Ship of Destiny

The first time Ke

Would his past never stay submerged?

For one wild instant, Ke

"Captain?" Sorcor prodded him gently.

The daydream popped like a bubble. It wasn't feasible. Far more pragmatic to go back to Divvytown, tidy away whoever suspected and go on as before. There was the ship himself, of course, but he had dealt with Paragon once. He'd just have to do it again. He pushed that thought aside. He could not face it yet.

"Bad news, Cap'n?" Sorcor dared to ask.

Ke

Ke

All were resplendent in the rich yields of their most recent piracies. Etta had coaxed even Wintrow into a wide-sleeved shirt of dark blue silk embroidered with ravens by Etta's own needle. Staunch Sorcor wore emeralds in his ears now, and a broad belt of leather worked with silver held two matching swords. The richness of the fabrics Etta wore was only heightened by her remarkable cut of them. Had cloth-of-gold ever been worn to climb a mast before? In the hold were other harvests from the sea: rare medicines and exotic perfume oils, gold and silver stamped with the likenesses of many different Satraps, jewels both raw and wrought into jewelry, fabulous pelts and glowing tapestries. The wealth in his hold now easily equaled last year's full gathering.

Hunting had been bountiful lately; piracy had never been so effortless. Flanked by his flotilla of serpents, he need do no more than sight an interesting sail. He and Bolt selected their targets and she sent the serpents forth. An hour or two of harassment by the serpents, and the prey surrendered. At first, he had then closed on the demoralized ships and demanded surrender of all their valuables. The crews had always been subservient and willing. Without even a sword drawn, Ke

The last two ships he had ordered the serpents to «fetch» for him. The Vivacia anchored until the serpents herded her victims to her. The last cap-tain had surrendered on his knees while Ke

Faldin's message had arrived on a swift little ship named Sprite. Although Jola had recognized the ship and she had been flying Ke

Ke

Sorcor's brow furrowed as he endeavored to think. "Did Faldin know the skipper? He should. He knows damn near everyone in Divvytown, and it takes an experienced man to bring a ship up the slough, even in daylight."

"He did," Ke

Wintrow's face betrayed him. His cheeks had flushed at the name of Trell. Now he stood, tongue-tied and sweating. Interesting. Impossible that the lad was in league with Sincure Faldin; he simply had not had enough free time in Divvytown. So this was something else. As if by accident, he let his eyes meet the boy's. He smiled mildly at him and waited.

Wintrow looked stricken. Twice his lips parted and closed again before he cleared his throat faintly. "Sir?" he managed in a whisper.

"Wintrow?" Ke

Wintrow crossed his arms on his chest. What secret, Ke

At these final words, the boy's fingers tightened on his arms. So there it was. Wintrow chose to be loyal to Ke