Ship of Destiny

He did not specifically command that they be locked in. Wintrow clutched that omission to himself. He would have a few moments with his sister.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — An Ultimatum

ALTHEA WAS NOT GRACIOUS ABOUT LEAVING THE FOREDECK. SHE HAD SEEN the oncoming sails, and her fears for Vivacia battled with her hopes of Ke

Wintrow made a hasty side trip to the galley, to cobble together a large tray of food and drink. By the time he reached the cabin, Althea and Malta were already facing one another across the room. The Satrap had thrown himself onto the bunk and was staring at the wall. Jek sat morosely in the corner. Malta was furious. "I don't understand why either of you would take his part. He pirated our liveship, killed her crew and holds my father captive."

"You are not listening," Althea said coldly. "I despise Ke

Wintrow clashed the tray down onto the small table. "Eat and drink something. All of you. Then talk, one at a time."

The Satrap rolled to look at the table. His eyes were red. Wintrow wondered if he had been weeping silently. His voice was choked with an emotion, possibly outrage. "Is this another of Ke

"Magnadon Satrap, it is no worse than sharing a table with pirates. Or eating alone in your room. Come. You must eat if you are to keep up your strength."

Wintrow and Althea exchanged incredulous looks at Malta's solicitous tone. Witnessing this, Wintrow felt suddenly uncomfortable. Were they lovers? His aunt's admission had made all sorts of unthinkable things possible. "I'm going up on deck, to see what is happening. I'll try to bring back word to you." He hastened from the room.

The Jamaillian ships drew ever closer, spreading out as they came. Their obvious strategy was to bar his way south and surround him. The ships on the wings of the formation had picked up their speed. If he was going to flee, he must turn tail soon, before the Jamaillians could close their net. This was no time for talk, but the liveship spoke anyway.

"Ke

"Of course they do." Ke

One of the smaller ships separated from the fleet and came on. No doubt, it would hail them soon. Ke

"What do you ask of us?" Vivacia asked wearily.

Ke

Vivacia's face had grown graver as he spoke. Desperation came into her eyes as she slowly shook her head. "Ke

"Tomorrow?" Ke

"I could ask the serpents to help you this last time. After the fleet concedes to you, you could take the Satrap onto the Marietta. Have the Motley carry the word to Divvytown, and have it dispersed from there that all your ships are to join you on your journey south. That would be as impressive as weary and dying serpents." She stopped the sarcasm that had crept into her voice. "Let Wintrow and Althea take me north, with my serpents. They could stay with me while I keep watch over the cocoons, freeing you to firm your kingship. I vow I would return to you by high summer, Ke

She spoke her treachery aloud to him. Here, at the pi

"I see," he managed to say. Behind him, the mood on the deck was jubilant. Unaware of her betrayal, his crew exchanged rough jests as they eagerly awaited the encounter. The ostentatious Captain Red had spread wide the news of Ke

"Help me as you can today," he suggested. He refused to think he begged. "And tomorrow will have to take care of itself."

A strange look passed over Vivacia's face, like anticipated pain. She closed her wide green eyes for an instant. When she opened them, her gaze was distant. "No, Ke

"Of course." He did not think about the lie. She knew him too well. If he paused to consider it, she would know the falsehood. "You have my word, Vivacia. If it is that important to you, it is important to me as well." Tomorrow, as he had told her, would have to take care of itself. He would deal with the consequences then. He watched the single ship separate itself from the Jamaillian fleet and come toward him. Soon it would be within hailing distance.

"CAN YOU SEE ANYTHING?" JEK ASKED.

Althea, her forehead pressed to the porthole, did not answer. This tiny, expensive window had been a major indulgence from her father. The rest of her room had changed, but she could not touch this without thinking of him. What would her father think of her now? She burned with shame. This was her family's ship, and here she was, hiding belowdecks while a pirate negotiated from her deck. "What is going on out there?" she wondered aloud. "What is he saying to them?"

The door opened and Wintrow entered, cheeks red from the wind. He began speaking immediately. "The Jamaillians challenged our passage. Ke