Ship of Destiny

Ke

Vivacia turned away to stare out over the sea. "I suppose so."

"My lovely water-flower, why ca

"Blood is memory," Vivacia said sadly. "Wintrow and I share both blood and memories."

It was painful, for he ached in every limb, but Ke

"I did. And again, when you died. Yet-" She paused, then complained, "Even unconscious, you hid yourself from me. You shared what you chose to reveal, Ke

For a time, silence blew by with the wind. "I see," Ke

"Ke

"Oh. Poor pirate. Poor, pathetic, unloved Ke

The words were drawled sarcastically, in a small voice. It came from the carved charm he wore strapped to his wrist. He would not even have heard the tiny, breathless voice if he had not been climbing down the ladder, his hand still gripping the rung by his face. His foot reached the lower deck. He held to the ladder with one hand as he tugged his coat straight, and corrected the fall of lace from his cuffs. Anger burned in him. Even the wizardwood charm he had created to bring him luck had turned on him. His own face, carved in miniature, flung mockery at him. He thought of a threat for the beastly little wretch.

He lifted his hand to smooth the curl of his moustache. Carved face close to his mouth, he observed quietly, "Wizardwood burns."

"So does flesh," the tiny voice replied. "You and I are bound as tightly as Vivacia is bound to Wintrow. Do you want to test that link? You have already lost a leg. Would you like to try life without your eyes?"

The charm's words set a finger of ice to the pirate's spine. How much did it know?

"Ah, Ke

"Here's a secret I could share with Vivacia," the charm went on relentlessly. "I could tell her that you yourself have no idea what happened during that rescue. That once your elation wore off, you cowered in your bed and trembled like a child while Etta was nursing Wintrow." A pause. "Perhaps Etta would find that amusing."

An inadvertent glance at his wrist showed him the sardonic grin on the charm's face. Ke

What had happened as they were leaving Others' Island? The storm had raged about them, and Wintrow had been unconscious, perhaps dying, in the bottom of the ship's boat. Ke

Commanding a ship demanded that the captain always live a detached life. No one could fraternize on equal terms with the ship's captain. Ke

"WINTROW? HERE is WATER. DRINK."

Etta squeezed a small sponge above his lips. A pattering of drops fell. She watched anxiously as his blistered lips opened to the water. His thick tongue moved inside his mouth, and she saw him swallow. It was followed by a quick gasp for breath. "Is that better? Do you want more?"

She leaned closer and watched his face, willing a response from him. She would accept anything, the twitch of an eyelid, the flaring of a nostril. There was nothing. She dipped the sponge again. "Here comes more water," she assured him, and sent another brief trickle into his mouth. Again, he swallowed.