In the previous weeks, she had imagined their wedding night a hundred ways. She had dreamed him bold, and then boyishly shy, gentle, and hesitant, or perhaps rakishly bawdy or even demanding of her. Every possibility had warmed her with desire and chased sleep from her bed. Well. It was only a matter of hours now before she would find out. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The smile on her face surprised her. She tilted her head and studied her own reflection. Alise Kincarron, smiling on her wedding day—who would ever have imagined it?
“Alise?” Her father stood at the door. She turned to him in surprise and felt an odd lurch of her heart at the soft, sad smile he wore. “Darling, it’s time to come downstairs. The carriage is waiting for us.”
SWARGE STOOD STIFFLY in the small galley. At a nod from his captain, he sat down. His big, rough hands rested lightly on the edge of the table. Leftrin sat down opposite him with a sigh. It had been a long day; no, it had been a long three months.
The secrecy the project demanded had tripled the work involved. Leftrin had not dared to move the log; towing it down the river to a better place to work on it was not an option. Any passing vessel would have recognized what he had. So the work of cutting the log into usable lengths and sections had all had to be done right there, in the mud and brush of the riverbank.
Tonight it was finished. The wizardwood log was gone; the small scraps that remained had been stowed as dunnage in Tarman’s holds. Outside on the deck, the rest of the crew was celebrating. And in light of what they’d conspired to do, Leftrin had decided it would be best if all of them made a fresh commitment to Tarman. All the rest of them had signed the ship’s papers. Only Swarge remained. Tomorrow, they’d relaunch Tarman and return to Trehaug to drop off the carefully selected and discreet woodworkers who had served them so well. And afterward, they would go back to their regular run on the river. But for now, they celebrated the completion of a massive project. It was finished, and Leftrin found he had no regrets.
A bottle of rum and several small glasses occupied the center of the table. Two of them weighted down a scroll. A bottle of ink and a quill rested beside it. One more signature, and Tarman would be secure. Leftrin nodded to himself as he studied the riverman opposite him. Streaks of dried mud and tar clung to the tillerman’s rough shirt. His thick fingernails were packed with silvery sawdust, and there was a stripe of dirt on his jaw where he’d probably scratched his face earlier.
Leftrin smiled to himself. He was probably just as grubby as the tillerman. It had been a long, hard day’s work, and it was labor of a kind neither one of them was accustomed to. It was coming to a close now, and Swarge had more than proven himself. He had been willing to join Leftrin’s little conspiracy and had done more than his share without complaint. It was one of the things that Leftrin liked about the man. Time to let him know that. “You don’t complain. You don’t whine, and you don’t find fault when something just plain goes wrong. You jump in and do your best to fix the situation. You’re loyal and you’re discreet. And that’s why I want to keep you on board.”
Swarge glanced at the small glasses and Leftrin got the message. He uncorked the bottle and dolloped out small measures for both of them. “Best clean your hands before you eat or drink. That stuff can be poisonous,” he advised his tillerman. Swarge nodded and carefully wiped his hands down the front of his shirt. Then they both drank before Swarge responded.
“Forever. I heard from the others that’s what this is about. You’re asking me to sign on and stay aboard Tarman forever. Until I die.”
“That’s right,” Leftrin confirmed. “And I hoped they mentioned that your wages will go up as well. With our new hull design we’re not going to need as large a crew as we’ve shipped in the past. But I’ll budget the same for pay, and every sailor aboard will get an equal share of it. That has to sound good, doesn’t it?”
Swarge bobbed a nod at him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Rest of my life is a long time, Cap.”
Leftrin laughed aloud. “Sa’s blood, Swarge, you been with Tarman for ten years already. For a Rain Wild man, that’s half of forever already. So what’s the problem with signing on permanent? Benefits us both. I know I got a good tillerman for as long as Tarman floats. And you know that no one is ever going to decide you’re too old to work and put you ashore without a penny. You sign this, it binds my heir as well as me. You give me your word on this, you sign the paper with me, and I promise that as long as you live, Tarman and I will take care of you. Swarge, what else you got besides this boat?”