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He told her other things that greatly surprised her.

Part of the shock was his casual assumption that all knew these things were so.

He spoke of the carrier pigeons that ferried news between the exiles in the Pirate Isle settlements and their kin in Jamaillia City.

He spoke of the legitimate trading ships from Jamaillia and even Bingtown that regularly made furtive stops in the Pirate Isles.

The latest gossip of Jamaillia City and even Bingtown was common knowledge in Divvytown.

The news he passed on seemed far-fetched to Althea.

An uprising in Bingtown had burned half the town.

In retaliation, the Bingtown Traders had taken the visiting Satrap hostage.

New Traders had conveyed that word to Jamaillia City, where those loyal to the Satrap were raising a fleet of warships to teach the rebellious province proper humility.

There would be rich pickings in the wake of battle between Bingtown and Jamaillia.

The pirates were already anticipating Jamaillian ships fat with Bingtown and Rain Wild goods.

Discord between the two cities could only be good for the Pirate Isles.

Althea hung on his every word, trapped between horror and fascination.

Could any of this be true? If it was, what did it mean for her family and home?

Even if she accepted that time and distance had fertilized the rumours, it boded ill for all she held dear.

Meanwhile, the pirate waxed large in his telling of these tales, flattered and encouraged by her rapt attention.

He gloated that when Kennit returned and heard these tidings, he would know that his time was truly come.

In the midst of his neighbours’ discord, he could seize power.

He had often told them that when the time was right, he planned to control all trade through the Pirate Isles. Surely, that time was soon.

A sudden gust of wind hit the tavern’s window, rattling it and making her jump. It made a space in the conversation. ‘This Kennit sounds to me like a man worth meeting. Is he returning to Divvytown soon?’

The young man shrugged. ‘When his holds are full he’ll return.

He’ll bring us word from the Others’ Island as well; he has taken his priest there for the Others to augur his destiny.

But no doubt Kennit will pirate his way back.

Kennit sails when and where he will, but he never passes up prey.

’ He cocked his head. ‘I understand your interest in him. There is no woman in Divvytown who does not sigh at his name. He is a man to put the rest of us into the shade. But you should know that he has a woman. Etta is her name and her tongue is as sharp as her knife. Some say that in Etta, Kennit has found the missing half of his soul. All men should be so fortunate.’ He leaned closer, eyes warm, and spoke quietly.

‘Kennit has a woman, and is content with her. But I do not.’

Brashen stretched, rolling his shoulders and spreading his arms. When he rocked forwards, his left hand rested on Althea’s shoulder.

He inclined very slightly towards the other man, and gently confided.

‘What a pity. I do.’ He smiled before he turned back to Maystar’s conversation, but left his arm across Althea’s shoulders.

She tried for a disarming smile and shrugged her free shoulder.

‘No offence meant,’ the man said a bit stiffly.

‘None taken,’ she assured him. A warm flush rose to her face when, down the table, Jek caught her eye and dropped her a slow congratulatory wink.

Damn Brashen! Had he completely forgotten that they were trying to keep this a secret?

Yet, she could not deny that she took keen pleasure in the weight of his arm across her shoulders.

Was this what he had been speaking of, the comfort of publicly claiming one another?

Once they returned to the ship, they would both have to disavow this as a sham, as part of their overall ploy to gain information.

But for now… She relaxed into him, and felt the solid warmth of his body, his hip against hers. He shifted slightly to accommodate her.

The pirate drained off his beer. He set the mug down with a thump. ‘Well, Maystar, I see little threat from these folk. Noon’s well past now, and I’ve still a day’s work to do.’

Maystar, in the midst of a long-winded tale, dismissed him with a wave.

The man gave Althea a farewell nod, rather curt, and left.

With his departure, several others also made their excuses and left.

Brashen gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.

Well done. They’d established they were no risk to Divvytown.

Rain still streamed down the tavern window.

The uniform greyness of the day had disguised the passage of time.

Brashen patiently heard Maystar’s tale out to the end, and then made another show of stretching.

‘Well, I could listen to you all day; it’s a pleasure to hear a man who can properly spin a yarn.

Unfortunately, that won’t fill my water barrels.

I’d best put some of my crew to that, but I’ve noticed that the old water dock is gone completely.

Where do ships take on water now? And I’ve promised the crew a bit of fresh meat if there’s any to be had.

Be kind to a stranger, and steer me to an honest butcher. ’

But Brashen was not rid of Maystar that easily.

The garrulous harbourmaster told him where to take on water, but then went on to discuss at great length the relative merits of the two butchers in Divvytown.

Brashen interrupted the man briefly, to put Jek in charge of the others.

They could take their shore time now, but he warned them that he expected the ship’s casks to be filled before noon tomorrow.

‘Be back at the docks by nightfall. The second’s coming with me. ’

When a boy came running to tell Maystar that his pigs were loose again, the old man hurried off, uttering oaths and threats against the hapless swine.

Brashen and Jek exchanged a look. She stood up, stepping over the bench she’d been seated on.

‘Care to show me where we can fill our ship’s casks?

’ she asked the man she’d been talking with, and he agreed readily.

Without further ado, the crew dispersed.

Outside the tavern, the rain was falling determinedly, driven by a relentless wind.

The streets were mud, but they ran straight.

Brashen and Althea walked in silent companionship down a wooden walkway; a ditch beneath it rushed with rainwater draining from the street down to the harbour.

Few of the structures boasted glass windows and most were tightly shuttered today against the downpour.

The town had not the elegance or beauty of Bingtown, but it shared Bingtown’s purpose.

Althea could almost smell the commerce here.

For a town burnt to the ground not so long ago, it had recovered well.

They passed another tavern, this one built of raw timbers, and heard within it a minstrel singing with a harp.

Since they had anchored, another ship had come into the lagoon and tied up at the pier.

An ant line of men with barrows was unloading the cargo from the ship to a warehouse.

Divvytown was a prosperous lively trade port; folk everywhere thanked Kennit for that.

The people hurrying along the walkway to escape the rain wore an amazing variety of garbs.

Some of the languages she overheard she did not even recognize.

Many faces wore tattoos, not just on their faces, but on arms, calves and hands.

Not all face tattoos were slave marks: some had decorated themselves with fanciful designs.

‘It’s a declaration,’ Brashen explained quietly. ‘Many bear tattoos they cannot erase. So they obscure them with others. They dim the past with a brighter future.’

‘Odd,’ she muttered quietly.

‘No,’ he asserted. She turned in surprise at the vehemence in his voice.

More quietly, he went on, ‘I understand the impulse. You don’t know how I’ve fought, Althea, to try to make folk see the man I am instead of the wild boy I was.

If a thousand needle pricks in my face would obscure my past, I’d endure it. ’

‘Divvytown is a part of your past.’ There was no accusation in her voice.

He looked around the busy little port as if seeing another place and time.

‘It was. It is. I was last here on the Springeve , and that was none too honest an operation. But years ago, also, I was here. I had only a few voyages under my belt when pirates took the ship I was on. They gave me a choice. Join them or die. I joined.’ He pushed his wet hair back and met her eyes. ‘No apologies for that.’

‘None are needed,’ she replied. The rain on his face, the drops glistening in his hair, his dark eyes and the simple nearness of him suddenly overwhelmed her.

Something of her rush of emotion must have shown on her face, for his eyes widened.

Heedless of who might see, she seized his wet hand.

‘I can’t explain it,’ she laughed up at him.

For an instant, just looking at him was all she needed in the world.

He squeezed her hand. ‘Come on. Let’s buy some stuff and talk to people. We do have a reason to be here.’