?"

He bit back the words that sprang to his lips. Etta had changed, and he had been part of her changing. The way she spoke, the way she thought, reflected the books they had shared. It was not that she had become wiser; wisdom had shone in her from the start. Now she had the words for her thoughts. She had been like a lantern flame burning behind a sooty glass. Now the glass was clear and her light shone forth. She pursed her lips in annoyance: he had taken too long to reply. He avoided her question. "Do you remember the night when you told me that I should discover where I was in my life and go on from there? Accept the shape of my life and do my best with it?"

She lifted one eyebrow as if to deny it. His heart sank. Could something so important to him have left no mark upon her? Then she shook her head ruefully. "You were so serious, I wanted to kick you. Such a lad. It does not seem possible you were so young such a short time ago."

"Such a short time ago?" He laughed. "It seems like years. I've been through so many changes since then." He met her eyes. "I taught you to read, and you said it changed your life. Do you know how much you have changed my life as well?"

"Well." She leaned back and considered. "If I hadn't taught you to use a knife, you'd be dead now. So I suppose I've changed the course of your life at least once."