The Complete Liveship Traders Trilogy: Ship of Magic, The Mad Ship, Ship of Destiny. Robin Hobb
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if anyone but Brashen heard her. But as his grip on her tightened and he began to pull her up, Vivacia suddenly turned to her. She reached up, her strong hands catching hold of Althea’s own. Her green eyes met Althea’s.
‘I had the strangest dream,’ she said engagingly. Then she smiled at Althea, a grin that was at once impish and merry. ‘Thank you so for waking me.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Althea breathed. ‘Oh, you are more beautiful than I imagined you would be.’
‘Thank you,’ the ship replied with the serious artlessness of a child. She let go of Althea’s hands to brush flecks of paint from her hair and skin as if they were fallen leaves. Brashen drew Althea abruptly back up onto the deck and set her on her feet with a thump. He was very red in the face, and Althea was suddenly aware of Kyle speaking in a low, vicious voice.
‘… and you are off this deck for ever, Trell. Right now.’
‘That’s right. I am.’ Somehow the timbre of Brashen’s voice took Kyle’s dismissal of him and made it his own disdainful parting. ‘Fare well, Althea.’ Courtesy was back in his voice when he spoke to her. As if he were departing from some social occasion, he next turned and took formal leave of her mother. His calm seemed to rattle the woman, for though her lips moved, she spoke no farewell. But Brashen turned and walked away lightly across the deck, as if absolutely nothing had happened. Before Althea could recover from that, Kyle turned on her.
‘Are you out of your mind? What is wrong with you, letting him touch you like that?’
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. ‘Like what?’ she asked dazedly. She leaned on the railing to look down at Vivacia. The figurehead twisted about to smile up at her. It was a bemused smile, the smile of a person not quite awake on a lovely summer morning. Althea smiled sadly back at her.
‘You know very well what I speak of! His hands were all over you. Bad enough that you look like a dusty slattern, but then to let a deckhand manhandle you while you dangle all but upside-down…’
‘I had to put the peg in. It was the only way I could reach.’ She looked away from Kyle’s face, mottled red with his anger, to her mother and sister. ‘The ship is quickened,’ she announced softly but formally. ‘The liveship Vivacia is now aware.’
And my father is dead. She did not speak the words aloud, but the reality of them cut her again, deeper and sharper. It seemed to her that each time she thought she had grasped the fact of his death, a few moments later it struck her again even harder.
‘What are people going to think of her?’ Kyle was demanding of Keffria in an undertone. The two younger children stared at her openly, while the older boy, Wintrow, looked aside from them all as if even being near them made him acutely uncomfortable. Althea felt she could not grasp all that was happening around her. Too much had occurred, too fast. Kyle attempting to put her off the ship, her father’s death, the quickening of the ship, his dismissal of Brashen, and now his anger at her for simply doing a thing that had needed doing. It all seemed too much for her to deal with, but at the same time she felt a terrible void. She groped inside herself, trying to discover what she had forgotten or neglected.
‘Althea?’
It was Vivacia, calling up to her anxiously. She leaned over the railing to look down at her, almost sighing.
‘Yes?’
‘I know your name. Althea.’
‘Yes. Thank you, Vivacia.’ And in that moment, she knew what the void was. It was all she had expected to feel, the joy and wonder at the ship’s quickening. The moment, so long awaited, had come and gone. Vivacia was awakened. And save for the first flush of triumph, she felt nothing of what she had expected to feel. The price had been too high.
The instant her mind held the thought, she wished she could unthink it. It was the ultimate in betrayal, to stand on this deck, not so far from her father’s body, and think that the cost had been too high, that the liveship was not worth the death of her father, let alone the death of her grandfather and great-grandmother. And it was not a fair thought. She knew that. Ship or no, they all would have died. Vivacia was not the cause of their deaths, but rather the sum total of their legacies. In her, they lived on. Something inside her eased a bit. She leaned over the side, trying to think of something coherent and welcoming to say to this new being. ‘My father would have been very proud of you,’ she managed at last.
The simple words woke her grief again. She wanted to put her head down on her arms and sob, but would not allow herself to, lest she alarm the ship.
‘He would have been proud of you, also. He knew this would be difficult for you.’
The ship’s voice had changed. In moments, it had gone from high and girlish to the rich, throaty voice of a grown woman. When Althea looked down into her face, she saw more understanding than she could bear. This time she did not try to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks. ‘I just don’t understand it,’ she said brokenly to the ship. Then she swung her gaze back to her family, who like her lined the railing and looked down at Vivacia’s face.
‘I don’t understand it,’ she said more loudly, although her thickened voice was not more clear. ‘Why did he do this? Why, after all the years, did he give Vivacia to Keffria and leave me with nothing?’
She spoke her words to her mother’s stern anguish, but it was Kyle who dared to speak. ‘Maybe he wanted her to be in responsible hands. Maybe he wanted to entrust her to someone who had shown he could be reliable and steady and care for someone besides himself.’
‘I’m not talking to you!’ Althea shrieked at him. ‘Can’t you just shut up?’ She knew she sounded childish and hysterical and she hated it. But there had just been too much to take today. She had no control left. If he spoke to her again, she would fly at him and claw him to shreds.
‘Be quiet, Kyle,’ her mother bade him firmly. ‘Althea. Compose yourself. This is neither the time nor the place. We will discuss this later, at home, in private. In fact, I need to discuss it with you. I want you to understand your father’s intentions. But for now there is his body to dispose of, and the formal presentation of the ship. The Traders and other liveships must be notified of his death, and boats hired to bring them out to witness his burial at sea. And… Althea? Althea, come back here, right now!’
She had not realized she was striding away until she came to the gangplank and started down it. Somehow she had marched right past her father’s body and not even seen it. She did then what she would regret the rest of her life. She walked away from Vivacia. She did not accompany her on her maiden voyage to witness the sinking of her father’s body in the waters beyond the harbour. She did not think she could stand to watch his feet bound to the spare anchor and his body swathed in canvas before it was tilted over the side. Ever after, she would wish she had been there, to bid him farewell one final time.
But at that moment, she only knew she could not abide the sight of Kyle for one more moment, let alone her mother’s reasonable tones as she spoke horrible words. She did not look back to see the dismay on the faces of the crew nor how Keffria clung to Kyle’s arm to keep him from charging after her to drag her back. At that moment, she knew she could not bear to see Vivacia untied from the dock with Kyle in command of her. She hoped the ship would understand. No. She knew the ship would understand. She had always hated the thought of Kyle commanding the family ship. Now that Vivacia was quickened and aware, she hated it even more. It was worse than leaving a child in the control of a person you despised, but she also knew there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. At least not now.
The ship’s agent had a tiny office right on the docks. He had been somewhat taken aback to find Brashen leaning on his counter, his sea-bag slung over one shoulder.
‘Yes?’ he asked in his polished, businesslike way.
Brashen thought to himself that the man reminded him of a well-educated chipmunk. It was something about the way his beard whiskered his cheeks, and how he sat up so suddenly straight in his chair before he spoke. ‘I’ve