Then Jek’s face broke into her customary grin. She gave Althea a congratulatory punch in the shoulder. “But I think you deserve them both, and wish you the best.” With a quirk of an eyebrow and a widening grin, she demanded, “So. He any good?”

Relief numbed her. The look on Amber’s face consoled Althea that she was not the only one that Jek had duped. “He’s good enough,” she muttered abashedly.

“Well. I’m glad for you then. But don’t let him know that. Best to keep a man thinking there’s still something you wish he were doing. It keeps them imaginative. I get the top bunk now.” Jek looked at Amber as if expecting her to challenge this.

“Help yourself,” Amber replied. “I’ll get my tools and dismantle the other bunk. Which do you think we want, Jek? A fold-down table, or room to turn around?”

“Isn’t Haff moving into the empty bunk?” Jek suggested innocently. “He is taking Althea’s position as second. He should have the bunk to go with it.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Althea grinned. “He’s staying in the forecastle with the rest of the crew. He thinks they need a bit of settling out. Lavoy and his deserters have rattled the order of things. Haff feels that the men who left with him did so because they were frightened; Lavoy had convinced him that they should side with him against Brashen, because going up against Kennit was suicidal.”

Jek gave a shout of laughter. “As if that was something we didn’t all know.” At the look on Althea’s face, she sobered slightly. “Sorry. But if they didn’t know from the beginning that the odds were against us, then they were idiots and we’re well rid of them.” She levered herself up easily onto the bunk Althea had just stripped and shouldered herself into it. “Snug. But it’s up higher. I prefer to sleep high.” She gave a sigh of contentment. “So. Just what secret is Brashen keeping?”

“About what?” Althea asked.

“About Kennit and what he plans to do to him. I’ll wager it’s a good one.”

“Oh. That. Yes. It is indeed.” Althea slung her duffel to her shoulder. She tried not to wonder what judgment Sa reserved for those who led others to their deaths.

MINGSLEY PURSED HIS LIPS AND SET THE CHIPPED CUP CAREFULLY BACK ON ITS odd saucer. It held a thin tea of wintermint from the kitchen garden. The good black Jamaillian tea had gone up in flames with everything else that the Chalcedeans had hoarded in the warehouses. He cleared his throat. “So. What have you managed for us?”

Serilla gazed at him levelly. She had already made up her mind to one thing. Now that she was rid of Roed Caern, no man was ever going to intimidate her again. Especially one who thought he had her under his finger. Had yesterday taught him nothing?

True to her word, Tintaglia had set out in search of the Kendry and any other liveships she might find. In her absence, the humans had sat down together to try to craft a binding agreement. Early in the proceedings, speaking on her behalf but without consulting her, Mingsley had insisted that Serilla be given the final word on the document. “She represents Jamaillia,” he had intoned loudly. “We are all subjects of the Satrapy. We should be willing not only to have her negotiate with the dragon for us, but to assign us our correct roles in the new Bingtown.”

The fisherman, Sparse Kelter, had stood and spoken. “With no disrespect to this lady, I refuse her authority. She is welcome to sit in with us and speak as a representative of Jamaillia, if she wishes. But this is Bingtown business for Bingtown folk to sort out.”

“If you will not cede her the authority due her, then I see no reason for the New Traders to remain here,” Mingsley had blustered. “It is well known that the Old Traders have no intention of conceding our right to our lands and…”

“Oh, do just leave.” The Tattooed woman had sighed. “Or shut up and be a witness. But there is not enough daylight for us to discuss the things we must cover, let alone deal with your posturing.”

The others had stared at him, agreement in their silence. Mingsley had stood threateningly. “I know things!” he had intoned. “Things you will wish I had stayed and shared with you. Things that will render useless all you agree to here. Things that…”

But all the rest of his “things” had been lost as two brawny young Three Ships men literally picked him up and set him outside the Council chamber. His final astonished glare at Serilla had said plainly that he had expected her to take his part. She had not. Nor had she tried to claim authority over the meeting, but instead had been, as suggested, a witness for Jamaillia. And, incidentally, one who was very clear on the original terms of the Bingtown Charter. On many of the provisions, her knowledge was clearer than that of the Traders, gaining the Bingtown Traders’ surprised respect for her erudition. Perhaps they were beginning to see that her precise knowledge of the legal relationship between Bingtown and Jamaillia could benefit them after all. The New Traders had not been as pleased. Now she stared at their spokesman, daring him to take the confrontation further.