‘My work has kept me busy. When your father gives me a ship’s ticket, I want to have truly earned it.’
‘You already have. No one on board this vessel would ever dispute your ability. However, I do not think you have truly been that busy. I think our last conversation made you uncomfortable.’
She did not deny it. Instead, she noted, ‘You speak very directly, don’t you? I like that.’
‘Simple questions usually get simple answers. A man likes to know where he stands.’
‘That’s reasonable. A woman needs some time to think.’ Althea tried to keep her tone light but not flippant.
He did not meet her eyes as he pressed her. ‘Most women don’t need time to think about whether or not they could love someone.’ Was there a trace of hurt in his voice?
‘I didn’t think that was what you had asked me,’ Althea replied honestly. ‘I thought the topic under discussion was a possible marriage between us. If you are asking whether I could come to care for you, then I believe the answer is an easy “yes”. You are thoughtful, courteous and kind.’ Althea glanced toward Ophelia. The figurehead was intently motionless, staring over the water. Althea pitched her voice just a trifle louder. ‘Not to mention that you are very handsome and likely to inherit a beautiful ship.’
As she had hoped, they both laughed, and suddenly the atmosphere eased. Grag reached casually to cover her hand with his. She did not move away but added in a lower voice, ‘Marriage is not about love alone. Especially not a marriage between two Bingtown Trader families. For that is what it would be, not a simple joining of you and me, but an alliance of our families. I have to think of many things. If I married you, and went to sea with you, what would become of my own ship? All I have done in the last year, Grag, I have done with an eye to recovering her. Would marrying you mean giving up Vivacia?’ She faced him and he looked down on her with shadowed eyes. ‘Would you give up the Ophelia to marry me and live with me aboard the Vivacia while I captained her?’
The shock on his face made it evident he had never considered such a question.
‘And that is but the first of my considerations. I must ask myself, what would I bring to our partnership, other than my family’s debts? I inherited nothing from my father, Grag. Nothing except the sailing skills he taught me. I am sure my family would give me some sort of a dowry for the sake of respectability. But it would not be what you could usually expect to accompany a Trader’s daughter.’ Althea shook her head. ‘You could get more marrying a Three Ships girl. They’d pay richly for the family connection.’
He lifted his hand from hers. There was almost a chill in his voice as he asked, ‘Did you think that was why I made my proposal? To see how good an offer your family would make?’
‘No. Nevertheless, it is something I must consider, if only for the sake of my pride. You were the one who suggested that perhaps planning should come ahead of passion. So I consider the situation from every angle. Look at it coldly, Grag. To marry you, I must not only give up my ship, but also see her in the hands of a man I despise. To marry me, you must give up other partners who might create lucrative alliances for your family. If you consider these aspects, it does not look promising for us.’
Grag took in a slow breath. ‘I suppose you are right and –’
‘Just kiss her, you great booby!’ Ophelia hissed loudly.
Althea burst into a laugh that was cut off by Grag’s mouth on hers. The kiss was startling, and her body’s response to it was shocking. Heat washed through her and she turned towards him, lifting one hand to his shoulder. She expected him to embrace her and continue the kiss. Before she could wonder how far she would allow him to continue, he lifted his mouth from hers and drew back a little. He would not. This was Grag, not Brashen, she reminded herself. He was ruled by his head, not his passions. She denied the disappointment in the comparison. In the moment that he lifted his mouth from hers, she convinced herself that if he had not broken the kiss, she would have. Grag Tenira was to be taken seriously. He was not an anonymous fling in a distant seaport. How she conducted herself with him would affect the rest of her life in Bingtown. Caution was the better path.
She took a breath. ‘Well!’ she said, in a tone intended to convey surprise without affront.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered and looked aside with a half-grin that did not look repentant at all. ‘Ophelia’s been bossing me around since I was eight years old.’
‘That did sound like a direct order,’ Althea agreed affably. She turned back to look out over the water. After a moment, his hand covered hers on the railing.
‘There would be difficulties to surmount,’ he said judiciously. ‘That is true of any undertaking. Althea, I ask only that you consider my offer. I could scarcely ask you for an answer now. You have not discussed it with your family; I have not broached the subject with my parents. We do not even know what sort of a storm we shall encounter when we tie up in Bingtown. I’d just like you to consider my offer. That’s all.’
‘That I will,’ she replied. The night was easy around them, and the clasp of his callused hand was warm.
She did not know what Captain Tenira or Grag said to the crew, but no one evinced any surprise when she appeared on deck in her boy’s togs. Ophelia entered Bingtown Harbour on a crisp breeze that made the hands work lively. If any of the crew recognized Althea as Athel from Candletown, no one was foolish enough to admit it. Instead, they accepted her toiling beside them with only a bit of good-natured teasing. Ophelia sailed with a will. The seasoned ship knew her business and cooperated with her crew, calling out suggestions to the man on the wheel. This was not operating a contraption of planks and canvas and lines to a place beside a dock, but the guiding of a cognizant creature into her home.
The Ophelia’s boats were put out to assist her to her berth at the tax dock. Althea took a spot on a bench and an oar; Captain Tenira had decided it was the best way to distance her from the ship and give her a chance to slip away if she needed it. After all their preparations, it was almost a disappointment to see the harbour traffic so ordinary. No one seemed to take any unusual notice of the Ophelia. As Althea’s eyes roved over the busy trading port, she felt a sudden rush of emotion far stronger than any homesickness. She had been on longer voyages with her father, and travelled farther than on this last trip. Nevertheless, she felt as if she saw Bingtown for the first time in years.
Bingtown was cupped in a sparkling blue bay. Rolling hills in the bright greens of spring backed the lively merchant town. Even before they docked, she could smell the smoke and cooking and cattle. The shrill cries of the hawkers in the market floated out over the water. The streets bustled with traffic, and the waters of the harbour were no less busy. Small craft plied back and forth between the shore and anchored ships. Little fishing vessels threaded their way through the tall-masted merchant ships to bring their catch to market. It was a symphony of sight and sound and smell, and its theme was Bingtown.
A discordant note jarred the harmony as the departure of a ship slowly disclosed a Chalcedean galley tied up at the tax dock. The Satrap’s banner hung flaccid from the single mast. Althea knew at a glance it was not the same galley that had accosted them; this one sported a fanged cat’s face upon the figurehead, and showed no signs of fire damage. Her frown only deepened. How many of the galleys were in Bingtown waters? Why had it been allowed into the harbour at all?
She kept her thoughts to herself and performed her share of the docking tasks as if she were no more than a ship’s boy. When Captain Tenira barked at her to bring his sea bag and follow snappy, she did not flinch at the unusual order. She sensed he wanted her to witness his meeting with the Satrap’s tax minister. She shouldered the small canvas bag and followed meekly at his heels. Grag, as first mate, stayed aboard to supervise the ship.
Tenira strode into the tax minister’s office. A clerk greeted them and brusquely demanded the manifest of the ship’s cargo. Althea kept her eyes averted, even when Tenira slammed his fist on the counter and demanded to speak with the tariff minister.
The clerk