Ship of Magic. Робин Хобб

Some assurance that the ship’s business would be conducted as he and they saw fit. Well, at this point, she cared nothing for any of that. He could traffic in pickled eggs and dyeing nuts as much as he wished, as long as she could be aboard Vivacia and be a part of her.

      Althea sat up suddenly. She heaved a huge sigh of relief, as if she had suddenly resolved something. Yet nothing had changed, she told herself. A moment later, she denied that as well. For something had changed, and drastically. She had found that she was much more willing to abase herself than she had believed, that she would do virtually anything to remain aboard Vivacia. Anything.

      She glanced about herself and gave a soft groan of dismay. She’d had too much to drink, and wept too much. Her head was throbbing and she was not even sure which of Bingtown’s sailor dives she was in. One of the most sordid, that was for certain. A man had passed out and slid from his seat to the floor. That was not that unusual, but usually there was someone to drag them out of the way. Kinder innkeepers left them snoring by the door, while the more heartless simply tumbled them out into the alleys or streets for the crimpers to find. It was rumoured that some tavern keepers even trafficked with the crimpers, but Althea had always doubted that. Not in Bingtown. Other seaports, yes, she was certain of that, but not Bingtown.

      She rose unsteadily. The lace of her skirts snagged against the rough wood of the table leg. She pulled it free, heedless of how it tore and dangled. This dress she would never wear again anyway; let it tatter itself to rags tonight, she did not care. She gave a final sniff and rubbed her palms over her weary eyes. Home and to bed. Tomorrow, somehow, she would face all of it and deal with all of it. But not tonight. Sweet Sa, not tonight, let everyone be asleep when she reached home, she prayed.

      She headed for the door, but had to step over the sodden sailor on the floor. The wooden floor seemed to lurch under her, or perhaps she did not quite have her land legs back. She took a bigger stride to compensate, nearly fell, and recovered herself only when she grabbed at the door post. She heard someone laugh at her, but would not sacrifice her dignity to turn and see who. Instead, she dragged the door open and stepped out into the night.

      The darkness and the cool were both disorienting and welcome. She halted a moment on the wooden walkway outside the tavern and took several deep breaths. On the third one, she thought suddenly that she might be sick. She grasped at the railing and stood still, breathing more shallowly and staring with wide eyes until the street stopped swinging. The door behind her scraped open again and disgorged another patron. She turned warily to have him in view. In the dimness, it took a moment for her to recognize him. Then, ‘Brashen,’ she greeted him.

      ‘Althea,’ he replied wearily. Unwillingly he asked, ‘Are you all right?’

      For a moment she stood in the street looking at him. Then, ‘I want to go back to Vivacia.’ The moment she impulsively spoke the thought, she knew it was something she had to do. ‘I have to see the ship tonight. I have to speak to her, to explain why I left her today.’

      ‘Tomorrow,’ Brashen suggested. ‘When you’ve slept and you’re sober. You don’t want her to see you like this, do you?’ She heard the note of cunning in his voice as he added, ‘Surely she would be no more pleased than your father would.’

      ‘No. She’d understand. We know one another that well. She’d understand anything I did.’

      ‘Then she’d also understand if you came in the morning, clean and sober,’ Brashen pointed out reasonably. He sounded very tired. After a moment’s silence, he proffered her his elbow. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you home.’

       8 NIGHT CONVERSATIONS

      HER MOTHER BROKE DOWN as soon as they were inside the door, her knees simply folding. Kyle stood shaking his head, so Keffria saw her mother to bed. The bedroom she had so long shared with her husband had become a chamber of sickness and dying. Rather than put her mother on the cot where she had kept watch so many nights, Keffria ordered Rache to make a guest room ready for her. She sat with her until the bed was ready and the serving woman settled her impassive mother into it. Then she went to check on Selden. He was crying. He had wanted his mother and Malta had told him she was busy, too busy for a crying baby. Then she had left him sitting on the edge of his bed, without so much as calling a servant to see to him. For an instant Keffria was angry with her daughter; then she reminded herself that Malta was little more than a child herself. It was not reasonable to expect a twelve year old to care for her seven-year-old brother after a day such as they had just had.

      So she soothed the boy and helped him into his night robe and stayed by him until his eyes sagged shut. When she finally left him to seek her own bed, she was sure that every other soul in the household was already asleep. The dancing light of the candle as she trod the familiar halls put her in mind of ghosts and spirits. She suddenly wondered if the anma of her father might not still linger in the chambers where he had suffered so long. A shiver walked up her spine, standing up the hair on the back of her neck. A moment later she reproached herself. Her father’s anma was one with the ship now. And even if it were lingering here, surely her own father would bear her no ill will. Still, she was glad to slip soundlessly into the chamber where Kyle had already gone to bed. She blew out the candle lest she disturb him and undressed in the darkness, letting her garments fall as they might. She found the nightgown Nana had laid out for her and slipped into its coolness. Then finally, finally, her own bed. She turned back the blanket and linen and eased in beside her slumbering husband.

      He opened his arms to welcome her in. He had not slept without her, but had waited for her here. Despite how long the day had been, despite how weary and sorrowful she was, that gladdened her. Keffria felt as if Kyle’s touch cut through knots of pain that had been strangling her for days. For a time he simply held her close. He stroked her hair and rubbed her neck until she relaxed in his arms. Then he made love to her, simply and gently, without words as moonlight spilled into their bedroom from the high windows. This summer night’s moon was bright enough to lend almost colours to all it touched; the cream-coloured sheets on the bed, Kyle’s hair like ivory, his skin two shades of dull gold where sun had and had not touched it. Afterwards, as she curved her body against his and rested her head on his shoulder, all was silence for a time. She listened to the beating of his heart, and the movement of air through his chest and was glad of it, and of his warmth.

      Then she suddenly felt selfish and thoughtless, that she could possess all this and enjoy it, on the very night of the day when her mother lost her father, and with him all possibility of physical closeness and this kind of sharing. Lax and warm from their lovemaking, it suddenly seemed too terrible a loss to exist in any world. She did not move away from Kyle, but closer as her throat closed painfully and a single hot tear slid across her cheek to drip onto his bare shoulder. He reached up to touch it, and then her face.

      ‘Don’t,’ he told her gently. ‘Don’t. There have been enough tears today, and enough mourning. Let it all go, for now. Don’t let there be anything or anyone in this bed save we two.’

      She caught a breath. ‘I’ll try. But my mother’s loss… I just truly realized what she lost. All this.’ Her free hand charted the length of him, from shoulder to thigh, before he caught it up and brought it to his mouth for a kiss.

      ‘I know. I thought of that too, as I was touching you. Wondered if there would be a time I didn’t come back to you, what you would do…’

      ‘Don’t even speak such an idea!’ she begged him. She put her palm to his jaw and turned his face to hers in the moonlight. ‘I still don’t know that it was right,’ she suddenly declared in an altered tone. ‘I know we talked about it, that we all agreed it would be for the best, that it would protect everyone. But the look on her face when I put my hand on the peg… and then the way she just stormed off. I never would have believed Althea would do that, just leave the funeral that way. I thought she loved him more than that…’

      ‘Umh.’ Kyle considered. ‘I hadn’t expected it either. I thought she loved the ship more than that, if not her father. I expected a real battle