“Sevano?”

Her father smiled. “He was first mate and took command when the captain died.”

“I knew he’d sailed with you, but not on—not on—”

“You didn’t picture him a pirate, eh? No more than me, I suppose.”

She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. The cargo master was like a part of the family, and was the first to show her how to defend herself from anyone who might do her harm. He was proficient with weapons, but she hadn’t thought it unusual for a cargo master. He must have learned those skills as a mariner.

“Where Captain Ifior was a father to me,” he said, “Sevano was an elder brother. When fights broke out over whatever cargo remained in the hold, he managed to claim some of it for me, me being the scrawny boy I was back then. No one wanted the bolts of beautiful cloth we’d taken off a Durnesian merchant, especially when there were other goods of more obvious value, so they were mine, and I took them to market. I guess I had an eye for quality, and with my training, I got a very good price.”

When Karigan’s father fell silent, she could only gape. This was the origin of Clan G’ladheon’s wealth and prestige? Stolen bolts of cloth? This was her father’s first step toward becoming the premier textile merchant of Sacoridia?

If he hadn’t taken that step, where would she be now? Probably back on Black Island, a fishwife, and constantly pregnant, living in a modest cot already full of squalling children.

Would she have heard the Rider call?

She didn’t know.

It was odd how a single decision, or a chance meeting, could change the course of not only one life, but that of others. If her father had not run away from Black Island, had not learned all he had from Captain Ifior, her vision of herself as a fishwife would likely be all too true. Instead, because of her father’s choices, she’d grown up privileged, very comfortable, and well-educated. In light of all that, it was difficult for her to stay angry at him for being a cabin boy on the Gold Hunter. She still didn’t approve of piracy, but she couldn’t blame him.

Condor shook his head, ears and mane flopping. He gave her a sleepy look, then turned inward, toward the depths of his stall.

“There is shame in being involved with piracy,” her father said in a quiet voice. “It is wrong, and I see it now with maturity, especially now that I wear the cloak of a merchant. Ironically, I deplore those who would attack my caravans, or ships I’ve invested in. They are criminals, as I once was a criminal.

“A part of me wonders if I would have achieved success without all I learned from my association with the Gold Hunter. I think I probably would have—I am a persistent sort, and determined to succeed. But it would have taken longer, and the success might be less.” He smiled. “I was motivated to achieve because I knew a beautiful girl waited for me back on the island. I would not take her as my wife until I’d proven myself a man—shown that I could support her, and support her well. She deserved no less. I vowed she would not be a poor fisherman’s wife. The Gold Hunter allowed me to bring her to Corsa and marry her all that much sooner. I cannot say what would have happened if I’d chosen some other path, but your mother and I, we had dreams ...

“In any case,” he said more brusquely, “piracy is not an admirable thing. And ... and I was ashamed of what you would think. Seeing disappointment in your eyes when you confronted me earlier—that was the hardest thing I’ve faced in a long while.”

“If only you had told me sooner.”

“I believed you were too young to understand the implications.” He paused. “I know now you are not, but I fear I can’t help but still see you as my little girl in her party dress and ribbons, with scraped elbows.”

Karigan thought as much.

“You’re frowning,” he said. “Be careful or your face will freeze that way.”

She only screwed up her face more.

“Well, if that is all, perhaps we should retire to our beds. I didn’t work so hard for so many years for my daughter to be sleeping in the stable.” He rose and watched her.

The wind had quieted. Karigan wondered if it was a lull in the storm, or if it was actually dying out. “There’s one more thing,” she said.

Her father stood there, just waiting.

Before she lost her nerve, she said, “When I passed through Rivertown last fall, I met a friend of yours—Silva Early. In fact, I stayed at her ... her establishment, the Golden Rudder.”

The blood drained from Stevic G’ladheon’s face.

MOONSTONE

Several horses, including Condor, peered from their stalls, watching father and daughter like spectators at a tournament. The silence was excruciating.

Finally her father spoke. “What were you doing at the Golden Rudder?”

“My Rider-in-training, Fergal, almost drowned in the river during our crossing.” That was definitely the short version of the story. “Cetchum brought me to the Golden Rudder after. I didn’t know what kind of place it was. Not at first.”

“Cetchum,” her father murmured. The ferry master would, of course, be well known to him. Cetchum’s wife was a maid at the brothel, so he’d seen it only as natural to take Karigan there.

“I was surprised to learn from Silva,” Karigan continued, her voice trembling, “that my father was a favored patron.” Incensed and betrayed was more like it.

He placed his hands on his hips and turned away, gazing into the dark. When he faced her again, he replied, “I said there were things I’d never explain, and certainly not to my daughter.”