“And he stumbled into me. I stumbled into my father, there was some scrambling as we all tried to save him from falling overboard. But he fell in the water. I jumped after him. I know Grinwoody doesn’t swim, so though he offered, it would have been pointless. It was my father’s own fault that he’d dismissed his Blackguards, insisted on them going to bed. Otherwise he might have been saved easily. Instead, I pulled my father out of the water, and tried to light a signal. But instead of being saved by you, we were pulled out by Captain Gunner. He said some prayers to the sea, and threw me back in afterward.”

“But you saw that my son was alive?” Andross was intense, seemingly honestly disbelieving.

“Yes, sir. I’m certain of it. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten ransom demands. Gunner recognized the Prism, sir.”

The White nodded. “Gavin has mentioned this pirate before. Said he’s quite the character, but not quite sailing with a full crew, mentally, as it were.”

“Grinwoody,” Andross barked, turning around in his seat. “I thought you said the Prism was unconscious when he plunged into the waves.”

Grinwoody fell prostrate. “My lord, mercy. I—I thought he’d hit his head on the way down. I believed he had already sank before the boy went after him. My lord master, I am so sorry. I have shamed myself and you.”

A silence. Cards turning. “No,” Andross said. “The shame is mine. I should never have given up on my son. In this year when I have lost so much…” He trailed off as if overwhelmed with emotion. Then he put his hand to his heart and made the sign of the four and the three. “Orholam be praised.” He actually sounded sincere. Perhaps the old man really did love Gavin in his own way.

The words were echoed around the table.

Andross continued before anyone could interject. “I should never have taken a slave’s word on something so important. I’ll punish him appropriately later. Kip! You have saved my son twice, and brought me news of his life. You warm an old man’s heart. I shall have to reward you properly.”

“He’s my father. No reward is necessary,” Kip said.

“I insist. Come to my quarters later. Now you’re excused,” Andross Guile said.

The rest of them just watched as Kip struggled with the dismissal. He didn’t want to leave, but he clearly saw no way around it. He bowed after a moment, and left.

Karris was certain she’d just seen one or the other of them bought off, but she wasn’t sure whom. Maybe both. The sheer gall of them to do it in front of the whole Spectrum. And the sheer brilliance, to be able to get away with it.

If it had thrown Andross Guile off, though, he didn’t show it. “Well, this is marvelous. There will be some real challenges in getting my son back before anyone else does, but I think we can overcome those difficulties.”

As Kip stepped out, Arys Sub-red came in the door, heavily pregnant and winded.

“What are we talking about?” she asked, moving past Karris to her seat. She didn’t have her youngest child with her this time, but she did reek of luxin and sex. Karris was no naïf, everyone knew that greens, reds, and sub-reds most of all liked to mix drafting and sex. It heightened the sensations and the emotions. Karris didn’t care who Arys bedded, but coming to a Spectrum meeting sex-flushed and stinking wasn’t something Arys would have done when she was in full control of her faculties.

The strain of rule kills us all.

Karris had thought that Arys had at least two years left, but now she wasn’t so sure. Sub-reds tended to get territorial and fiercely, passionately protective of those they loved as they reached the end of their natural spans. And, of course, libidinous, but a woman in Arys’s position shouldn’t be showing that. Not publicly.

Andross pointedly looked at Arys, and then ignored her.

Delara Orange said, “If the Color Prince ransoms the Prism instead of us, we’ll be destroyed. It will utterly cripple morale. They would hold him hostage as guarantee that we wouldn’t attack, and then—”

“No, no, no,” Andross said. “Do you not understand what the sea chariots mean?”

Blank looks. Andross smirked. He loved it when his superior intelligence found such undeniable expression.

“How is a pirate to hide for long from us? How is he to fight us? We dominate the seas, even if no one knows it yet.”

“If we can dominate the seas, why don’t we go after the Color Prince directly?” Delara asked.

“Because he’s on land,” Andross said.

“I’m not stupid, thank you very much. I mean, if the seas are ours, why not land our men in whatever place is most advantageous? Behind enemy lines, perhaps, and—”

“Have you even looked at the sea chariots? We’d burn out a thousand drafters trying to move a single transport ship. We can deny the seas to others; we can search the seas for my son, and with grenadoes and other arms, we can sink the Color Prince’s pirate mercenaries, but until we rebuild our own fleets, our armies can only approach by land.”

“So they don’t really change anything,” Klytos Blue said.

“Other than assuring that we can’t be attacked unawares and that we will know exactly where the Color Prince is at all times weeks before he knows where our armies are, yes, I suppose they change nothing,” Andross said, dripping contempt. “What matters for the moment is that Gavin will be ours before long. We can’t guarantee we get him alive, of course. But no one else will get him instead.”

And there was the serpent in him. That what he said was true didn’t make it any more comforting. The White would have said the same, but she would have spoken to the emotions of the fact first, the thought of losing Gavin through some accident or through some pirate’s fury.

But then all of what she’d been hearing hit Karris. Gavin was alive. Gavin was alive. The tears of relief blindsided her, and then blinded her. She didn’t want to cry in front of Andross Guile, didn’t want to show weakness in front of the Spectrum, but a single sob escaped her lips.

Everyone on the Spectrum looked at her, and Karris had to bow her head and clamp her eyes shut to avoid breaking down entirely.

She should keep her eyes open. She was a spy now. She should be paying attention. She should be of use.

Alive. It was hope and light and life and mercy. It was Orholam himself, reaching through the gathering darkness.

For once, Andross Guile didn’t bludgeon Karris for her weakness. Instead, he said, “Let us all go and send out our scouts and our messages and report to our satraps about this news. But most of all, let us all pray. For without Orholam’s hand, our situation is dire indeed. Let us meet again soon, but for today, I think we’ve seen and said enough. High Lady Pullawr?”

Let us pray? This was Andross Guile saying this? How shaken was he? The man made a mock of the faith at every chance.

The White made the sign of the four and the three, and the rest of the Spectrum followed her lead. They lay their hands, palms open, on the table in front of them, receptive, open to the light, open to truth. “Father of Lights, Holy One, Orholam.” She aspirated the h, giving it the old pronunciation. “Righteous Father, Strong Tower of Kalonne, All-Merciful One, Comforter of the Downtrodden, Guardian of Orphans, Good Teacher, Deliverer, Unfailing Defender, Savior, Warrior of Justice, Supreme Magistrate, Worthy of Honor, Mighty to Save, Bright Morning Star, Fire in the Night, Hope of the Last Tribe, Indefatigable Healer, Restorer of the Broken, Father, King, and God.”