Ship of Magic (27 page)

“Althea? Althea!”

Her mother's voice rang loud behind her. She was walking down the hallway, and her home was suddenly an unfamiliar place. It had been years, she realized, since she had spent more than a month at one time here. How long had that tapestry hung there, when had those tiles cracked? She didn't know, she hadn't been here, no, she was not really changing anything, she hadn't lived here for years. This had not been her home for years. She was only recognizing the reality, not creating it. With no more than the clothes on her back, she stepped out the front door and into the wider world.

“IF SHE COMES HOME DRUNK AGAIN, I'M GOING TO LOCK HER IN
her room for a week. Make it plain to her that we won't tolerate her blackening the family name and her reputation in Bingtown.” Kyle was sitting next to Keffria on the bench now, his arm about her protectively.

“Kyle. Shut up.” Ronica Vestrit heard herself say the words crisply but quietly. It was all falling apart, her family, her home, her dreams of the future. Althea had meant what she had said; Ronica had heard Ephron's voice in her words. Her daughter was not going to turn up on the doorstep tonight, drunk or any other way. She had left. And all that idiot boy Keffria had married could do was play King of the Hill and make up ways to try out his new authority. She sighed heavily. Perhaps that was the only problem she could solve just now. And perhaps solving that would put her on a path to solving the others. “Kyle. I avoided saying this in front of Althea, as she needs no encouragement toward rebelling, but you've been acting like an ass all morning. As you have so tactfully pointed out, there is little I can do to intervene between you and your son. My daughter, Althea, is another matter. She is not under your authority, and your efforts to correct her I have found extremely offensive.”

She had expected him to look at least apologetic. Instead, his face hardened into affront, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she had completely misjudged this man's common sense when she put the family's fortunes into her elder daughter's hands. His first statement confirmed her worst fears. “I am the man of this family now. How can you say she is not under my authority?”

“She is my daughter, not yours. She is your wife's sister, not yours.”

“And she shares a name with you both, and her actions affect that name. If you and Keffria cannot reach her with reasoning, then I will have to restrain her with something stronger. We have no time to coax and cozy them along; Wintrow and Althea both must be made to accept their duties and perform them well.”

“When it comes to Althea, you are not the one to decide what her duties are. I am.” The iron resolve that had so often served her well at a bargaining table came to Ronica Vestrit's aid now.

“Perhaps you see it so. I do not. You have given control of her maintenance to me. In judging what maintenance she actually needs, I may be able to persuade her to curb her behavior to decent standards.”

His voice was so calm and rational, but the sense of his words still stung Ronica.

“When you criticize my daughter's behavior, you criticize the training she received from her parents. While you may not agree with how Ephron and I raised Althea, it is not your place to voice it. Nor did I give Keffria management over Althea's finances as a method to govern her, but solely as a way to determine what the budget could afford to allow her. It is not fitting that sister should govern sister. It is even less fitting that her sister's husband do so. And it was never my intent to force Althea from the
Vivacia
but only to encourage her to discover another life for herself, after she had seen the ship was in good hands.”

Ronica sank down on a bench beside the table, shaking her head at how her plans had been twisted awry. “Ephron was right about her. She needs a light hand. She will not be dragged or driven to do what is best for her. Last night, well, she was grieving. And whatever you may think of Brashen, I know Ephron thought highly of him. Perhaps he did no more than see her safely home, a fitting thing for a gentleman to do when confronted with a distressed lady.”

“And perhaps they had been drinking tea together all day as well,” Kyle noted with heavy sarcasm.

A mistake. A grievous mistake. Ronica looked past Kyle, stared at Keffria until her daughter became aware of her gaze and briefly met it.

“Keffria,” her mother said quietly. “You knew my intent with those documents. It would be dishonest of you to take advantage of your sister, to use your inheritance to coerce her to your will. Tell me you will not allow that to happen.”

“She has children to think of,” Kyle interjected.

“Keffria,” her mother repeated, and she could not quite keep a plea out of her voice.

“I—” Keffria's eyes darted from her mother's face to her husband's granite stare. Her breath came fast as a cornered mouse's. “I can't be in the middle like this. I can't!” she cried out in dismay. Her hands rose to tangle desperately over her breast.

“You needn't be,” Kyle assured her. “The papers are signed and witnessed. You know what is right is what is best for Althea. You know that neither of us have anything but her own good at heart. Believe in yourself, Keffria. Believe in me, your husband.”

Keffria met her mother's disbelieving stare one last time before she looked down at the table's polished surface. Her hands edged along it, smoothed the wood nervously. “I believe in you, Kyle,” she whispered. “I do. But I don't want to hurt Althea. I don't want to be cruel to her.”

“We won't be,” he assured her promptly. “As long as she is not cruel to us. That is fair.”

“That . . . seems fair,” she said hesitantly. She glanced at her mother seeking assurance, but Ronica's face was set. She had always thought of her elder daughter as the stronger of the two. After all, had not Keffria chosen a life that demanded strength, while Althea had gone off to dangle after her father and play? Keffria had taken a husband, had children, managed her own household and assisted in the running of the larger holdings. Or so it had seemed to Ronica when she had been making out the documents that determined inheritance. Now it seemed to her that Keffria had mostly managed the internal workings of the house, determining menus and shopping lists and managing social occasions. It had left Ronica free to do all the real tasks of running the holdings. Why had she not seen that Keffria was becoming little more than a place-holder, following her mother's directions, obeying her husband, but seldom standing up for herself? Ronica tried to recall the last time that Keffria had suggested a change or initiated an action. She could not think of one.

Why, oh why, did these insights have to come to her now? Sa help her, she had just put all the reins of their lives into Keffria's hands. By Bingtown customs and traditions, when a man died, his property passed to his offspring. Not his wife, his offspring. Oh, Ronica had the right to retain control of the properties she had brought to her marriage to Ephron, but precious little was left of them. With a lurch of her heart, she abruptly realized it was not just her younger daughter who was now at the mercy of what Kyle considered fitting for a woman. It was herself as well.

She glanced quickly at him, willing her face to stillness. She could only pray to Sa that he had not realized that yet. If he did, she might lose everything. Could not she, too, be brought to heel with a financial noose about her neck?

She took a deep breath and found control of her voice. “It does seem fair,” Ronica conceded. She must not suddenly be too meek. “We shall see if it turns out that way in reality.”

She made a show of sighing, and then rubbing at her eyes as if wearied. “There are so many things to think of now. So many. For now, I shall leave Althea to you. And, as Kyle says, the
Vivacia
must sail as soon as possible. That, I suppose, is a more important thing to turn our minds to. May I inquire as to what ports and cargoes you have chosen for her, and how soon you must leave?” She hoped she did not sound too eager for his departure. Her mind was already racing as to how she could work best in his absence. She could at least make sure that what remained of her own holdings would be passed to Althea upon her own death. Not that she would make mention of that; she had suddenly decided it would be very wise if she did not appear to oppose Kyle. And time alone with Keffria was time in which she could work on her elder daughter.

Kyle seemed content to be diverted with her question. “As you have said, we must sail soon, and not just for our finances. The sooner I get Wintrow away from the distractions of shore life, the faster he will accept his destiny. He has much to learn, and through no fault of his own, he comes to it when he is closer to man than boy. He cannot begin too soon to master it.”

He paused just long enough for them to nod. It irked Ronica to do it, as he seemed to imply they had somehow been at fault in the boy's upraising. When he was satisfied of their agreement, Kyle went on, “As to ports and cargoes, well, as we have all agreed, we must trade most swiftly in that which is most profitable.” Again he paused for their nods.

“There is but one answer, then,” he decided for them all. “I'll take the
Vivacia
south to Jamaillia, to take on the very best we can afford. Then north to Chalced, as swift as we may go.”

“The cargo?” Ronica asked faintly. Already her heart was sinking with certainty.

“Slaves, of course. Educated ones. Not pickpockets and thieves and murderers, but those that will be prized in Chalced as tutors and overseers and nannies. Artists and craftsmen. We need to buy up those whose debts have brought them to the block, rather than those condemned to slavery for crimes.” He paused, pondering, then shook his head. “They will not be as hardy, of course. So perhaps we should balance the load with a hold full of . . . whatever our purse will afford. War captives and bred slaves and what not. The second mate, Torg, has worked slaveships before and knows many of the auction folk. He should be able to guide us to some bargains.”

“Slavery is illegal in Bingtown,” Keffria pointed out uncertainly.

Kyle gave a short bark of laughter. “For now. Not for much longer, I suspect. And you need not fear, my dear. I have no intention of stopping in Bingtown with them. It will be a swift straight run down the Inside Passage to Jamaillia City, then north again past Bingtown on to Chalced. No one will bother us.”

“Pirates,” Keffria pointed out shyly.

“Have never bothered the
Vivacia.
How often have you heard your father brag of how fleet she is, and how nimbly she keeps a channel? Now that she is quickened, she will be even more so. Pirates know that pursuing a liveship is a waste of their time. They'll leave us alone. Try not to trouble yourself with worrying over things I have already pondered. I would not be taking this course if I deemed it risky.”

“The cargo itself may be risky to a liveship,” Ronica pointed out quietly.

“What do you fear, an uprising of some sort? No. They'll be under the hatches and well secured below for the full trip.” Kyle was starting to sound annoyed at their reservations about his plan.

“That could be even worse then.” Ronica tried to speak gently, as if she were offering an opinion rather than stating a danger he should plainly see for himself. “Liveships are sensitive creatures, Kyle, and Vivacia is only recently quickened. Just as you would not expose Malta to the . . . discomforts slaves must endure during transport, so, too, the
Vivacia
should be sheltered from them.”

Kyle scowled, then his expression softened. “Ronica, I am not unaware of the traditions surrounding liveships. And so far as our finances will allow us, I will respect them. Wintrow will be aboard, and he will be allowed some time each day simply to converse with the ship. He'll be able to reassure her that all is well and that none of this has anything to do with her own well-being. Nor do I intend any unnecessary cruelty. The slaves must be kept confined and controlled, but beyond that, they will experience no harshness. I think you worry needlessly, Ronica. Besides. Even if she is distressed by it, it's only for a time. What harm can come of that?”

“You seem to have considered it well,” Ronica tried to put reason in her voice, and replace the anger she felt with a tone of concern. “There are tales, of course, of what a distressed liveship may do. Some, they say, go unwillingly, spilling wind from their sails, running aground where it seems they should float freely, dragging their anchors . . . but all that, no doubt, is nothing that a lively and well-trained crew cannot deal with. In more grave cases, it is said that ill-used ships can go mad. The
Pariah
is but the most famous of them. There are rumors of others, of liveships that went out and never returned, because the ship turned on its owner and crew . . .”

“And every season there are ordinary ships that go out and do not come back. Storms and pirates are as like to be the cause of a liveship not returning as a ship going mad,” Kyle cut in impatiently.

“But with both you and Wintrow aboard, I could lose half my family at a single blow,” Keffria wailed suddenly. “Oh, Kyle, do you think this is wise? Papa made money with the
Vivacia,
and never took on illegal cargoes or dangerous ones.”

Kyle scowled even more darkly. “Keffria, my dear, your father did not make enough money. That is exactly what we are discussing here. How to avoid his mistakes and make this family financially sound and respectable once more. Another one of his quirky decisions immediately comes to mind, in this light.” He met Ronica's eyes suddenly and studied her face as he observed, “If you don't care for the slave trade, we could trade up the Rain Wild River. Certainly that's where the world's most desirable goods come from. Every other liveship trades up the Rain Wild River. Why shouldn't we?”

Ronica met his gaze calmly. “Because years ago Ephron decided that the Vestrit family would no longer do River trade. And we have not. Our trading contacts with the folk of the Wilds are gone now.”

“And Ephron is dead now, too. Whatever he feared, I am ready to face it. But give to me the charts of the Rain Wild River, and I'll make contacts of my own,” Kyle offered.