It was true. The ship was his for the taking, his luck had held. He had believed in it, he had persevered, and there it was, his beautiful liveship. As they gained her side, he thought he had never seen anything lovelier. From the castle of the Marietta, he could look down on her. There were bodies heaped upon a pile of fallen canvas, and her sails were hiked up like a bawd's skirts, but her silvery hull glistened and the clean lines of her were like music.

He swayed and Etta clutched at him. Gankis had the wheel now. The old sailor gave him an odd look, half of pity and half of fear.

“I don't know where your crutch is. Here. Let me get you to the railing.” She grunted with effort as she tugged him along. He came with her in lurching hops until he could lean on it with both hands. “My love,” she said very quietly. “I think you should go below and rest for a time. Let Sorcor secure the liveship for you.”

“No,” he said savagely. It was so damn hard to remain on his leg, and she had to waste his strength with stupid arguing. “No. She's mine and I'll be among the first on her decks. She's come to me by my luck.”

“Please,” Etta said, her voice breaking on the word. “My darling. My love. If you could see yourself just now…”

“Sar,” Sorcor had joined them and he swore the word out on an exhalation. “Oh, Kennit, oh, sir…”

“I'll be leading the boarding party,” he told Sorcor. His mate wouldn't argue with him. He'd make the damn woman stop arguing with him, too.

“Yes, sir,” Sorcor confirmed very quietly.

“You can't mean it!” Etta cried out to Sorcor. “Look at him. He's exhausted, I never should have let him stay on the deck, if I had known what it would cost”

“Let him go.” Sorcor spoke quietly. He had brought Kennit's crutch, but he set it carefully down on the deck. “I'll rig a bosun's chair for you, sir. And I'll see you safely to the deck of your liveship.”

“But…” Etta began, but Sorcor cut her off. “I promised him,” he said harshly. “Look at him, woman. Let me keep my promise to my captain.” In a lower voice he added, “I think there's little else we can do now.”

“But…” she said again. She looked at him and when he met her eyes, something in them seemed to go very still. She did not seem to breathe, only looked at him. Then she looked at Sorcor past him. “I'm going with him, then,” she announced quietly.

“We both are,” he confirmed it.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Restorations

The mate roused Althea from a deep sleep with a cautious tug at her sleeve. “Hey,” Grag Tenira said in an undertone. “Captain wants to see you now. He's on anchor watch, so meet him on deck. Roll out now.” Grag turned and left without waiting to see if she would obey.

A scant second later, Althea's bare feet hit the deck. Around her, the forecastle was dark and quiet. The rest of the crew had liberty tonight. Without exception, they'd gone ashore to carouse. Althea, more eager for solitude than beer, had pleaded lack of coin and stayed aboard to idle and sleep.

The Ophelia was in port at a small island city called Rinstin. It was one of the few completely legitimate settlements in the islands of the Inside Passage. Originally founded near a tin deposit and possessing a good supply of fresh water, the town of prosperous tin miners was beginning to be a trade center as well. The inhabitants could afford a few of the Rain Wild goods that Tenira had to offer. He'd turn a nice profit selling off the casks of salt meat he'd taken on in Jamaillia as well, and depart with tinwares to sell in Bingtown. The man was a savvy trader. In her brief time with him, Althea had already grown to admire him.

As she emerged onto the deck and looked about for Captain Tenira, the oddness of the situation suddenly struck her. The captain was on wheel watch in port? And he'd sent the mate to fetch her? A terrible suspicion welled up in her. Ophelia had given away her secret. When Althea spotted the captain smoking his pipe up by the figurehead, her suspicion became certainty. The young sailor perched on the railing nearby would be Grag, waiting to witness her exposure. Her heart sank into her belly.

Althea paused a moment in the shadows, to smooth her hair back into its queue and rub the sleep from her face. She straightened her worn clothing as best she could. As bad as it had been to be thrown off the Reaper, this was going to be worse. These men knew her family, and would take this tale home with them. So. Head up. No tears, no anger, she promised herself. Dignity and pride. She wished her stomach would settle. She wished she'd had more warning.

As she walked forward, Ophelia's rich voice carried on the night air, almost as if she intended Althea to hear her words. “And you, Tomie Tenira, are turning into a cranky old curmudgeon, with no sense of adventure left to you.”

“Ophelia,” her captain warned her.

“No sense of humor either,” Ophelia confided to Grag. The deck lantern left the mate's face in shadow, and he made no verbal response to her. Althea felt her mouth twist in an ironic smile. She wondered what Grag Tenira thought of his former dance partner now.

She smoothed the smile from her face. She kept her features dispassionate as she greeted Tenira with, “Reporting, sir.”

“Indeed,” Captain Tenira said heavily. He took his short pipe from his mouth. “You know what this is about, don't you?”

She tried not to wince. “I'm afraid so, sir.”

Tenira leaned back on the railing with a heavy sigh. “We've discussed this, Grag and I. And Ophelia has had her say. And more than her say, as is usual. I intend this for your best, young woman. Gather all your things. Grag will give you some coin and escort you ashore. There's a rooming house on Clamshell Street. It's clean. He'll see you safely there.”

“Sir,” Althea conceded hopelessly. At least he wasn't shouting angrily at her. By keeping his dignity, he'd allowed her to keep hers. For that, she was grateful. But Ophelia's betrayal of her trust still stung. She looked past him to where Ophelia regarded her sheepishly over one round shoulder. “I asked you not to give me away,” she rebuked her softly. She studied the figurehead's face. “I can't believe you did this to me.”

“Oh, not fair, my dear! Not fair at all!” Ophelia protested earnestly. “I warned you that you couldn't expect me to keep such a secret from my captain. And I also told you I'd try to find a way for you to stay aboard, if you wished to, under your own name. Now how could I do that without telling him what your real name was?” Ophelia turned her attention to her captain. “Tomie, you're enjoying this. Shame on you! Tell her the rest, right now. The poor girl thinks you mean to maroon her here.”

“This is Ophelia's idea, not mine,” the captain observed grudgingly. “She's taken quite a shine to you.” He took a draw from his pipe while Althea waited in suspense. “Grag'll give you enough coin to fix yourself up. A bath, the proper clothes and so on. Tomorrow afternoon, you'll come back aboard as Althea Vestrit. And we'll take you home.”

“And,” Ophelia cut in excitedly. “And, oh, this is the best part, my dear, and you can't imagine how hard it was for me to persuade Tomie. Grag was easy, of course, Grag's always easy, aren't you, my lamb?” She didn't wait for the mate's murmured assent. “You'll be acting as mate for the rest of the voyage home,” she announced to Althea gleefully. “Because a day or so out of Rinstin, poor Grag's going to have such a horrible toothache that he'll take to his bunk. And Tomie ‘s going to ask you to fill in, because he knows you sailed with your father.”

Grag leaned forward to see her expression at this. At the shock on her face, he burst out laughing. His blue eyes darted to Ophelia, sharing his delight with her.

“Do you mean it?” Althea asked incredulously. “Oh, how can I thank you?”