Only her dress marked her as a woman of quality, and its dishevelled condition made it look like someone else’s cast-off. Right now, he thought sourly, she looked more like a doxie looking for a tumble than the proud daughter of a Bingtown Trader family. If she attempted to walk home alone, anything might befall her in the wildness of the night market.
But in another moment she sighed loudly. ‘Aye,’ she said, and with another heavy sigh she took his offered arm. She leaned on him heavily, and he was glad he had jettisoned his sea-bag earlier in the day. The tavern keep holding it for him knew him well, and he had parted with several small coins to ensure its safety. He did not like to think of how much more coin he had spent following her from tavern to tavern. More than he had meant to, true, but not as much as he would have ordinarily spent on a night out on the town. He was still almost sober, he reflected. This had been the most depressing first night back in home port that he had ever spent. Well, it was nearly over. All he had to do was get her safely home, and then the few hours between the stars and dawn would be his to spend as he wished.
He looked up and down the street. It was ill-lit with widely spaced torches and all but deserted at this hour. Those who were still capable of drinking were within the taverns, and everyone else in this quarter would be passed out somewhere. Nevertheless, there would be a few rogues who’d lurk down this way, hoping for a drunken sailor’s last coin. He’d be wise to go carefully, especially with Althea in tow.
‘This way,’ he told her and attempted to lead her at a brisk pace, but she almost immediately stumbled. ‘Are you that drunk?’ he asked her in annoyance before he could curb his tongue.
‘Yes,’ she admitted with a small belch. She stooped so abruptly that he thought she was going to fold up on the boardwalk. Instead she tore off first one and then another heeled and ribboned shoe. ‘And these damned things don’t help a bit.’ She stood and flung them both out into the dark street. Straightening, she turned back to him and took his arm firmly. ‘Now let’s go.’
She made her way much better barefoot, he had to admit. He grinned at himself in the darkness. Even after all the years of doing for himself, there was still some of the strait-laced Trell in him. He’d felt a shudder of horror at the impropriety of a Trader’s daughter going barefoot through the town. Well, given the rest of her condition, he doubted it would be the first thing anyone noticed. Not that he intended to troll her through the market as she was; he’d keep to the less-travelled streets and hope they met no one who could recognize them in the darkness. That much he owed to the memory of Ephron Vestrit.
But as they came to an intersection, she tugged at his arm and tried to turn toward the bright streets of the night market. ‘I’m hungry,’ she announced, and she sounded both surprised and annoyed, as if it were his fault.
‘Too bad. I’m broke,’ he lied succinctly and tried to draw her away.
She stared at him suspiciously. ‘You drank all your pay that fast? Sa’s ass, man, I knew you were a sot in port, but I didn’t think even you could go through coin that fast.’
‘I spent it on whores,’ he embellished irritably.
She appraised him in the flickering torchlight. ‘Yes. You would,’ she confirmed to herself. She shook her head. ‘Nothing you wouldn’t do, is there, Brashen Trell?’
‘Not much,’ he agreed coldly, resolute on ending the conversation. Once more he tugged at her arm but she still resisted.
‘Lots of places there will give me credit. Come on. I’ll buy for you, too.’ She had gone from judgemental to effusive in one breath.
He decided on a direct tack. ‘Althea. You’re drunk and a mess. You’re in no condition to be seen in any public place. Come on. I’m taking you home.’
The resistance went out of her and he led her docilely along the semi-dark street. They were in an area of smaller shops here, some of an unsavoury nature, others incapable of paying the high rent of a night market location. Dim lanterns shone outside those that were still open for business: tattoo parlours, incense and drug shops, and those that sated the more unusual cravings of the flesh. He was glad that trade was paltry tonight. Just when he thought that the night’s trials were over for him, Althea drew a long shuddering breath. He realized she was weeping, all but silently.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her wearily.
‘Now that my father’s dead, no one will ever be proud of me again.’ She shook her head blindly, and then blotted her eyes on her sleeve. Her voice was choked when she spoke. ‘With him, it was what I could do. With all of them, it’s how I look, or what others think of me.’
‘You’ve had too much to drink,’ he said quietly. He had meant the words to sound comforting, to mean that such things would only bother her when she was drunk and her defences were down. Instead they came out sounding like another condemnation. But she only bowed her head to it and followed him docilely, so he let it be. He was certainly having no luck at making her feel better, and honestly he was not sure that he wanted to make her feel better, or had any responsibility to do so. So her family had condemned her. Could she speak to him and forget how completely cast out from his kin he was? Only a few weeks ago, she had thrown that in his face. It wasn’t fair of her to expect sympathy now that the tables were turned.
They had walked some way in silence when she spoke again. ‘Brashen,’ she said quietly in a serious voice. ‘I’m going to get my ship back.’
He made a noncommittal noise. There was no sense in telling her he believed there was absolutely no chance of that.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ she demanded.
‘Yes. I heard you.’
‘Well. Aren’t you going to say anything?’
He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘When you get your ship back, I expect to be first mate again.’
‘Done,’ she replied grandiosely.
Brashen snorted. ‘If I knew it were that easy, I’d have demanded to be captain.’
‘No. No, I’m going to be the captain. But you can be the mate. Vivacia likes you. When I am captain, I’m only going to have people we like aboard her.’
‘Thank you,’ he said awkwardly. He had never believed that Althea liked him. In a strange way, it touched him. The captain’s daughter had liked him after all.
‘What?’ she asked him drunkenly.
‘Nothing,’ he told her. ‘Nothing at all.’
They turned into the street of the Rain Wild merchants. Here the stores were more ornate, and all but one or two were closed for the evening. The exotic and expensive merchandise they dealt in was for the very wealthy, not the wild and reckless youth that were the main customers of the night market. The tall glass windows were shuttered for the night, and hired guards, heavily armed, loitered purposefully near the various shops. More than one glowered at the pair as they made their way down the boardwalks. The wares behind the shuttered windows were tinged with the magic of the Rain Wilds. It had always seemed to Brashen that there was a shimmer of something both shivery and sweet on this street. It prickled the hair on the back of his neck at the same time that it closed his throat with awe. Even in the night, with the mysterious goods of the forbidding river trade hidden from sight, the aura of magic shimmered silvery-cold in the night air. He wondered if Althea felt it and nearly asked her, save that the question seemed both too serious and too trivial
