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She turned her feet towards the run-down inn where she had been staying.

She’d board Ophelia tonight and sail tomorrow.

There wasn’t time to find Brashen and bid him farewell.

She had no idea where he was. Why, for all she knew, he might have shipped out again by now.

Besides, what was the point? She’d go her way, he’d go his.

That was simply how it was. She had no real connection to the man at all.

None at all. She didn’t even know why she was thinking about him.

Certainly there was nothing left to say to him.

And seeing him again would only bring up difficult words and topics.

The office of the ship’s agent was small and stuffy. The fireplace held a roaring blaze for such a tiny room. It seemed smoky after the fresh windy day outside. Brashen tugged at his collar, then forced his hands to lie still in his lap.

‘I hire for the ship Springeve. That is how much trust the captain places in me. And it is a trust I take gravely. If I send him out with a sloppy man, or a drunk, I can cost the ship time, money and lives. So I am careful whom I hire.’

The agent, a small, balding man, paused to suck at a pipe. He seemed to be waiting for a reply, so Brashen tried to think of one. ‘It’s a heavy responsibility,’ he hazarded.

The agent exhaled a yellowish smoke. The acridity of it bit at Brashen’s eyes and throat but he tried not to show it.

All he wanted was the mate’s position they had posted on the bill outside the door.

The Springeve was a small, shallow-draught trading-vessel that worked her way up and down the coast between Candletown and Bingtown.

The cargo she picked up or let off in each town determined her next port of call.

That was how the agent delicately explained it.

To Brashen, it sounded suspiciously as if the Springeve worked with the pirates, buying and selling stolen cargoes from other ships.

Brashen wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved in that sort of work.

Actually, he was damn sure that he didn’t want to do any work at all, of any kind.

But he was out of money and almost out of cindin.

So he had to work, and this berth was as good as any.

The man was talking again, and Brashen tried to look as if he’d been paying attention.

‘… so we lost him. It was a shame, he’d been with us for years.

But, as I’m sure you know…’ he took another long draw from his pipe and breathed it out through his nose.

‘Time and tide wait for no man. Nor does perishable cargo. The Springeve has to sail and we need a new mate. You seem familiar with the waters we’ve discussed.

We may not be able to pay you what you think you’re worth. ’

‘What could you pay me?’ Brashen asked bluntly. Then he smiled, to try and soften the roughness of the words. His headache had abruptly returned, and if the man breathed smoke in his face one more time, he thought he’d puke.

‘Well.’ The small man bridled a bit at his question. ‘That depends, of course. You’ve your ticket from the Reaper, but nothing to show for the other experience you claim. I’ll need to think about this.’

He meant he hoped someone with more tickets would apply.

‘I see. When will you know if you want me?’ Another question phrased too baldly.

Once he had said it, he could hear it, but he seemed unable to govern his words before they came out of his mouth.

He smiled at the man again, and hoped his smile was not as sickly as he felt.

‘Possibly by early morning.’

When the man took a draw from his pipe, Brashen bent over and pretended to adjust the cuff of his trousers.

He waited until the man breathed out before he straightened up again.

There was still a cloud of yellowish fumes waiting for him.

He coughed, then cleared his throat. ‘I’ll check back with you then, shall I?

’ A knot of anxiety was forming in Brashen’s gut.

He’d have to face another day without food, another night sleeping outside.

With every day that passed like that, he’d have less of a chance at a decent berth.

A hungry, dirty, unshaven man was not what an agent sought for in a ship’s mate.

‘Yes. Do that,’ the agent said absently. He was already shuffling papers on his desk, Brashen dismissed from his mind. ‘And come ready to sail, for if we want you, we shall want you right away. Good day.’

Brashen stood slowly. ‘That is swash. You won’t say if you want me or how much you’ll pay me, but I should be on my toes to leave if you wink at me.

I don’t think so.’ You’re being stupid, some rational part of himself was yelling.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! But the words were out and he knew he’d only look ignorant as well as rude if he tried to recall them now.

He tried to put an arch civility into his tone as he added, ‘Good day to you, sir. I regret we couldn’t do business together. ’

The ship’s agent looked both insulted and worried. ‘Wait!’ he exclaimed almost angrily. ‘Wait.’

Brashen halted and turned to him, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.

‘Let’s not be hasty.’ The man’s eyes shifted in indecision. ‘I’ll tell you what we can do. I’m going to talk to the Reaper’s man sometime today. If he says all’s square with you, then we’ll pay you the same wages you had there. That’s fair.’

‘No. It’s not.’ Having adopted a hard-nosed stance, he had no choice but to stick with it.

And he didn’t really want the agent to chat with anyone from the Reaper.

‘On the Reaper I was a third. If I sign with the Springeve I’ll be the mate.

Not the captain, nor a sailor before the mast. The mate, who is held liable for anything that goes wrong aboard.

The Springeve may be a smaller vessel, but it’s a bigger job.

The crew on a trader has to be worked harder and faster than the crew on a slaughter-ship.

And I’ll wager the Springeve brings in more coin than the Reaper ever did, if she’s worth her salt at all.

If I sail as mate on the Springeve I’ll want the same wages the last mate was paid. ’

‘But he had years of experience on her!’ the agent squeaked.

‘I’ve years of experience as a mate on the Vivacia, a substantially larger vessel. Come. Pay me what you paid the last man. If you made money with him, I’ll guarantee you’ll make just as much with me.’

The agent sank back into his chair. ‘You’ve the arrogance of a good mate,’ he conceded grudgingly. ‘All right. Come ready to sail, and at mate’s wages. But I warn you, if you show badly, the captain will put you off at the next port, no matter how small it is.’

‘I’ll do you one better, as I’m an honest man and a hard worker,’ Brashen offered.

‘I’ll report to the ship now. If she’s to leave the day after tomorrow, I’ll want at least that much time to be sure all aboard is stowed right, and to make sure the crew understands I’m the mate now.

It’ll give the captain a full day to test my mettle.

He doesn’t like how I do things, he tells me to walk. Is that fair?’

It was the right time to offer him such a concession. It let the agent save a bit of his pride as he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and then nodded. ‘That’s fair. You know where the Springeve ties up?’

Brashen grinned at him. ‘Do I look the sort of man who’d ask for a position aboard a vessel I hadn’t seen? I know where she’s tied. I and my sea-bag will be aboard her, should you change your mind about me. But I don’t think you will.’

‘Well. All right. Good day to you, then.’

‘Good day.’

Brashen left the man’s office, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once outside, he walked briskly down the street, a man with a purpose.

He was relieved to find his sea-bag was still in a straw pile behind a livery stable where he had slept last night.

Now if that had been stolen, he would have been in a real fix.

He opened it and glanced through it quickly, to be sure that nothing had been filched from it.

Not that he had much of value in there, but what was his was his.

He poked through the bag. His cindin supply was still there.

It was dwindling, but it would be enough.

He wouldn’t be using it while he was on duty, anyway.

He never used cindin on duty. Like as not, he’d set it aside and not even use it while he was aboard.

After all, for the years he had been on board the Vivaria, he hadn’t used it at all, not even when he had liberty on-shore.

Thinking of the Vivacia woke a dull pang in him.

When he’d lost his place on her, he’d lost a lot.

He tried to imagine how things could have been if Ephron Vestrit hadn’t sickened.

He knew he’d still be sailing aboard her.

Althea, too. The thought of her jabbed him.

He didn’t even know where she was in this dirty town.

Stupid and stubborn, that was him. There had been no reason, really, to stalk off like that on that night.

So she’d said they didn’t even know one another.

That was just words, he knew better, she knew better.

She knew him so well she had wanted nothing further to do with him.