The Liveship Traders Series

by Robin Hobb

  He paused just long enough for them to nod. It irked Ronica to do it, as he seemed to imply they had somehow been at fault in the boy’s upraising. When he was satisfied of their agreement, Kyle went on, ‘As to ports and cargoes, well, as we have all agreed, we must trade most swiftly in that which is most profitable.’ Again he paused for their nods.

  ‘There is but one answer, then,’ he decided for them all. ‘I’ll take the Vivacia south to Jamaillia, to take on the very best we can afford. Then north to Chalced, as swift as we may go.’

  ‘The cargo?’ Ronica asked faintly. Already her heart was sinking with certainty.

  ‘Slaves, of course. Educated ones. Not pickpockets and thieves and murderers, but those that will be prized in Chalced as tutors and overseers and nannies. Artists and craftsmen. We need to buy up those whose debts have brought them to the block, rather than those condemned to slavery for crimes.’ He paused, pondering, then shook his head. ‘They will not be as hardy, of course. So perhaps we should balance the load with a hold full of… whatever our purse will afford. War-captives and bred slaves and what not. The second mate, Torg, has worked slaveships before and knows many of the auction folk. He should be able to guide us to some bargains.’

  ‘Slavery is illegal in Bingtown,’ Keffria pointed out uncertainly.

  Kyle gave a short bark of laughter. ‘For now. Not for much longer, I suspect. And you need not fear, my dear. I have no intention of stopping in Bingtown with them. It will be a swift straight run down the Inside Passage to Jamaillia City, then north again past Bingtown on to Chalced. No one will bother us.’

  ‘Pirates,’ Keffria pointed out shyly.

  ‘Have never bothered the Vivacia. How often have you heard your father brag of how fleet she is, and how nimbly she keeps a channel? Now that she is quickened, she will be even more so. Pirates know that pursuing a liveship is a waste of their time. They’ll leave us alone. Try not to trouble yourself with worrying over things I have already pondered. I would not be taking this course if I deemed it risky.’

  ‘The cargo itself may be risky to a liveship,’ Ronica pointed out quietly.

  ‘What do you fear, an uprising of some sort? No. They’ll be under the hatches and well secured below for the full trip.’ Kyle was starting to sound annoyed at their reservations about his plan.

  ‘That could be even worse then.’ Ronica tried to speak gently, as if she were offering an opinion rather than stating a danger he should plainly see for himself. ‘Liveships are sensitive creatures, Kyle, and Vivacia is only recently quickened. Just as you would not expose Malta to the… discomforts slaves must endure during transport, so too Vivacia should be sheltered from them.’

  Kyle scowled, then his expression softened. ‘Ronica. I am not unaware of the traditions surrounding liveships. And so far as our finances will allow us, I will respect them. Wintrow will be aboard, and he will be allowed some time each day simply to converse with the ship. He’ll be able to reassure her that all is well and that none of this has anything to do with her own wellbeing. Nor do I intend any unnecessary cruelty. The slaves must be kept confined and controlled, but beyond that, they will experience no harshness. I think you worry needlessly, Ronica. Besides. Even if she is distressed by it, it’s only for a time. What harm can come of that?’

  ‘You seem to have considered it well,’ Ronica tried to put reason in her voice, and replace the anger she felt with a tone of concern. ‘There are tales, of course, of what a distressed liveship may do. Some, they say, but go unwillingly, spilling wind from their sails, running aground where it seems they should float freely, dragging their anchors… but all that, no doubt, is nothing that a lively and well-trained crew cannot deal with. In more grave cases, it is said that illused ships can go mad. The Pariah is but the most famous of them. There are rumours of others, of liveships that went out and never returned, because the ship turned on its owner and crew…’

  ‘And every season there are ordinary ships that go out and do not come back. Storms and pirates are as like to be the cause of a liveship not returning as a ship going mad,’ Kyle cut in impatiently.

  ‘But with both you and Wintrow aboard, I could lose half my family at a single blow,’ Keffria wailed suddenly. ‘Oh, Kyle, do you think this is wise? Papa made money with Vivacia, and never took on illegal or dangerous cargoes.’

  Kyle scowled even more darkly. ‘Keffria, my dear, your father did not make enough money. That is exactly what we are discussing here. How to avoid his mistakes and make this family financially sound and respectable once more. Another one of his quirky decisions immediately comes to mind, in this light.’ He met Ronica’s eyes suddenly and studied her face as he observed, ‘If you don’t care for the slave-trade, we could trade up the Rain River. Certainly that’s where the world’s most desirable goods come from. Every other liveship trades up the Rain River. Why shouldn’t we?’

  Ronica met his gaze calmly. ‘Because years ago Ephron decided that the Vestrit family would no longer do River-trade. And we have not. Our trading contacts with the folk of the Wilds are gone now.’

  ‘And Ephron is dead now, too. Whatever he feared, I am ready to face it. But give to me the charts of the Rain River, and I’ll make contacts of my own,’ Kyle offered.

  ‘You would die,’ Ronica said with great certainty.

  Kyle snorted. ‘I doubt that. The Rain Wild River may be a savage one, but I’ve taken ships up rivers before. So.’ He paused, then uttered the words. ‘I’ll take those charts now. They are Keffria’s by right, you cannot withhold them from us any longer. Then we can all be content. No slaves aboard the Vivacia, and a fat trade up the Rain River.’

  Ronica did not hesitate. She lied. ‘That might be so, if such charts still existed. But they do not, Kyle. Ephron destroyed all charts of the Rain River years ago, when he decided to sever our trade connections there. He wanted to put an end to the Vestrit family trading up the Rain River. And he did.’

  Kyle shot to his feet. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he snarled. ‘Ephron was not a fool, and only a fool would destroy charts that valuable. You’re keeping them back from us, aren’t you? Saving them for precious Althea and whatever you can find to marry her?’

  ‘I don’t care to be called a liar,’ Ronica hissed. That, at least, was truth.

  ‘And I don’t care to be treated like a fool!’ Kyle raged in return. ‘No one in this family has ever given me the respect I deserve. I was willing to endure it from old Ephron. He was a man and years my senior. But I will not tolerate it from anyone else under this roof. Once and for all, I want the truth. Why did Ephron sever the family trading contacts up the Rain River, and what will it take for us to recover them?’

  Ronica merely looked at him.

  ‘Damn it, woman, can’t you see? What is the point of having a liveship if we don’t use it to exploit the River-trade? Everyone knows that only liveship families can trade up the Rain Wild. We’re a liveship Old Trader family, and what has your husband done with that privilege and that debt? He’s traded in silks and brandies, as could anyone with a raft and a sail, and watched our debt grow larger every year. Money flows down the Rain River faster than its waters do, and yet you’d have us stand on the banks of it and starve.’

  ‘There are worse things than starving, Kyle Haven,’ Ronica heard herself say.

  ‘Like what?’ he demanded.

  She could not stop herself. ‘Like having a greedy fool for a son-in-law. You don’t know what you’re talking about when you speak of the Rain River.’

  Kyle gave her an icy smile. ‘Why don’t you give me the charts then, and let me find out? If you’re right, you’ll be rid of me as a son-in-law. You’ll be free to sink all your children and grandchildren into debt.’

  ‘No!’ Keffria started up with a shriek. ‘I can’t stand this! Don’t talk about things like that. Kyle, you mustn’t go up the Rain River. Slaves are far better, trade in slaves, and take Wintrow with you if you must, but you mustn’t go up the Rain
River!’ She looked at them both pleadingly. ‘He would never come back. We both know that. Papa’s only just died and now you’re talking about letting Kyle get himself killed.’

  ‘Keffria. You’re overwrought, and over-reacting to everything.’ The look Kyle shot Ronica suggested it was her fault for playing upon her daughter’s imagination. A tiny spark of anger kindled in Ronica’s heart, but she doused it firmly, for her daughter was looking at her husband with eyes full of hurt. Opportunity, she breathed to herself. Opportunity.

  ‘Let me take care of her,’ she suggested smoothly to Kyle. ‘I’m sure you have so much to do to ready the ship. Come, Keffria. Let’s go to my sitting room. I’ll have Rache bring us some tea. In truth, I feel a bit overwrought myself. Come. Let’s leave things to Kyle for a while.’

  She stood and slipped an arm around Keffria and led her from the room. Salvage, she silently whispered to Ephron. I’ll salvage what I can of what you left me, my dear. At least one daughter I shall keep safe by me.

  11

  CONSEQUENCES AND REFLECTIONS

  ‘AND IF I WISHED to dispute these documents?’ Althea asked slowly. She tried to make her voice impartially calm, but inside she was quivering with both anger and hurt.

  Curtil scratched reluctantly at what was left of his greying hair. ‘That is specifically provided for. Anyone who disputes this last testament is automatically excluded from benefiting from it.’ He shook his head, almost apologetically. ‘It’s a standard thing,’ he told her gently. ‘It’s not as if your father was thinking specifically of you when we wrote it.’

  She looked up from her tangled hands and met his eyes firmly. ‘And you believe this is actually what he wished? That Kyle take over Vivacia, and I be dependent on my sister’s charity?’

  ‘Well, I doubt that is how he envisioned it,’ Curtil said judiciously. He took a sip of his tea. Althea wondered if that were a delaying tactic, to give him time to think. The old man straightened in his chair as if he’d decided something. ‘But I do believe he knew his own mind. No one deceived him or coerced him. I would never have been a party to that. Your father wished to see your sister as his sole heir. He did not desire to punish you, but rather to safeguard his entire family.’

  ‘Well, in both of those desires he failed,’ Althea said harshly. Then she lowered her face into her hands, ashamed to have spoken so of her father. Curtil let her be. When she lifted her face some time later, she observed, ‘You must think me a carrion bird. Yesterday my father died, and today I come quarrelling for a share of what was his.’

  Curtil offered her his handkerchief and she took it gratefully. ‘No. No, I don’t think that. When the mainstay of one’s world is taken away, it’s only natural to cling to all the rest, to try desperately to keep things as close to the way they were as one can.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘But no one can ever go back to yesterday.’

  ‘No. I suppose not.’ She sighed heavily. She considered her last pathetic straw of hope. ‘Trader Curtil. By Bingtown law, if a man swears an oath to Sa, cannot he be held to that oath as a legal contract?’

  Curtil’s long brow furrowed. ‘Well. It depends. If in a fit of anger, in a tavern, I say that by Sa, I’m going to kill so-and-so, well, that’s not a legal action in the first place, so…’

  Althea stopped mincing words. ‘If Kyle Haven swore before witnesses that if I could produce proof that I was a worthy seaman, he would give Vivacia back to me, if he swore that in Sa’s name, could it be enforced?’

  ‘Well, technically, the ship is your sister’s property, not his—’

  ‘She has ceded control of it over to him,’ Althea said impatiently. ‘Is such an oath legally binding?’

  Curtil shrugged. ‘You’d end up before the Traders’ Council, but, yes, I think you’d win. They’re conservative, the old customs count for much with them. An oath sworn before Sa would have to be legally honoured. You have witnesses to this, at least two?’

  Althea leaned back in her chair with a sigh. ‘One, perhaps, who would speak up for the truth of what I say. The other two… I no longer know any more what I could expect of my mother and sister.’

  Curtil shook his head. ‘Family disputes such as these are such messy things. I counsel you not to pursue this, Althea. It can only lead to even worse rifts.’

  ‘I do not believe that it can get any worse,’ she observed grimly, before bidding him farewell.

  She was her father’s daughter. She had gone immediately to Curtil in his offices. The old man had not seemed at all surprised to see her. As soon as she was shown into his chambers, he rose and took down several rolled documents. One after another, he set them before her, and made plain to her just how untenable her position was. She had to give her mother credit for thoroughness; the whole thing was lashed down like storm-weather cargo. Legally, she had nothing. Legally, she was dependent entirely on her sister’s goodwill.

  Legally. She did not intend that her reality would have anything to do with that kind of legality. She would not live off Keffria’s charity, especially not if it meant she would have to dance to Kyle’s tunes. No. Let them go on thinking her father had died and left her nothing. They’d be wrong. All he had taught her, all her knowledge of the sailing trade and her observations of his trading were still hers. If she could not make her own way on that, then she deserved to starve. Stoutly she told herself that when the first Vestrit came to Bingtown, he probably knew little more than that, and he had made his own way. She should be able to do as much for herself.

  No. More than that. She’d get the proof that she was all she said she was, and she’d hold Kyle to his oath. Wintrow, she was sure, would support her. It was his only way out from under his father’s thumb. But would her mother or Keffria? Althea considered. She did not think they would willingly do so. On the other hand, she did not think they would speak before the Traders’ Council and lie. Her resolve firmed itself. One way or another, she’d stand up to Kyle and claim what was rightfully hers.

  The docks were busy. Althea picked her way down to where Vivacia was tied, side-stepping men with barrows, freight wagons drawn by sweating horses, chandlers making deliveries of supplies to outbound ships and merchants hastening to inspect their incoming shipments before taking delivery. Once the hustle of the midday business on the docks would have excited her. Now it weighed her spirits. Abruptly she felt excluded from these lives, set apart and invisible. When she walked the docks dressed as befitted a daughter of a Bingtown Trader, no sailor dared to notice her, let alone call out a cheery greeting to her. It was ironic. She had chosen the simple dark dress and laced sandals that morning as a partial apology to her mother for how badly she had behaved the night before. She had little expected that it would become her sole fortune as she set off on her own into the world.

  But as she walked down the docks, her confidence peeled away from her. How was she to employ such knowledge to feed herself? How could she approach any ship’s captain or mate, dressed as she was, and convince him that she was an able-bodied sailor? While female sailors were not rare in Bingtown, they were not all that common either. One frequently saw women working the decks of Six Duchies ships when they came to Bingtown. Many of the Three-Ships’ Immigrants had become fisherfolk, and among them, family ships were worked by the whole family. So while female sailors were not unknown in Bingtown, she’d be expected to prove herself just as tough or tougher than the men she’d have to work alongside. But she wouldn’t even be given the chance to try, dressed as she was. As the rising heat of the day made her uncomfortably aware of the weight and breadth of her dark skirts and modest jacket, she longed more and more for simple canvas trousers and a cotton shirt and vest.

  Finally she stood beside Vivacia. She glanced up at the figurehead. To anyone else, it would have appeared that the ship was dozing in the sun. Althea did not even need to touch her to know that in actuality, the ship’s senses and thoughts were turned inward, keeping track of her own unloading. That job was proceeding
apace, with longshoremen streaming down her gangplanks burdened with the variety of her cargo like ants fleeing a disturbed nest. They paid scant attention to her; Althea was just another gawker on the docks. She ventured closer to Vivacia and set a hand to her sun-warmed planking. ‘Hello,’ she said softly.

  ‘Althea.’ The ship’s voice was a warm contralto. She opened her eyes and smiled down at Althea. Vivacia extended a hand towards her, but lightened as she was, she floated too high for their hands to reach. Althea had to content herself with the sensations she received through the rough planking her hand rested on. Already her ship had a much greater sense of self. She could speak to Althea, and still keep awareness of cargo as it was shifted in her holds. And, Althea realized with a pang, she focused much of her awareness on Wintrow. The boy was in the chain locker, coiling and stowing lines. The heat of the tiny enclosed room was oppressive, while the thick ship’s smell all around him made him nauseated. The distress he felt had spread through the ship as a tension in the planking and a stiffness to the spars. Here, tied to the dock, that was not so bad, but out in the open sea a ship had to be able to give with the pressures of the water and wind.

  ‘He’ll be all right,’ Althea told Vivacia comfortingly, despite the jealousy she felt over the ship’s concern. ‘It’s a hard and boring task for a green hand, but he’ll survive it. Try not to think of his discomfort right now.’

  ‘It’s worse than that,’ the ship confided quietly. ‘He’s all but a prisoner here. He doesn’t want to be aboard, he wants to be a priest. We started out to be such wonderful friends, and now I think they are making him hate me.’

  ‘No one could hate you,’ Althea assured her, and tried to make her words sound confident. ‘He does want to be somewhere else; there’s no use in my lying to you about that. So what he hates is not being where he wants to be. He couldn’t possibly hate you.’ Steeling herself, as if she plunged her hand into fire, she added, ‘You can be his strength, you know. Let him know how much you value him, and what a comfort it is to you that he is aboard. As you once did for me.’ Try as she might, she could not keep her voice from breaking on the last words.