Page 270

‘He’d have to be out of his mind.’ Althea didn’t realize she’d spoken the words aloud until Davad turned to stare at her. ‘I mean, such a long and hazardous journey to undertake so impulsively!’

‘Even so, he is on his way. So flies the rumour bird. Now, not a word of this to anyone, you understand?’ He did not truly expect that last warning to be heeded. He always appended it to every bit of gossip he shared.

Althea was still mulling over his tale when the driver pulled the horses in.

The carriage came to a halt, and then gave a final bounce back.

‘Allow me,’ Davad said, and leaned over Althea to reach the door handle.

As the driver tugged from the outside, Davad put his wide shoulder against the inside of the door and shoved.

The door flew open and Althea caught at the portly man’s robe to keep him from spilling out.

The driver reluctantly offered Davad his hand.

The Trader exited the carriage, then proudly handed down each of the Vestrit women in turn.

Grag Tenira was loitering at the top of the steps outside the Traders’ Concourse.

He had girt his dark blue Trader’s robe up in the old seafarer style.

It showed a substantial amount of well-muscled legs and sandalled feet.

Somehow, he managed to look both the daring sailor and the serious Trader.

He was, she admitted to herself, a very handsome man.

His wandering eyes told her that he was watching for her arrival.

She had sent him a message at dawn about the seizure of the Vivacia.

His immediate reply had been as warm and supportive as she could wish.

He would stand beside her, and even do his best to see that she received time to speak at this meeting.

He had written that his family and Ophelia shared her concern for Vivacia.

She smiled as she caught his eye, and he gave her a white-toothed grin in response.

His smile froze when he glimpsed her escort.

Althea quietly excused herself and hastened up the Concourse steps to meet him.

He bowed formally over her extended hand.

As he straightened, he murmured, ‘I should have thought to send a carriage for you. Next time, I shall.’

‘Oh, Grag. It’s only Davad. He has been a family friend for a long time. He would be very hurt if I refused to ride with him.’

‘With friends like that, it is no wonder that the Vestrit fortune is foundering,’ Grag observed tartly.

For an instant her heart turned to ice. How could he imply such a thing? But his next words reminded her of how grievous his own situation was, and her feelings towards him softened.

‘Ophelia has been asking after you. She herself commanded wine boiled as an offering to Sa on Vivacia’s behalf.

She wanted you to know that.’ He paused, then smiled fondly.

‘She is completely bored with being tied up at the tariff dock. Now that the work on her hands is finished, she longs to sail again. Nevertheless, every time I promise her that we shall get back out to sea as soon as we can, she begs that I find a way for you to come along. I told her I could think of only one.’ He grinned engagingly at her.

‘And that was?’ Althea asked curiously. Did he mean to offer her employment on the Ophelia? Her heart quickened at the idea. She loved the matriarchal old ship.

He reddened and looked aside, but the smile still played about his mouth.

‘A hasty wedding and a bridal voyage. I suggested it in jest, of course. Such a scandal as that would raise! I expected Ophelia to scold me roundly. Instead, she thought it a wonderful idea.’ He gave her a sidelong glance.

‘Incidentally, so did my father. She brought it up to him, not I.’

He paused and looked at her expectantly, as if he had asked her a question.

But he had not, not directly. Even if she had been passionately in love with him, she could scarcely have accepted such an offer while her own family liveship was in danger.

Didn’t he realize that? She could not keep the confusion from her face.

Her distress only deepened when she glimpsed Brashen Trell standing at the bottom of the steps to the Concourse.

Their eyes met, and for an instant, she could not look away.

Grag interpreted her confusion as having a different source. ‘I don’t truly expect you to consider it,’ he said hastily. He tried not to look hurt. ‘Not here, not now. We both have too many other concerns just now. Tonight may resolve some of them. I hope it does.’

‘As do I,’ she responded, but it was difficult to put much warmth into her voice.

Too much was going on behind his shoulder.

Brashen looked at her as if she had stabbed him to the heart.

He had not changed his clothes since she had last seen him: the loose yellow shirt and dark trousers he wore made him look like a foreigner amongst all the robed Traders.

Grag followed her gaze. ‘What’s he doing here?’ he demanded, as if she would know. He took her arm as he spoke.

‘He brought us word of the Vivacia.’ Althea looked up at Grag as she replied quietly. She didn’t want Brashen to think they were staring at him and discussing him.

He met her eyes, his brow furrowed. ‘Did you ask him here, then?’

‘No.’ She gave a small shake of her head. ‘I don’t know why he’s here.’

‘Is that Amber with him? Why is she here? Why are they together?’

Althea had to look. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured.

Amber was dressed in a simple gold-brown robe, almost the same shade as the many-plaited hair that hung over her shoulders.

She had come from somewhere to stand close beside Brashen.

She said something low to him. Her expression was not pleasant, but she wasn’t looking at Brashen or Althea.

She was glaring, her eyes yellow as a cat’s, at Davad Restart.

Some vexatious fate had ordained that every facet of Althea’s life would collide together tonight.

Davad Restart had fixed his eyes on Grag Tenira. He was hastening toward them.

Davad was already huffing up the Concourse steps but her mother succeeded in reaching Althea first. Keffria and Malta were but a step behind her.

Ronica and Grag greeted one another. Then her mother looked directly in Grag’s eyes.

‘My daughter Althea may sit with you, Grag, if you wish. I know you have important matters to discuss.’

Grag bowed formally. ‘Ronica Vestrit, you honour the Teniras with your trust. I vow we shall be worthy of it.’

‘I, too, thank you for allowing this,’ Althea replied formally to her mother.

She had to admire the woman’s foresight.

Now she could take Grag’s arm and steer him into the hall before Davad reached them.

At least that confrontation would be avoided.

This Althea did, urging Grag along in a fashion just short of hasty.

She tried not to wonder how her hurried departure would look to Brashen.

Inside the great hall, she followed Grag.

She was aware of other people noting their passage.

For her to be seated with his family during such a meeting was a public acknowledgment of serious courtship.

For just an instant, she wanted to pull away from him and rejoin her family.

It was too soon for them to be seen this way; she was still not certain of her feelings.

But to leave him now would look as if they had had an abrupt disagreement.

Instead she put a gracious smile on her face and allowed Grag to seat her between his mother and his sister.

His mother was grey-haired and formidable in a solid Trader way.

His younger sister gave Althea the grin of a fellow conspirator.

They exchanged quiet greetings as the hall began to fill with people and conversation.

Grag’s mother and sister conversed softly, offering their condolences on the capture of the Vivacia, but Althea found herself unable to do more than nod to the conversation.

A sudden nervousness gripped her. She prayed the Council would allow her to speak.

Repeatedly, she rehearsed her thoughts. Somehow, she had to make the other Traders see that rescuing the Vivacia was a concern for all Bingtown, not just the Vestrit family.

The shuffling and hubbub that preceded the Traders’ meeting seemed to go on for ever.

Half a dozen people made a point of coming by the Tenira bench to exchange greetings.

Althea set a smile to her face and held it there.

They seemed to expect that she and Grag would be giddy over their courtship rather than concerned about the matters at hand.

Her irritation receded when Grag’s mother gave a wink.

In a very low voice, she murmured, ‘It is good that you are here. They will take all of us more seriously if it is plain we stand together.’ His sister gave Althea’s hand a brief squeeze.

Althea felt warmed by their regard, but also a bit uneasy.

She was not sure if she wished to be claimed this swiftly.

Conversation died as the Trader Council members ascended the dais.

They all wore the white robes that indicated they had surrendered their family alliances for now, to be loyal only to the greater good of Bingtown.

Several black-robed order-keepers took their places along the walls.

Traders’ meetings sometimes became too lively.

Their function was to keep the audience civil.