Mad Ship

"Oh. The galleys. There has been quite a stir about them lately, but I think Tenira is the first to refuse the fees. Fair or not, the Traders pay them. The alternative is no trade at all, as Tenira is finding out."

"Mother, that is ridiculous! This is our town. Why aren't we standing up to the Satrap and his lackeys? The Satrap no longer abides by his word to us; why should we continue to let him leech away our honest profits?"

"Althea… I have no energy left to consider such things. I don't doubt you are right, but what can I do about it? I have my family to preserve. Bingtown will have to look after itself."

"Mother, we ca

"There are some Traders who speak as you do," her mother said slowly. "And I reply to them as I do to you: my family first. Besides. What can I do?"

"Just say you will stand united with those Traders who refuse the tariffs. That is all I am asking."

"Then you must ask your sister. She has the vote now, not I. On your father's death, she inherited. She is the Bingtown Trader now, and the council vote is hers to wield."

"What do you think she will say?" Althea asked after a long silence. It had taken her a time to grasp the full significance of what her mother had said.

"I don't know. She does not go to many of the Trader meetings. She is, she says, too busy and she also says she does not want to vote on things that she has not had time to study."

"Have you spoken to her? Told her how crucial those votes can be?"

"It is only one vote," Ronica said almost stubbornly.

Althea thought she heard a trace of guilt in her mother's voice. She pressed her. "Let me go back to Trader Tenira and say this at least. That you will speak to Keffria, and counsel her both to attend the next Trader meeting, and to vote in Tenira's support. He intends to be there and to demand that the Council officially side with him."

"I suppose I can do that much. Althea, you need not carry this message back yourself. If he is openly defiant of the tariff minister, then he could precipitate some sort of… of action down there. Let me have Rache fetch a ru

"Mother. I wish to be in the middle of this. Also, I want them to know I stand firmly with them. I feel I must go."

"But not right now! Althea, you have only just come home. Surely you can stop to eat and bathe and change into proper clothes." Her mother looked aghast.

"That I ca

"You'll be out all night? Alone?"

"Would you rather I was with someone?" Althea asked mischievously. She disarmed her words with a quick grin. "Mother, I have been 'out all night' for almost a year now. No harm has come to me. At least, nothing permanent… but I promise I shall tell you all when I return."

"I see I ca

"Yes. I did. Moreover, I said I would tell you all when I return. The sooner I leave, the sooner I'm back." Althea turned toward the door. Then she halted. "Would you please tell my sister I'm back? And that I wish to speak to her of serious things?"

"I will. Do you mean that you will try to, well, not make amends, or apologize, but make a truce with Kyle and your sister?"

Althea closed her eyes tight and then opened them. She spoke quietly. "Mother, I intend to take my ship back. I will try to make you both see that I am ready to do so and that I not only have the most right to her, but that I can do the most good for the family with her. But I do not want to say any more just yet, to you or to Keffria. Please do not tell her that. Say, if you would, only that I wish to speak to her of serious things."

"Very serious things." Her mother shook her head to herself. The lines on her brow and around her mouth seemed to deepen. She drank more wine, without relish or pleasure. "Go carefully, Althea, and return swiftly. I do not know if your coming home brings us salvation or disaster. I only know I am glad to know you are alive."

Althea nodded abruptly and slipped quietly out of the room. She did not go back the way she had come, but went out the front door. She acknowledged a serving man who was sweeping scattered flower petals from the steps. The massed hyacinths by the steps gave off a rising tide of perfume. As she hurried down the drive toward Bingtown, she almost wished she were simply Athel, a ship's boy. It was a beautiful spring day, her first day on shore in her homeport in almost a year. She wished she could take some simple gladness in it.

As she hurried down the winding roads back to Bingtown proper, she began to notice that the Vestrit estate was not the only one that showed signs of disrepair. Several other great homes that she passed showed the neglect of a pinched purse. Trees had gone unpruned and winter-wind damage unrepaired. When she passed through the busier streets of Bingtown's market district, it seemed to her that she saw many unfamiliar folk. It was not just that she did not recognize their faces; she had been so often away from Bingtown in the last ten years that she no longer expected to know many friends and neighbors. These strangers spoke with the accents of Jamaillia and dressed as if they were from Chalced. The men all seemed to be young, in their twenties or early thirties. They wore wide-bladed swords in filigreed sheaths, and hung their pouches at their belts as if to brag of their wealth. The rich skirts of the women who trailed after them were slashed to reveal filmy underskirts. Their vividly colored cosmetics obscured rather than enhanced their faces. The men tended to speak more loudly than was necessary, as if to draw as much attention to themselves as possible. More often than not, the tone of their words was arrogant and self-important. Their women moved like nervous fillies, tossing their heads and gesturing broadly when they spoke. Their perfumes were strong, their bangled earrings large. They made the courtesans of Bingtown seem like drab pigeons in contrast to their peacock strutting.

There was a second class of unfamiliar folk on the street. They bore the tattoos of slavery beside their noses. Their furtive demeanor said they wished nothing so much as to be u