Ship of Destiny. Робин Хобб
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had heard Amber’s outraged account of it. Amber had been up in the rigging. By the time she had regained the deck, Lavoy had stalked away. Althea was glad there had not been an encounter between the first mate and the ship’s carpenter. Nevertheless, it had intensified the enmity Amber and Lavoy felt for one another. The clout Lavoy had given Clef had sent the lad flying, and all because the line he had been coiling hadn’t lain as flat as the mate thought it should. Privately, Althea thought Lavoy was a brute and a fool. Clef was a good-natured lad whose best efforts were bought with praise, not brutality.
They stood on the stern, looking out over the ship’s wake. In the distance, small islands were green hummocks. The water was calm but there was a light evening breeze and Paragon was making the most of it. Of late, the ship had seemed not only willing but almost eager to speed them on their way to the Pirate Isles. He had dropped all his talk of serpents and even his metaphysical musings on whether a person was what other people thought of him or what he thought of himself. Althea shook her head to herself as she watched some gulls diving on a shallow school of fish. She was glad he had stopped waxing philosophical. Amber had seemed to enjoy those long conversations, but Althea was unsettled by them. Now Amber complained that Paragon seemed withdrawn and abrupt, but to Althea he seemed healthier and more focused on the task at hand. It could not be good for a man or a liveship to ponder endlessly on the nature of himself. She glanced back at Clef. The ship’s boy was cautiously tonguing the split in his lip. His blue eyes were far away. She nudged him gently.
‘Best go get some sleep, boy. Your watch will roll around again soon enough.’
‘I spose,’ he agreed lackadaisically. He gazed at her absently for a moment; then seemed to focus on her. ‘I know I gotter take it from hem. I learnt that when I was a slave. Sometimes yer just got ter take it from someone and kip yer head down.’
Althea smiled mirthlessly. ‘Sometimes it seems to me there’s not much difference between being a sailor and being a slave.’
‘Mebbe,’ the boy agreed truculently. ‘Night, ma’am,’ he added before he turned and made his way forwards.
For a short time longer, she watched their wake widening behind them. They had left Bingtown far behind. She thought of her mother and sister snugly at home, and envied them. Then she reminded herself of how boring she had found shoreside life, and how the endless waiting had chafed on her. They were probably sitting in her father’s study right now, sipping tea and wondering how to bring Malta into Bingtown society on such a reduced budget. They’d have to scrimp and make do through the rest of the summer. To be fair, she decided they probably felt a great deal of anxiety for her, and for the fate of the family ship and Keffria’s husband and son. They would have to endure it. She doubted she would return, for good or ill, before spring.
For herself, she’d rather worry about the bigger problem; how was she to find her family liveship and return Vivacia safely to Bingtown? When Brashen had last seen the liveship, Vivacia had been in the hands of the pirate Kennit, anchored in a pirate stronghold. It was not much to go on. The Pirate Isles were not only uncharted and infested with pirates, they were also an uncertain place to visit, for storms and inland floods often changed the contours of the islands, river mouths and waterways. So she had heard. In her trading trips south with her father, he had always avoided the Pirate Isles, precisely because of the dangers that she now directly dared. What would her father think of that? She decided that he would approve of her trying to recover the family ship, but not on her choice of rescue vessel. He had always said that Paragon was not only mad, but also a bad-luck ship. When she was a girl, he had forbidden her to have anything to do with him.
She turned aside suddenly and walked forwards as if she could walk away from her uneasiness. It was a pleasant evening, she told herself, and the ship had been unusually stable and sailing well for the past two days. Lavoy, the first mate, had recently embarked on a storm of discipline and cleanliness, but that was not unusual. Brashen as captain had told him to break down the restraint between the sailors they had hired and those who had been smuggled aboard to escape from slavery. Any mate knew that the way to unite a crew was to keep them all on the ragged edge for a few days.
The crew as a whole could do with a bit more discipline and a lot more cleanliness. In addition to sharpening up their sailing skills, the crew had to learn to fight. And, she added morosely, not just to defend their ship, but to master the skills of attacking another vessel. Suddenly it all seemed too much. How could they hope to locate the Vivacia, let alone win her back with such a patchwork crew and an unpredictable vessel?
‘Good evening, Althea,’ Paragon greeted her. Without even thinking about it, she had come to the foredeck near the figurehead. Paragon turned his maimed face towards her as if he could see her.
‘Good evening to you, Paragon,’ she returned. She tried to put a pleasant note in her voice, but the ship knew her too well.
‘So. Which of our troubles torments you most this evening?’
Althea surrendered. ‘They all nip at my heels like a pack of yapping feists, ship. In truth, I don’t know which to worry about first.’
The figurehead gave a snort of disdain. ‘Then kick them away as if they were truly a pack of curs and fix your gaze instead on our destiny.’ He swivelled his bearded face away from her, to stare sightlessly towards the horizon. ‘Kennit,’ he said in a low and fateful voice. ‘We go to face down the pirate, and take back from him all that is rightfully ours. Let nothing stand between us and that end.’
Althea was stunned into silence. She had never heard the ship speak so. Initially, he had been reluctant even to venture out on the water again. He had spent so many years as a beached and blinded derelict that he had balked at the idea of sailing, let alone setting out on a rescue mission. Now he spoke as if he not only accepted the idea, but relished the chance for vengeance against the man who had seized Vivacia. He crossed his muscular arms on his broad chest. His hands were knotted into fists. Had he truly made her cause his own?
‘Don’t think of the obstacles that lie between now and the moment when we confront him.’ The ship spoke in a low, soft voice. ‘Long or short, if you worry about every step of a journey, you will divide it endlessly into pieces, any one of which may defeat you. Look only to the end.’
‘I think that we will only succeed if we prepare ourselves,’ Althea objected.
Paragon shook his head. ‘Teach yourself to believe you will succeed. If you say, when we find Kennit, we must be good fighters, then you have put it off until then. Be good fighters now. Be now what you must be to succeed at the end of your journey, and when the end comes, you will find it is just another beginning.’
Althea sighed. ‘Now you sound like Amber,’ she complained.
‘No.’ He contradicted her flatly. ‘Now I sound like myself. The self I put aside and hid, the self I intended to be again someday, when I was ready. I have stopped intending. I am, now.’
Wordlessly, Althea shook her head to herself. It had been easier to deal with Paragon when he was sulky. She loved him, but it was not like her bond with Vivacia. Being with Paragon was often like caring for a beloved but ill-mannered and difficult child. Sometimes it was simply too much trouble to deal with him. Even now, when he seemed to have allied himself with her, his intensity could be frightening. An uncomfortable silence fell.
She pushed such thoughts aside and tried to relax into the gentle movement of the ship and the soothing night sounds. The peace didn’t last long.
‘You can say you told me so if you wish.’ Amber’s voice behind her was weary and bitter.
Althea waited for the ship’s carpenter to join her at the railing before she hazarded her guess. ‘You spoke to the captain about Lavoy and Clef?’
‘I did.’ Amber drew a kerchief from her pocket and wiped her brow. ‘It did me no good. Brashen said only that Lavoy is the mate, Clef is the ship’s boy, and that he would not interfere. I don’t understand it.’
A slight smile curved Althea’s mouth. ‘Stop thinking of him as Brashen. If Brashen were on the street and saw