The Liveship Traders Series

by Robin Hobb

  He blanched and stumbled backwards. He grasped at the carriage, then jerked his hand away from the blood-sticky door. ‘Why do you say such a thing to me?’ he wailed suddenly. ‘Why is everyone turning against me?’

  ‘Davad…’ She shook her head slowly. ‘You have turned against us, Davad Restart. Open your eyes. Think what you are doing. Right and wrong is not profit and loss. Some things are too evil to make money from. Right now, you may be gaining handsomely from the conflict between the Old and New Traders. But this conflict will not go on forever, and when it does end, there you will be. One side will see you as a runagate, the other as a traitor. Who will be your friends then?’

  Davad was frozen, staring at her. She wondered why she had wasted her words. He would not heed her. He was an old man, set in his ways.

  A footman came out of the door. He was chewing something and his chin shone with grease. He came to take his master’s arm, then cringed away with a gasp. ‘You’re filthy!’ he exclaimed in disgust.

  ‘You are lazy!’ Althea retorted. ‘Help your master in and see to his needs, instead of stuffing your belly in his absence. Promptly now.’

  The footman reacted to her tone of command. Gingerly, he extended his arm to his master. Slowly Davad took it. He walked a few steps, then halted. Without turning, Davad spoke. ‘Take a horse from my stable to get home. Shall I send a man with you?’

  ‘No. Thank you. I don’t need one.’ She wanted nothing from him any more.

  He nodded to himself and added something quietly.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Take the boy, then. Stable boy. Go with the lady.’ He took a breath and spoke heavily. ‘You are free.’ Davad walked into the house without a backward glance.

  She had a miniature of him. She had begged him to sit for it, shortly after they were married. He had told her it was a foolish notion, but she was his bride, and so he gave in. He had not been gracious about sitting for it. Pappas was too honest an artist to paint Kyle Haven with patient eyes, or to leave out the small fold of annoyance between his brows. So now as Keffria looked at Kyle’s portrait, he regarded her as it seemed he always had, with annoyance and impatience.

  She tried to cut past the layers of hurt in her heart to discover a core of love for him. He was her husband, the father of her children. He was the only man she had ever known. Yet, she could not honestly say that she loved him. Odd. She missed him and longed for him to return. It was not just that his return would mean the return of the family’s ship and her son. She wanted Kyle himself. Sometimes, she thought, having someone stronger to depend on was more important than having someone you loved. At the same time, she needed to settle things with him. Over the months that he had been gone on this trip, she had discovered there were words she had to say to him. She had decided she would force him to respect her, even as she had learned to demand respect from her mother and sister. She did not want him to vanish from her life before she had wrung that respect from him. If she did not gain it, she would always wonder if she had ever been truly worthy of it.

  She closed the miniature’s case and set it back on the shelf. She badly wanted to go to sleep, but wouldn’t until Althea was safely home. She found her feelings for her sister closely mimed those she had for her husband. Every time she felt that she and Althea had regained some remnant of sisterly closeness, Althea would reveal that she still played only for herself. Tonight, at the meeting, she had made it clear that the ship was what she cared about, not Kyle nor Wintrow. She wanted the ship back in Bingtown so she could challenge Keffria for ownership of it. That was all.

  She left her bedroom and drifted through the house like a wraith. She peeped in on Selden. He was deeply asleep, careless of all the problems that beset his family. When she came to Malta’s closed door, she tapped on it lightly. There was no reply. Malta, too, slept with the deep ease that children had for rest. She had behaved so well at the meeting. On the ride home, she had made no mention of the near riot, but had put Grag Tenira at ease with her casual conversation. The girl was growing up.

  Keffria went down the stairs. She knew she would find her mother in her father’s study. Ronica Vestrit, too, would not sleep until Althea returned. If they were going to stay up, they might as well do it together. As she passed through the hall, she heard a light footfall on the front porch. That would be Althea. Keffria frowned in annoyance when she knocked at the door. Why couldn’t she go around to the unlocked kitchen door? ‘I’ll get it,’ she called to her mother and went to unlatch the big front door.

  Brashen Trell and that bead merchant stood on the porch. He was wearing the same clothes as when she had last seen him. His eyes were bloodshot. The bead merchant looked composed. Her expression was friendly but offered no apology for the late hour. Keffria stared at them both. This went beyond the boundaries of all courtesy. It was rude enough of Brashen to come calling so late, unannounced, but he had also brought an outsider with him. ‘Yes?’ she asked uncomfortably.

  Her restraint didn’t seem to bother him. ‘I need to talk to all of you,’ he announced without preamble.

  ‘About what?’

  He spoke quickly. ‘About getting your ship and your husband back. Amber and I think we’ve come up with a plan.’ As he nodded toward his companion, Keffria noted a sheen of sweat on his face. The night was mild and pleasant. The feverishness of his face and manner was alarming.

  ‘Keffria? Did Althea come in?’ her mother called from down the hall.

  ‘No, Mother. It’s Brashen Trell and ah, Amber, the bead-maker.’

  This brought her mother swiftly to the door of the study. Like Keffria, she was in her night robe and wrapper. She had taken her hair down. With the long greying strands of it around her face, she looked haggard and old. Even Brashen had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed. ‘I know it is late,’ he apologized hastily. ‘But…Amber and I have conceived of a plan that might benefit all of us. Greatly.’ His dark eyes met Keffria’s squarely. It seemed to take an effort on his part. ‘I believe it might offer us our only chance of bringing your husband, son and ship safely home.’

  ‘I do not recall that you ever had any great warmth or respect for my husband,’ Keffria said stiffly. If Brashen Trell had been alone, she might have felt more kindly towards him, but his strange companion put Keffria’s hackles up. She had heard too many peculiar things about her. She did not know what these two were after, but she doubted it would be to anyone’s benefit but their own

  ‘Warmth, no. Respect, yes. In his own way, Kyle Haven was a competent captain. He just wasn’t Ephron Vestrit.’ He considered her stiff stance and cold eyes. ‘Tonight, at the meeting, Althea asked for help. That’s what I’ve come to offer her. Is she home?’ His bluntness was appalling. ‘Perhaps at a more suitable time…’ Keffria began, but her mother cut her off.

  ‘Let them in. Bring them to the study. Keffria, we don’t have the luxury of being picky about our allies. Tonight, I am willing to listen to anybody’s plan to make our family whole again. No matter how late they come calling.’

  ‘As you will, Mother,’ Keffria said stiffly. She moved aside and let them enter. The foreign woman dared to give her a sympathetic glance. The woman even smelled odd as she passed Keffria, to say nothing of her strange colouring. Keffria had no quarrel with most foreigners. Many of them were both charming and fascinating. But this bead-maker made her uneasy. Perhaps it was the way the woman assumed equality, no matter what company she was in. As Keffria followed them reluctantly down the hall to the study, she tried not to think of the nasty rumour about this woman and Althea.

  Her mother did not seem to share her misgivings. Despite the fact that she and Keffria were both in their house-robes, she welcomed them in. She even rang Rache to ask her to bring in some tea for their visitors. ‘Althea has not returned home yet,’ Ronica told them before Brashen could ask. ‘I’m waiting up for her.’

  He looked concerned. ‘That was a harsh prank playe
d upon Trader Restart. I wondered at the time if worse awaited him at home.’ He stood abruptly. ‘You probably have not heard. Bingtown has been very disturbed tonight. I think I had best go seek for Althea. Have you a horse I might borrow?’

  ‘Just my old –’ Ronica began, but at that moment, there was a noise at the door. Brashen stepped into the hall to view the entry with an alacrity that betrayed his concern.

  ‘It’s Althea, and a boy,’ he declared, and strode off to meet her as if this were his home and she the guest. Keffria exchanged a look with her mother. Although Ronica looked only puzzled, Keffria was feeling increasingly affronted by his odd behaviour. Something was not right about that man.

  She tried to take the boy’s hand to lead him to the door, but he drew back from her touch. Poor lad. How badly had he been treated, to fear the simple touch of a hand? She opened the door and gestured him inside. ‘It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you. Come inside.’ She spoke slowly and reassuringly. She wasn’t sure he even understood her. He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left Davad’s house. It had been a long and weary walk in the dark, with only gloomy thoughts to occupy her. She’d failed badly tonight. She’d talked out of turn at the Council’s meeting, and possibly hastened its early adjournment. The Council hadn’t even formally agreed to hear their concerns. She’d been forced to face what Davad Restart had become; she feared there were many other Traders who had slid down just as far. And her quick tongue had burdened her with a boy she had no means to care for. She’d brought that down on herself. She wanted nothing so much as a bath and her bed, but she supposed she’d have to see to the boy’s needs first. At least little else could go wrong tonight. Then she thought of facing Keffria and her mother after all she’d said to the Council. Her mood plummeted.

  The boy had come up the steps but made no move to go inside. Althea opened the door wide and stepped inside. ‘Come on in,’ she coaxed.

  ‘Thank Sa you’re all right!’

  She jumped and spun about at the deep masculine voice behind her. Brashen was bearing down on her. Relief shone on his face, to be instantly replaced by a frown. A moment later he was chewing her out as if she were an incompetent deckhand.

  ‘You’re damn lucky you weren’t waylaid. When I heard you’d driven Restart’s carriage off, I couldn’t believe it. Why would you throw in with a fool like that, with feelings running so high against…oh. What is that?’ He halted a step away from her, his expression changing. He lifted a hand to his nose.

  ‘S’not me!’ The boy beside her piped up indignantly. A Six Duchies’ twang twisted his tongue. ‘S’her. She’s got shit aloover’er.’ At Althea’s outraged glare, he shrugged apologetically. ‘Y’do. Y’need a bat’,’ he added in a small voice.

  It was the final blow. It was too much to endure. She transferred the frown to Brashen. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked. The words came out more bluntly than she’d intended.

  Brashen’s eyes travelled up and down her filthy robe before coming back to her face. ‘I was worried about you. As usual, you seem to have survived your impulses. But, set that aside, I have something very important to discuss with you. Regarding going after Vivacia. Amber and I think we have a plan. You might think it’s stupid, you probably won’t like it, but I think it will work.’ He spoke hastily, his words coming fast, as if challenging her to disapprove. ‘If you’ll only listen and think about it, you’ll come to find it’s really the only way to save her.’ He met her eyes again. ‘But that can wait. The boy is right. You should wash first. The smell is pretty bad.’ A small smile came and went on his face.

  It was too close an echo of his words when they’d parted in Candletown. Was he mocking her, to remind her of that, here and now? How dare he speak so familiarly to her, inside her own home? She scowled at him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the boy’s voice cut him off. ‘Nothen’ stenks wors’n peg shet,’ the boy agreed cheerily. ‘Doon’t let her get et onyer,’ he cautioned Brashen.

  ‘Small chance of that,’ she told them both coldly. She met Brashen’s eyes. ‘You can let yourself out,’ she told him. As she stalked by him, he gaped after her. The boy she could forgive; he was only a lad, in a foreign place and a strange situation. Trell had no such excuse for his manners. She’d had too long a day to listen to anything from him. She was exhausted, filthy and, Sa help her, hungry. Light and voices came from her father’s study. She’d have to face her mother and Keffria as well.

  By the time she reached the door of her father’s study, she had put a façade of calmness on her face. She stepped into the pleasant room, well aware that the smell of pig offal preceded her. She’d get it over quickly. ‘I’m home, I’m safe. I brought a little boy with me. Davad was using him as a stable boy…Mother, I know we cannot take on any more burdens just now, but he was tattooed as a slave and I simply couldn’t leave him there.’ The look on Keffria’s face was one of social horror. Althea’s explanation halted as she met Amber’s eyes. She was here, too?

  The slave boy stood in the doorway, pale eyes wide. His gaze darted from person to person. He did not speak. When Althea attempted to take his arm to pull him into the room, he snatched his hand away from her. She gave a false laugh. ‘I think it’s the blood and dung. He didn’t want to ride with me on the horse; that’s what kept me so long. When I couldn’t get him to mount with me, we left the horse and came home on foot.’ Althea glanced about for rescue. Keffria was staring past her. Althea glanced over her shoulder. Brashen Trell stood slightly behind her, arms crossed, looking very stubborn. He met her gaze steadily. His expression didn’t change.

  ‘Come in, boy. No one will hurt you. What’s your name?’ Ronica sounded weary but kind. The lad stayed where he was.

  Althea abruptly decided to escape, at least for now. ‘I’m going up to bathe and change. I won’t be long.’

  ‘It won’t take long for me to tell you our idea,’ Brashen countered pushily.

  Their gazes locked. She refused to look aside from him. He himself smelled of smoke and cindin. Who did he think he was? She wasn’t going to let him bully her here in her father’s house. ‘I’m afraid I’m much too tired to listen to any more from you, Brashen Trell.’ Her voice walked a thin line between correct and cold as she added, ‘I believe it’s far too late for conversation.’ The line of his mouth flattened. For a moment, he almost looked hurt at her rebuff.

  Rache coming into the room interrupted their standoff. She carried a tray with a large pot of tea and cups on it. There was a small plate of spice cakes, just enough to be polite. The boy didn’t move from where he stood, but he flared his nose and snuffed after them like a dog.

  ‘Althea.’ Her mother’s tone more reminded than rebuked. ‘I, at least, am interested in what Brashen has to propose. I think we need to consider every possible solution to our situation. If you are that tired, we will, of course, excuse you. But I’d rather that you returned.’ Her mother’s gaze travelled to the serving woman. She smiled at her apologetically. ‘Rache, if you don’t mind, I think we’ll need more cups. And something more substantial than spice cakes for the boy, please.’ Ronica’s voice was as measured and controlled as if this were an everyday occurrence.

  Her mother’s courtesy jabbed at Althea’s conscience. This was still her father’s house. She softened her tone. ‘If you wish, Mother. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll only be a few moments.’ Keffria poured for their odd guests. She tried to make polite conversation, but her mother stared at the cold grate while Brashen paced the room. Amber chose to sit cross-legged on the floor not far from where the boy hovered. She ignored Keffria’s attempts at small talk. Instead, she lured the slaveboy with bits of cake, as if he were a shy puppy, until he finally snatched a whole cake from her hand. Amber did not seem to think her own behaviour odd or outrageous at all. She smiled proudly when the boy stuffed the whole cake into his mouth. ‘You see,’ she said to him quietly. ‘Folk are kind here. You’re safe now.’

  Althea was true to her
word. Rache had scarcely come back with more tea, cups, and a plate of warmed food for the boy before she returned. She must have washed with cold water to be so quick, Keffria thought to herself. She was attired in a simple house robe. Her wet hair had been braided and pinned up severely. The cold water had rouged her cheeks. She somehow managed to look both tired and freshened. Without any apologies, she helped herself to tea and cakes. She glanced at Amber, then went to join her on the floor. The boy sat on the other side of her, completely engrossed in his food. She addressed her first words to Amber. ‘Brashen says you have a plan to save the Vivacia. He also told me I wouldn’t like it, but that I’d come to see it was the only way. What is it?’

  Amber gave Brashen a sidelong glance. ‘Thank you for preparing her so well,’ she said with dry sarcasm. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug followed by a sigh. ‘It is late. I think I should state it briefly, and then leave you all to think about it.’ The woman flowed smoothly to her feet, as if a string attached to her head had lifted her from the floor. She advanced to the centre of the room and looked around at all of them to be sure of their attention. She smiled at the boy who was wolfing down the food on the platter. He was aware of nothing save the next bite. Amber sketched a small bow and began. She put Keffria in mind of an actor on the stage.

  ‘I propose this. To recapture a liveship, let us use a liveship.’ Her gaze touched each of them in turn. ‘The Paragon, to be precise. We buy, lease, or steal him, put a crew aboard with Brashen in command and go after the Vivacia.’ In the shocked silence that followed, she added, ‘If you suspect my motive in this, be assured that at least half of it is to save the Paragon from being turned into lumber. I think your good friend Davad Restart could be instrumental in getting the Ludlucks to part with the ship for a reasonable price. He has seemed to have their ear for the outrageous offers the New Traders have been making. Perhaps he might be willing to seize this opportunity to save face with the Old Traders. Perhaps that is even truer after tonight’s events. I’m willing to put up everything I own as part payment for the ship. So. What say you?’