Mad Ship

"Where did you get the picture of the liveship, anyway?" he asked.

The other two men turned to stare at him.

"Why do you care?" Captain Fi

Sincure Faldin broke in, obviously still hoping to dispose of the painting. "The painting comes from the ship herself. Rarely is a liveship ever captured: this authentic memento of such an event is among the rarest of the rare." As he re-pitched the desirability of the painting, he had snatched it up and was once more freeing it of its shroud.

Brashen shifted the small plug of cindin in his lip. "Don't believe it, then," he said gruffly. He met Fi

It worked. The trader's outrage faded to a look that was coldly smug. "I don't think so. Yet, I can understand why you might believe that was so. The taking of a liveship is not an ordinary feat. An ordinary man did not accomplish it. Captain Ke

Captain Fi

For the first time, Brashen suspected Sincure Faldin's affront was genuine. The portly merchant drew himself up and took in a breath. His gaudy shirt filled like a sail bellying with wind. "You speak of a man who is all but engaged to my daughter. I have the highest regard for Captain Ke

Fi

That's just about exactly what we'd expected we would get from a king. More dung raining down on us."

Sincure Faldin crossed his arms stubbornly. "No, no, my dear friend. Far be it from me to disagree with a customer, but you are not seeing the larger picture. Ke

A grudging agreement spread over Fi

Brashen dredged up a fragment of half-forgotten gossip. "Ke

"Not always!" Faldin objected. "Only on slaveships does he kill the whole crew. But there is a rumor he has spared some of the liveship's crew, although she was a slaver. The ship was joyous at being rescued. Now she dotes on Captain Ke

"A liveship was being used as a slaver, and when she was captured, she abandoned her loyalty to her family?" Brashen shook his head, amused and disdainful. He spoke to his captain. "I may not know this particular ship, but I know enough of liveships to tell you those two things ca

"But they are!" Faldin looked from one man to the other. "You do not have to believe me," he added in a superior voice. "You are only a day or so from Divvy town. Go there, if you doubt me. The liveship has been there the better part of a month, undergoing repairs. Speak to the slaves, now free folk, delivered by Ke

Brashen's heart was thundering in his chest. He felt as if he could not get quite enough air. It couldn't be true. Everything he knew about Vivacia and liveships told him it could not be true. Every scrap of evidence that Sincure Faldin offered him told him that it was. He managed a shrug and then coughed in an attempt to ease the tightness in his throat. "Up to the captain," he managed to say. He made a great show of shifting the cindin in his mouth. He spoke around the plug. "He makes those decisions. Me?" He shifted the truncheon in his hands. "I do other things." He gri

"If you came to Divvytown, I could show you a much fuller selection of merchandise." Sincure Faldin had suddenly reverted to being a merchant. His smile returned as he made his spiel. "My warehouse is there. Ke

Captain Fi

HAMMERS RANG ABOVE A CHORUS OF SAWS BURRING. THE SMELL OF HARDwood sawdust and fresh varnish filled the ship's companionways. The slaves that had crowded the decks and holds of the Vivacia had been replaced with gangs of carpenters and shipwrights. Wintrow stepped around a man applying varnish to a repaired doorframe, then dodged an apprentice bearing blocks of beeswax. With amazing swiftness, the Vivacia was being restored. The damage she had taken in the slave uprising had nearly been eradicated. Her holds were being cleaned, not just scrubbed but freshened by the careful burning of aromatic herbs. Soon only the stains of spilled blood would remain on her decks. Despite scrubbing, sanding or soaking, the wizardwood refused to forget.