to unfold for me. It’s like…’ He fumbled for a metaphor. ‘When I was younger, it was as if life was a beautiful gift, wrapped in exquisite paper and adorned with ribbons. And I loved it, even though all I knew of it was the outside of the package. But in the last year or so, I’ve finally started to see there is something even better, inside the package. I’m learning to see past the fancy wrappings, to the heart of things. I’m right on the edge. I can’t stop now.’
‘It was wrong,’ his father conceded suddenly. But even as Wintrow’s heart started to soar with relief, the sea-captain went on. ‘All those years ago, I knew it was wrong to send you away. I stood there and I kept my mouth shut and I let your mother have her way, because it seemed so important to her. And small as Selden was, he was a brave little fellow, and I knew I’d have a son to follow after me.’
He rose from his seat at the table and crossed the room, to stare out the window as he had on that morning years ago. Kyle Haven shook his head at himself. ‘But I should have followed my instincts. I knew it was a bad decision, and so it has proved. The time has come when I, when this family, needs a young son to rise up and take his place on the family ship, and we are not prepared. Selden is still too young. Two years from now, even one perhaps, and I’d take him as a ship’s boy.’ He turned back to face the room. ‘We brought this on ourselves, all of us. And so all of us will have to endure, without complaining, the pain of correcting that mistake. It means that you women will have to manage on your own here for yet another year. Somehow our creditors must be made to wait, and you must do whatever it takes to wring a profit out of our holdings. Those that cannot be made profitable must be sold to shore up those that can. It means another year of sailing for me, and a hard year, for we will have to sail fast and traffic in that which is most profitable. And for you, Wintrow, it means a single year in which I must teach you all you should have learned in the last three, a single year for you to learn the ways of a man and a sailor.’ He paced the room as he spoke, ticking off orders and goals on his fingers. Wintrow suddenly knew that this was how he spoke to his mate on board ship, lining out tasks to be done. This was Captain Haven, accustomed to unquestioning obedience and he was sure to be astonished by what was about to happen.
Wintrow stood, pushing his chair back carefully. ‘I am going back to the monastery. I have little to pack, and all I can do here I have done. I shall be leaving today.’ He looked around the table. ‘I promised Vivacia when I left her this morning that someone would come down to spend the rest of the day with her. I suggest you wake Althea and ask her to go.’
His father’s face reddened with instant rage. ‘Sit down and stop talking nonsense,’ he barked. ‘You’ll do as you’re told. That’ll be your first lesson to learn.’
Wintrow thought the beating of his heart was making his whole body shake. Was he afraid of his own father? Yes. It took all the defiance he could muster to remain standing. He had nothing left to speak with. Yet even as he met his father’s glare and did not look away, even as he stood still and silent as the furious man advanced on him, a cool and particular part of himself observed, ‘yes, but it’s only physical fear of physical things’. The notion caught up his whole mind in its web, so he paid no attention to his mother crying out and then shrieking, ‘Oh, Kyle, no, please, please don’t, just talk to him, persuade him, don’t, oh, please don’t!’ and his grandmother’s voice raised in command, a fierce shout of, ‘This is my home and you will not…’
Then the fist hit the side of his face, making a tremendous crack as it impacted. So fast and so slowly he went down, amazed or ashamed that he had neither lifted a hand to defend himself nor fled, and all the time somewhere a philosophical priest was saying, ‘physical fear, ah, I see, but is there another kind, and what would have to be done to me to make me feel it?’ Then the flagstone floor struck him, hard and cool despite the dawning heat of the day. Losing consciousness felt like he was sinking down into the floor, becoming one with it as he had with the ship, save that the floor thought only of darkness. So did Wintrow.
‘KYLE, I WILL NOT HAVE IT!’
Her mother’s voice echoed clearly down the stone-flagged hall. The strident ring of it made Althea want to hurry her headache off in the other direction, even as the mention of Kyle’s name made her want to charge into battle. Caution, she counselled herself. The first thing to do was to find out what kind of weather she was sailing into. She slowed her step as she made her way down the hall to the dining room.
‘He’s my son. I’ll discipline him as I see fit. It may seem harsh right now, but the faster he learns to mind, and mind quickly, the easier it will go for him on the ship. He’ll come round, and you’ll find he’s not much hurt. More shocked than anything else, most likely.’
Even Althea could hear the vague note of anxiety in Kyle’s voice. That muffled sound, she decided, was her sister weeping. What had he done to little Selden? A terrible dread rose up in her, a desire to flee this messy domestic life and go back to… what? The ship? That was no escape any longer. She halted where she stood, until the dizzying misery could pass.
‘That was not discipline. It’s brawling, and it has no place in my home. Last night, I was willing to make some allowances for you. It had been a horrible day already, and Althea’s appearance was shocking. But this, inside my own walls, between blood-kin … no. Wintrow’s not a child any more, Kyle. Even if he were, a spanking would not have been the answer. He was not throwing a temper-tantrum, he was trying to make you see his side of things. One doesn’t spank a child for courteously voicing an opinion. Nor does one strike a man for it.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Kyle said flatly. ‘In a few days he’s going to be living aboard a ship, where opinions don’t matter unless they’re mine. He won’t have time to disagree. He won’t even have time to think. On a ship, a hand obeys, at that instant. Wintrow’s just had his first lesson in what happens if he doesn’t.’ In a quieter voice he added, ‘It just may save my son’s life some day.’
Althea heard the scuff of his boots as he walked. ‘Come, get up, Keffria. He’ll come around in a few minutes, and when he does, I don’t want you fussing over him. Don’t encourage him in behaviour I won’t tolerate. If he thinks we’re divided on this, he’ll only fight it the more. And the more he fights it, the more times he’s going to meet the floor.’
‘I hate this,’ Keffria said in a small dull voice. ‘Why does it have to be this way? Why?’
‘It doesn’t,’ her mother said flatly. ‘And it won’t. I tell you this plainly, Kyle Haven, I won’t tolerate it. This family has never treated one another so, and we are not going to start on the day after Ephron’s death. Not in my home.’ Ronica Vestrit left no room for disagreement.
It was the wrong tone to take with Kyle. Althea could have told her that. Setting herself up directly against him would only bring out the worst in him. It did.
‘Fine. As soon as he comes round, I’ll take him down to the ship. He can learn his manners there. Actually, that’s probably for the best anyway. If he learns a bit of the ship in port, he won’t have to scramble so hard when we’re under weigh. And I won’t have to listen to women argue with every order I give him.’
‘Aboard my ship or in my home,’ her mother began, but Kyle cut across her words with words of his own that made Althea both cold and hot with anger.
‘Keffria’s ship. And mine, as I am her husband. What happens aboard the Vivacia is no longer your affair, Ronica. For that matter, I believe by Bingtown laws of inheritance, this house is now
