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‘Captain Reft of the Sicerna. Etta made us fish him out.’

‘He was not blinded in the battle. He was intact when he fell in the water.’

‘Yes sir.’ Sorcor glanced at Etta and swallowed.

So. That was the basis of this deferential wariness the mate now had for his whore.

It was almost amusing. It was evidently one thing for Sorcor to dismember a man in battle, and quite another for the whore to torment one in captivity.

He had not known Sorcor was prey to such niceties.

‘Perhaps a blind man might not know how I was attired, but I would,’ Kennit pointed out. ‘See to your orders. Now.’

But even as he spoke, there was a tap at the door.

Sorcor admitted Opal who bore two steaming wooden buckets of water.

He set them down on the floor. He didn’t even dare look at Kennit, let alone speak to him.

‘Mr Sorcor, sir, them music people want to make music on our deck for the captain. They said I should uh, “beg your indulgence”. And,’ the boy’s brow furrowed with an effort to recall the foreign words, ‘um, they want to uh, “express extreme gratitudes”… something like that.’

Kennit felt a tiny twitch of movement against his wrist. He glanced down at the charm hidden in the cradle of his folded arms. It was making frantic faces of assent and enthusiasm.

The traitorous little bastard-thing actually seemed to think he would heed its advice. It was mouthing some words at him.

‘Sir?’ Sorcor asked deferentially.

Kennit feigned rubbing his head to bring the charm near his ear. ‘A king should be gracious to his grateful subjects. A gift disdained can harden any man’s heart.’

Kennit abruptly decided it was good advice, regardless of the source.

‘Tell them it would give me great pleasure,’ Kennit told Opal directly. ‘Harsh as my life has been, I am not a man who disdains the finer pleasures of the arts.’

‘Sar!’ the boy blasphemed in admiration. He nodded, his face flushing with pride in his captain. A serpent might bite his leg off, but he’d still have time for culture. ‘I’ll tell them, sir. Harsh life, finer pleasures,’ he reminded himself as he scurried from the room.

As soon as the boy was out of the room, Kennit turned to Sorcor. ‘Go to the prisoner. Give him enough water and food to revive him. Etta, my bath, please.’

After the mate had left, she eased him out of his nightrobe.

She washed him with a sponge, as Chalcedeans did.

He had always thought it a nasty way to bathe, a mere smearing of sweat and dirt instead of a clean washing away, but she managed it well enough that he actually felt clean.

As she attended to the more intimate parts of such a washing, he reflected that perhaps there was more than one way for a woman to be useful to a man.

The bathing and wrapping of his injury was still unpleasant enough that afterwards she had to once more wash sweat from his back, chest and brow.

Soft music began, a gentle composition of strings and chimes and women’s voices. It was actually pleasant.

Etta matter-of-factly ripped a side seam out of one pair of his trousers to allow her to dress him almost painlessly, and then stitched it up around him again.

She buttoned his shirt for him, and then groomed his hair and beard as skilfully as any valet.

She took more than half his weight to help him to his chair while she stripped the bed and made it up afresh.

It had never occurred to him that Etta might possess such talents.

Clearly he had not appreciated how useful she might be to him.

When he was properly washed and attired, she disappeared briefly, only to return with a tray of food.

He had not even been aware of his hunger until he smelled the hot soup and light bread.

When the sharpest pangs of his appetite were dulled, he set down his spoon to ask quietly, ‘And what inspired you to make free with my prisoner?’

She gave a tiny sigh. ‘I was so angry,’ she shook her head at herself.

‘So angry when they hurt you. When they made me hurt you. I vowed I’d get a liveship for you if it was the last thing I ever did.

Plainly that was what you wished to ask the prisoners about.

So. At the times when I was worn to death of sitting by your bedside but still could not sleep, I went to see them. ’

‘Them?’

‘There were three, at first.’ She shrugged casually. ‘I believe I have the information you want. I checked and rechecked it most carefully. Nonetheless, I took care to keep one alive, as I was sure you’d wish to confirm it for yourself.’

A woman of many talents. And intelligent, too. He’d probably have to kill her soon. ‘And you discovered?’

‘They had word of only two liveships. The first is a cog, the Ophelia. She left Jamaillia City before they did, but she still had Bingtown goods to trade, so she’d be making other stops as she came north.

’ Etta shrugged. ‘She could be behind them still, she could be ahead of them. There is no way to be sure. The only other liveship they’ve seen lately was in Jamaillia City.

She came into the harbour the day before they left.

She didn’t plan to be staying there long.

She was unloading cargo, and being refitted to haul a load of slaves north to Chalced. ’

‘That makes no sense, to use a liveship so,’ Kennit exclaimed in disgust. ‘They lied to you.’

Etta gave a tiny shrug. ‘That’s always possible, I suppose. But they lied very well, individually, at different times.’ She wadded his sweaty shirt up with the stained linen from his bed. ‘They convinced me.’

‘Easy enough to convince a woman. And that was the whole of what they told you?’

She gave him a look that dared to be cool. ‘Likely the rest was lies, too.’

‘I would hear it, anyway.’

She sighed. ‘They did not know much. Most of it was rumour. The two ships were in harbour together for less than a day. The Vivacia is owned by a Bingtown Trader family named Haven. The ship will be making for Chalced by the Inside Passage as swiftly as she can. They hoped to buy mostly artisans and skilled workers, but might take on some others just for ballast. A man named Torg was in charge of everything, but he didn’t seem to be the captain.

She’s newly quickened. This is her maiden voyage. ’

Kennit shook his head at her. ‘Haven isn’t a Trader name.’

She spread her hands at him. ‘You were right. They lied to me.’ She turned her face from him, and stared stonily at a bulkhead. ‘I’m sorry I bungled the questioning.’

She was becoming intractable. If he’d had two good legs under him, he’d have strode up to her and pushed her onto her back on the bed and reminded her what she was.

Instead, he’d have to flatter her. He tried to think of something nice to say to her, to make her pleasant again.

But the interminable throbbing of his missing leg had suddenly become a pounding pain.

He wanted only to lie down, to go back to sleep and avoid all of this. And he’d have to ask her to help him.

‘I’m helpless. I can’t even get back into my bed alone,’ he said bitterly.

In rare honesty he declared, ‘I hate for you to see me this way.’ Outside, the music changed.

One strong man’s voice took up a chant, at once forceful and tender.

He cocked his head to make out the oddly familiar words.

‘Ah,’ he said softly to himself. ‘I know it now. From Kytris, To His Mistress. A lovely piece.’ He tried again to find a compliment to give her.

He couldn’t think of any. ‘You could go out on deck and listen to the music, if you wished,’ he offered her.

‘It’s quite an old poem, you know.’ The edges of his vision wavered.

His eyes watered with his pain. ‘Have you heard it before?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

‘Oh, Kennit.’ She shook her head, suddenly and inexplicably contrite. Tears stood in her eyes as she came to him. ‘It sounds more sweet to me here than anywhere else. I’m sorry. I’m such a heartless wench sometimes. Look at you, white as a sheet. Let me help you lie down.’

And she did, as gently as she could manage. She sponged his face with cool water. ‘No,’ he protested feebly. ‘I’m cold. I’m too cold.’

She covered him gently, and then lay down along his good side. The warmth of her body was actually pleasant, but the lace on the front of her shirt scratched his face. ‘Take your clothes off,’ he directed her. ‘You’re warmest when you’re naked.’

She gave a short laugh, at once pleased and surprised. ‘Such a man,’ she rebuked him. But she rose to obey him.

There was a knock at the door. ‘What?’ Kennit demanded.

Sorcor’s voice sounded surprised. ‘I’ve brought you the prisoner, sir.’

It was all too much trouble. ‘Never mind,’ he said faintly. ‘Etta already questioned him. I’ve no need of him any more.’

Her clothing fell to the floor around her. She climbed into the bed carefully, easing her warmth up against him. He was suddenly so tired. Her skin was soft and warm, a balm.

‘Captain Kennit?’ Sorcor’s voice was insistent, worried.

‘Yes,’ he acknowledged.

Sorcor jerked the door open. Behind him two sailors held up what remained of the captain of the Sicerna.

They met their captain’s eyes, then both gaped at him in amazement.

Kennit turned his head to follow their gaze.

Beside him in the bed, Etta held the blanket firmly below her naked shoulders and just above the slight curve of her breasts.

The music from the deck came more loudly into the room.

He turned his head back to the prisoner.

Etta had more than blinded him. She had dismantled the man a bit at a time.

Disgusting. He didn’t want to look at that just now.

But he had to keep up appearances. He cleared his throat. Get it over with.

‘Prisoner. Did you tell my woman the truth?’

The wreckage between the two sailors lifted a ruined face towards his voice.

‘I swear I did. Over and over again. Why would I lie?’ The man began to weep noisily.

He snuffled oddly with his nostrils slit.

‘Please, good sir, don’t let her at me no more.

I told her the truth. I told her everything I knew. ’

It suddenly seemed like too much trouble.

The man had obviously lied to Etta and now he was lying to Kennit as well.

The prisoner was useless. The pain from his leg was banging against the inside of Kennit’s skull.

‘I’m… occupied.’ He did not want to admit how exhausted he was simply from taking a bath and getting dressed.

‘Take care of him, Sorcor. However you see fit.’ The meaning of his words was plain and the prisoner’s voice rose in a howl of denial.

‘Oh. And shut the door on your way out,’ Kennit further instructed him.

‘Sar,’ he heard a deckhand sigh as the door closed behind them and the wailing prisoner. ‘He’s going at her already. Guess nothing keeps Captain Kennit down.’

Kennit turned very slightly toward the warmth of Etta’s body. His eyes closed and he sank into a deep sleep.