When the blessings were finally finished, they turned to face one another. The kiss. It would be their first kiss and suddenly she appreciated that he had reserved it for this moment. She took as deep a breath as her gown would allow her and turned her face up to him. He looked down on her. His green eyes were unreadable. As he bent to her, she closed her eyes and let her lips relax. Let him take charge of this moment. She felt his breath as his mouth hovered over hers. Then he kissed her, the lightest brushing touch of his mouth against hers. As if the wing of a humming bird had just brushed her lips.

A small shiver passed over her, and she caught her breath as he stepped back from her. Her heart was thundering. 'He teases me,' she thought, and could not keep a smile from her face. He would not meet her eyes, but a sly smile stole across his face as well. Cruel man. He would make her admit to herself that she was as eager as he was. 'Let the night come,' she thought to herself and stole a sideways glance at her husband's handsome face.

'So. Tell me about her,' Leftrin ventured when the silence had grown long.

Swarge sighed and then looked up at him and smiled. It transformed his face. Years dropped away, and the bluish glints behind his blue eyes seemed almost kindly. 'Her name is Bellin. She's, well, she likes me. She can play the pipes. We met a couple of years ago, in a tavern in Trehaug. You know the one. Jona's place.'

'I know it. River folk trade there.' He cocked his head and looked at his tillerman, reluctant to ask the question that came to his mind. Most of the women he'd met at Jona's were whores. Some of them were nice enough, but most were good at their trade and unlikely to give it up for one man. He wondered if Swarge were dim-witted in that area and was being deceived. He almost asked if he'd been giving her money to save up for a house for them. Leftrin had seen that trick played on a gullible sailor more than once.

But before he could ask Swarge anything, the tillerman must have seen his captain's doubts in his eyes. 'Bellin's river folk. In there with the rest of her crew for a drink and a hot meal. She works on that little barge, the Sacha, that goes back and forth between Trehaug and Cassarick.'

'What does she do?'

'Poleman. That's part of what makes it hard for us. When I'm in port, she's out, when she's in port, I'm out.'

'Marrying her won't change that,' Leftrin pointed out.

Swarge looked down at the table. 'Captain on the Sacha offered me a job last time Bellin and I were in port at the same time. Said if I wanted to jump boats, he'd take me on as tillerman for the Sacha.'

After a moment, Leftrin unknotted his fists and spoke in a controlled voice. 'And you said yes? Without even telling me you might go?'

Swarge drummed his fingers on the edge of the table and then, without invitation, poured more rum for both of them. 'I didn't say anything,' he said after he'd tossed off his shot. 'Like you said, Cap, I been with Tarman over ten years. And Tarman's a liveship. I know I'm not family, but we got a bond, even so. I like the feel of him on the water. Like how I get that little shiver of knowing right before I see something to watch out for. Sacba\ a good little barge, but she's just a piece of wood to push around on the river. Would be hard to leave Tarman for that. But . . .'

'But for a woman, you would,' Leftrin said heavily.

'We'd like to marry. Have children, if we can. You just said it yourself, Cap. Ten years is half of forever for a Rain Wilds man. I'm not getting any younger and neither is Bellin. If we're going to do this, we've got to do it soon.'

Leftrin was quiet, weighing his choices. He couldn't let Swarge go. Not now. Things were going to be strange enough for a time on the liveship without making Tarman get used to a new tillerman as well. Did he need another crewman? He had Hennesey to run the deck and man a pole, skinny little Skelly, Big Eider and himself. Swarge on the tiller, he hoped. It wouldn't be bad to have another crew member. It might even make Tarman's momentum more believable. Yes, he decided. That charade might work. He stifled the grin that passed over his face. He totted up his finances and made his decision.

'She any good?' he demanded of Swarge, and then, at the offended look on the man's face, he clarified, 'As a poleman. Does she do her share? Could she handle duties on a barge the size of Tarman if things got tricky?'

Swarge just stared at him for a moment. Hope flickered in his eyes. He looked hastily down at the table, as if to conceal it from his captain. 'She's good. She's not some flimsy little girl. She's a woman with meat and muscle on her frame. She knows the river and she knows her business.' He scratched his head. 'Tarman's a much bigger vessel and a liveship to boot.'

'So you think she wouldn't be up to it?' Leftrin baited him.

'Of course she would.' Swarge hesitated, then demanded almost angrily, 'Are you saying she could join Tarman's crew? That we could be together on Tarman?'

'Would you rather be with her on Sacha?'

'No. Of course not.'   ,

'Then ask her. I won't ask you to sign your papers until she agrees to sign as well. But the deal is the same. It's for a lifetime.'

'You ain't even met her yet.'

'I know you, Swarge. You think you can stand her for a lifetime, then I'm pretty sure I can, too. So ask her.'

Swarge reached for the pen and the paper. 'Don't need to,' he said as he dipped the quill. 'She's always wanted to serve on a liveship. What sailor doesn't?' And with a smooth and legible hand, he signed his life over to Tarman.

More than one guest commented on the pink of her cheeks at their wedding ceremony at the Traders' Hall. And when the guests had followed them to their new home to share a wedding dinner, she had scarcely been able to taste the honey-cake or follow the conversations around her. The dinner was endless, and she could hardly remember a word said to her long enough to make intelligent conversation. She watched only Hest at the other end of the long table. His long-fingered hands cupping a wineglass, his tongue moving to moisten his lip, the soft fall of his hair on his brow. Would the dinner never end, would all these people never leave?

As tradition dictated, when Hest and his men retired for brandy in his new study, she bid her guests a formal farewell and then retreated to her new marital chambers. Sophie and her mother accompanied her, to help her remove her heavy gown and underskirts. It had been a few years since she and Sophie had been truly close, but as Sedric was serving as Hest's man, it had seemed appropriate that his sister serve as her attendant. Her mother had left her with many fond wishes, to assist Alise's father in bidding farewell to the departing guests. Sophie lingered, helping her tie the dozens of tiny bows that secured the lacy wrapper over her gauzy, beribboned nightdress. Then, as Alise sat, she had helped her take down her red hair and brush it smooth and loose upon her shoulders.

'Do I look silly?' she'd demanded of her old friend. 'I'm such a plain girl. Is this nightgown too fancy for me?'

'You look like a bride,' Sophie had replied. There was a trace of sadness in her eyes. Alise understood. Today, with Alise's wedding, they left the last remnant of their girlhood behind. They were both wedded women now. Despite her anticipation, Alise felt a brief moment of regret for the life she left behind. Never a girl again, she thought to herself. Never another night in her father's house as his daughter. And that, she abruptly recognized as relief.

'Are you worried at all?' Sophie asked her as their eyes met in the elaborately framed vanity mirror.

Til be fine,' she replied and tried to control her smile.

'Will it be strange, the three of you sharing a home?'