As little as two months ago, Althea would have exploded at him. But the time she had spent secluded with Vivacia and the events of the last three days had changed her. It was not that she was a better-tempered person, she decided detachedly. It was that her anger had learned a terrible patience. What good was wasting words on a petty and tyrannical second mate? He was a little yapping dog. She was a tigress. One did not waste snarls on such a creature. One waited until one could snap his spine with a single blow. He had sealed his fate with his mistreatment of Wintrow. His rudeness to Althea would be redeemed at the same time.
    And with a wave of giddiness, Althea realized that while her hand rested on the planking, her thoughts were Vivacia's and Vivacia's were hers. Belatedly she pulled free of the ship, feeling as if she drew her hand out of cold wrist-deep molasses. "No, Vivacia," Althea said quietly. "Do not let my anger become your own. And leave vengeance to me, do not soil yourself with it. You are too big, too beautiful; it is unworthy of you."
    "He is unworthy of my deck, then," Vivacia replied in a low, bitter voice. "Why must I tolerate vermin like him while you are put ashore? You cannot tell me it is the Vestrit way to treat kinsmen so."
    "No. No, it is not," Althea hastily assured her.
    "I said, move on," Torg shouted once more from the deck above her. Althea glanced up at him. He was leaning over the railing, shaking his fist at her. "Move along, or I'll have you moved along!"
    "There's really nothing he can do," Althea assured the ship. But even as she spoke, she heard a muffled cry and then a heavy thud from within Vivacia's hold. Someone cursed fluently on the deck, followed by cries for Torg. A young sailor's voice floated up clearly. "The hoist tackle's pulled free of the beam, sir! I'd swear it was set sound enough when we started work."
    Torg's head disappeared and Althea heard the sound of his feet running across the deck. The unloading of Vivacia's cargo ground to a halt as half the crew came to gawk at the smashed pallet and crates and the scattered comfer nuts. "That should keep him busy for a time," Vivacia observed sweetly.
    "I do have to leave, though," Althea hastily decided. If she stayed, she would have to ask the ship if she had had anything to do with the fallen block and tackle. It was suddenly too chill a secret; she could live with her suspicions more easily than she could live with being a party to such knowledge. "Take care of yourself," she told Vivacia. "And look after Wintrow, too."
    "Althea! Will you be back?"
    "Of course I will. There are just a few things I need to take care of. But I'll be back to see you again before you sail."