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Above her, Paragon crossed his arms on his chest. His head was lifted. If he had had eyes, they would have been staring out to sea. The bunched muscles of his jaws clamped his mouth tightly shut. He was as still as if carved of ordinary wood.

Davad took Amis Ludluck’s arm and tugged. ‘Come along, Amis. I’ll take you home now. Then I’ll go and secure your shop for you. I think you’ve made the best of a bad bargain. I think we all have. Good day, Ronica, Althea. Remember, this transaction did not begin with me.’

‘We’ll remember,’ Althea said flatly. She didn’t watch them go.

She stared up at the unmoving and silent ship.

Guilt gnawed at her. Why had she thought that if Amis Ludluck came down here, she would persuade Paragon to go willingly?

Ludluck spite was legendary in Bingtown.

Why had she thought the woman would not turn it on her own abandoned ship?

Suddenly, it all seemed insane. To set sail on a mad ship, in the dim hope of seeking out and recovering her family’s liveship was an errand for a fool.

Who else could believe in the success of such an undertaking?

‘Paragon?’ Amber said quietly. ‘Paragon, she’s gone now.

Everything is going to be all right, you’ll see.

It’s for the best. You’ll be with people who care about you now.

Out on the sea again, where a ship belongs.

When you next return to Bingtown, you’ll be a hero.

All will see your value then, even the Ludlucks. Paragon?’

Clef crept out from behind Brashen. He slipped up to the ship and shyly set a hand to his planking. He looked up at the still figurehead above him. ‘Sometimes,’ he said earnestly, ‘Y’ave t’be yer own fam’ly. When yer all at’s left ov et.’

Paragon did not speak.

The Crosspatch was as prime a catch as anything he’d ever taken.

A rare elation filled Kennit as he was hoisted on to her deck.

Etta was waiting for him, to hand him his crutch.

There was a double spice to this victory.

Not only was it his first substantial catch since he had been healed, but Wintrow was here to witness it.

He could almost feel the wonder in the boy at his heels.

Well, let him gawk about at the spit-and-polish little vessel, and rethink his measure of Captain Kennit.

Did young Wintrow think he was some one-legged rascal, fit only to catch stinking slave-ships?

Let him look about at this, and know Kennit for one of the best freebooters that had ever sailed the Inside Passage.

His satisfaction expressed itself as magnanimity towards the crew, and Sorcor in particular. When the red-handed rogue hastened up to report to him, Kennit shocked him with a hearty clap on the shoulder and a ‘Well done! As nice a bit of piracy as I’ve ever seen! Any hostages?’

Sorcor grinned, elated at such praise. ‘Just ship’s officers, Captain.

It was like you said it would be; the others were as much fighters as sailors.

None of them wanted to lay down weapons and take up with us.

Gave them a chance twice, I did. Told them, “Yield and we’ll let you sign articles with us.

” But they wouldn’t. Damn shame, too. There was some fine fighters aboard, but the only ones left are the ones who came here with me. ’ Sorcor grinned at his own joke.

‘The ship’s officers, Sorcor?’

‘Confined below. Their mate took a couple bad knocks to the head before he’d go down, but he’ll be fine. There’s a pretty tally of other loot, too. The slaves are okay. Some are a bit rattled at the sudden change, but they’ll come round.’

‘Losses?’ Kennit stumped along briskly.

Sorcor’s grin faded. ‘Heavier than we expected, sir. These were fighters, and they went down blades in hands. We lost Clifto, Marl, and Burry. Kemper’s short an eye.

A few of the others took minor damage. Opal got his face laid open to his teeth.

He’s wild with the pain; I sent him back to the Marietta already. He was screaming something awful.’

‘Opal.’ Kennit considered a moment. ‘Have him sent over to Vivacia. Wintrow will do what he can with him in a bit. Lad has a knack for healing. I notice you’ve made no mention of yourself, Sorcor.’

The big pirate grinned and made a deprecatory gesture at his bloodied left sleeve. ‘Two swords to his one and he still managed to cut me. I’m ashamed of myself.’

‘Nevertheless, we’ll have it seen to. Where’s Etta? Etta! See to Sorcor’s arm, there’s a good lass. Wintrow, you’ll come with me. Let’s take a quick look at what we’ve won today.’

It was not a quick look. Kennit deliberately led the boy through every hold.

He showed him tapestries and rugs rolled and wrapped in canvas for the journey.

He showed him casks of coffee beans and chests of tea, thick ropes of dream-herbs coiled in stoppered clay pots and glistening spools of thread in gilt, red, and purple.

All of this, Kennit explained to him, was the fruit of slavery.

Pretty as they might be, they had been bought with blood.

Did Wintrow think it right that men such as Avery and his backers be allowed to keep their ill-gotten gains?

‘As long as slavery is profitable, men will traffic in it. Greed was what brought your own father into this game. It was his downfall. I intend to see that it is the downfall of all who trade in human flesh.’

Wintrow nodded slowly. Kennit was not sure if he were completely convinced of the captain’s sincerity.

Perhaps that didn’t matter. As long as he could cite righteous reasons for piracy and battle, the boy would have to agree with him.

That would make it easier to sway the ship to his will.

He threw an arm around Wintrow’s shoulders and suggested, ‘Let’s go back to Vivacia.

I wanted you to see this, and hear from Sorcor himself that we offered those wretches a chance to live. What more could we have done, eh?’

It was the perfect endnote. He should have known it was too good to last. As he and Wintrow emerged onto the deck, three female slaves hurried toward him.

Before they could reach him, Etta stepped in front of them, stopping them with her hand on the hilt of her blade.

They cowered together as she stared at them.

Etta spoke to Kennit. ‘Bit of a problem here. These three are insisting they don’t want to be freed.

They want to be ransomed with the captain and mate. ’

‘And why is that?’ Kennit asked in cool but civil tones. He ran his eyes over them. They were all comely women, young and smooth-skinned. Their slave tattoos were tiny pale things, barely visible in the sunlight.

‘The stupid bitches think they’d rather go on being slaves than have to find their own lives in Divvytown. Used to being rich men’s pets, they are.’

‘I’m a poet, not a whore,’ one woman broke in angrily.

‘Captain Avery came to Jamaillia City to buy me especially for Sep Kordor. He is a wealthy noble and well known as a fair-handed master. If I go to him, he will provide for me and let me pursue my art. If I go with you, who knows what I must do to support myself? Even if I continue to compose, who will be my audience, save thieves and cutthroats in a backwater scum-town?’

‘Maybe you’d rather sing for the serpents?’ Etta suggested sweetly. She drew her blade and touched the tip lightly to the woman’s belly above her navel. The poet refused to flinch. She gave her head a shake and stared at Kennit instead.

‘And you two…are you poets as well?’ Kennit asked lazily. They shook their heads.

‘I weave tapestries,’ one replied huskily.

‘I am a body servant, skilled in massage and the lesser healings,’ the other said when Kennit fixed his eyes on her.

‘And…let me guess…all of you are for the Sep whoever…the very rich man with many servants?’ Kennit’s jovial tone woke an answering sparkle in Etta’s eyes. She casually put more pressure on her blade, to nudge the first one back into line with the others. The other two slaves nodded.

‘There. You see?’ Kennit turned away from them, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

‘That is what slavery does, Wintrow. A rich man buys their talents for his own glory. He buys them for money, and they do not even know they are whores. Not one has enough pride to speak her own name. They have become a part of their master already.’

‘What shall I do with them?’ Etta called after him as he limped away.

He gave a small sigh. ‘They wish to be slaves. Put them with the others to be ransomed. Sep Kordor bought them once: he may as well buy them again.’ Inspiration struck Kennit.

‘Whatever they bring in ransom, we will divide amongst those who have chosen freedom. It will give them a better start.’ Etta nodded in slow consternation before she herded her charges away.

Kennit turned to Wintrow at his side. ‘You see, I do not force people to my way of thinking. I won’t force you, nor Vivacia.

I think you are already coming to see that I am not the wicked pirate you supposed me to be. ’

As they strolled towards the rope chair that would return Kennit to the Vivacia’s boat, he asked Wintrow, ‘Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be captain of your own ship? A sweet little vessel like this, perhaps?’

Wintrow looked around before he answered. ‘She’s a lovely ship. But, no, my heart does not lie in that direction. Given my freedom, I’d still return to my monastery.’

‘Your freedom? Wintrow! The tattoo on your face means nothing to me. Do you still consider yourself a slave?’ Kennit feigned astonishment.