Mad Ship

Ke

"Then they could starve to death instead of being carted off for slaves," the charm observed brightly.

"Raiding ships don't have that type of patience, usually. They are after a quick, easy capture of plunder and slaves. They are not likely to besiege a fortified town."

"But what is the purpose of these plans? Why do you take such an interest in creating a better town for folk you secretly despise?"

For a moment, the question stymied him. He looked down at his plans. The folk of Divvytown were truly not worthy to live in such an orderly place. It did not matter, he discovered. "It will be better," he said stubbornly. "It will be tidier."

"Control," the charm corrected him. "You will have left your mark on how they live their lives. I have decided that that is what you are all about, Ke

He had thrown down his pen in fury. To his disgust, it had left a snake's trail of blood across his plans. No, not blood, he told himself angrily. Ink, black ink, that was all it was. Ink could be blotted and bleached away. So could blood. Eventually.

He had gone to bed.

In the darkness, he had lain awake and waited for Etta to come in. But when she did come in, she came slinking in like a cat after a night's hunt. He knew where she had been. He listened to her disrobe in the darkness. She came softly to the side of the bed she slept in and tried to slip under the covers.

"So. How was the boy?" he asked her in a hearty voice.

She gasped in surprise. He saw her silhouette as she set her hand to her heart. "You startled me, Ke

"Obviously," he observed sarcastically. He was angry, he decided, not because she had slept with the boy. He had intended that all along, of course. It was that she thought she could deceive him about it. That meant she thought he was stupid. It was time to divest her of that notion.

"Are you in pain?" she asked him. Her concern sounded genuine.

"Why do you ask?" he asked in return.

"I thought that might be what kept you awake. I fear Wintrow was injured more seriously than we thought. He did not complain this afternoon, but tonight his arm was so swollen he scarcely could get his shirt off."

"So you helped him," Ke

"Yes. I made a poultice for him. It took the swelling down. Then I asked him some questions about a book I've been trying to read. It seemed to me a foolish book, for all it spoke about was how to decide what was real in one's life and what was the product of how one considered life. Philosophy, he named it. A waste of one's time, I told him. What is the good of pondering how one knows that a table is a table? He argued that it makes us think about how we think. I still think it is foolish, but he insists I should read it. I had not realized how long we had argued until I left his room."

"Argued?"

"Not angrily. Discussed, I should have said." She lifted the coverlet and slid into the bed with him. "I've washed," she added hastily as he shrugged away from her touch.

"In Wintrow's room?" he asked nastily.

"No. In the galley, where the water can be kept hot more easily." She settled her body against his and sighed. A moment later, she asked, almost sharply, "Ke

"Faithful!" The word shocked him.

She sat up abruptly in the bed, her action snatching the blankets off him. "Of course, faithful! Faithful always. What did you think?"

This could be a barrier to all his plans for her. He tugged at the blanket and she lay back down beside him. He formulated his words carefully. "I thought that you would be with me for a time. Until another attracted you." He shrugged lightly, more disturbed than he liked to admit. Why should it be so hard to admit this? She was a whore. Whores were not faithful.

"Until another attracted me? Such as Wintrow, you mean?" She laughed a rich throaty chuckle. "Wintrow?"

"He is closer to your age than I am. His body is sweet and young, scarcely scarred and possessed, I might add, of two legs. Why would not you find him more desirable?"

"You are jealous!" She said it as if he had just presented her with a diamond. "Oh, Ke

"He is whole," Ke

"He fought today, yes. But that scarcely makes him a man grown. He fought for the first time, with a blade we gave him and the skills I taught him. He killed, and that act consumes and torments him tonight. He spoke long about it, the wrong of taking from a man what Sa alone could give him." She lowered her voice. "He wept about it."

Ke

"No. It made me pity him, even as I wanted to shake him out of it. He is a youth torn between his natural gentleness of spirit and his need to follow you. He himself knows that. He spoke of it tonight. A long time ago, when we were first thrown into one another's company, I said things to him. Commonsense things, such as finding his life in what is instead of longing after what could be. He took those things to heart, so seriously, Ke

"Poor boy," Ke

Etta's hands came up to rest on his shoulders. She kneaded gently at his flesh. Her cool hands were pleasant. "I tried to comfort him. I tried to tell him it might be chance, not destiny, that has put him here. Do you know what he said?"

"That there is no chance, only destiny."

Her hands paused. "How did you know?"

"It is one of the cornerstones of Sa's teachings. That destiny is not reserved for a few chosen ones. Each man has a destiny. Recognizing it and fulfilling it are the purpose of a man's life."

"It seems a burdensome teaching to me."

Ke