"I see." He changed the subject. "Nevertheless, you have never been in these parts before, have you?"

"No. Captain Vestrit avoided the Pirate Isles. We passed them by, keeping as easterly a course as we could. He always said it is easier to avoid trouble than to deal with it."

"Ah." Kennit looked past her, to the Marietta also rocking at anchor. Sometimes he missed Sorcor. It would have been handy to have him here for this night's work. Still, one best keeps a secret alone. He recalled abruptly what he had come on deck to do. "On that, I would have to agree with him. So, my lady, if you will excuse me, I need to avoid some trouble tonight. Think of me, until I return."

"I shall." There was puzzlement in her voice. He tapped away from her, his crutch and peg making an odd rhythm as he swung across the deck. He gestured to Ankle to follow him. She came slowly, limping, but she came. When he reached the captain's gig, he told her, "Stay here. I'll take you for a ride." He made motions as he spoke, to be certain his command was clearly conveyed. She looked anxious, but obediently sat down on the deck.

He left her sitting there in darkness. He passed the sailor on anchor watch and acknowledged him with a nod. The sailor bobbed his head but made no comment. Captain Kennit had always done as he pleased on the ship. He even sensed that the crew was more confident now that he had resumed his erratic tours of the ship. It reassured them that all was well with their captain.

He could move almost swiftly now, with a stride and a swing on his crutch, when he chose. It was not without discomfort. Wintrow seemed to think he would build callus as time passed. He hoped so. Sometimes the leather cup that held his stump chafed abominably, and his armpit would ache at the end of the day from the bruising of the crutch's impact.

Moving quietly was more of an effort than moving swiftly, but he managed. He had taken the time to ascertain where Sa'Adar slept every night and he made his way there with confidence. Even in the fitful light of the widely spaced lanterns, he knew his way. When he came to the reclining man, he stood still, looking down on him. Sa'Adar was not asleep, so Kennit made no pretense of waking him. In a very soft voice, he said, "If you would see justice done to Kyle Haven, rise and follow me now. Silently."

In apparent confidence, he turned his back on the man and walked away from him. He did not deign to look back. His keen ears picked up the soft footfalls of the priest following him. He had judged him well. The air of mystery and secrecy drew him to come alone, without waking his comrades. Kennit strode on past other sprawled and sleeping men until he came to two others he had chosen earlier. Dedge slept with his arm thrown protectively over Saylah. She was curled around her own belly. He nudged Dedge twice with the tip of his crutch. He indicated the man's companion as well, and then moved on. Obedient as a good dog, the man nudged the woman awake and silently followed him.

They moved through the mostly sleeping ship. Those who did stir or open an eye were wise enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. Up on the deck once more, Kennit led them into the aftercastle. He stopped at the chamber where Kyle Haven was confined. A curt nod of his head to the map-faces made his will known. Dedge unceremoniously opened the door and entered the chamber. Kyle Haven started up from his untidy bunk. His hair straggled wildly down his shoulders. There was a stink of unwashed flesh and urine in the room, reminiscent of the slave hold. Kennit wrinkled his nose against it. His voice was mild as he stood in the door and suggested, "You should come with us, Captain Haven."

Haven's wild glance circled those who faced him. Sa'Adar was smiling. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he asked hoarsely.

"No." Kennit didn't particularly care if the man believed him or not. He turned to his map-faces. "See that he comes with us, silently." He lifted one eyebrow at Haven as he added, "I don't particularly care what they have to do to ensure the silence. Your cooperation is not essential, but it would be easier for both of us." He turned away without seeing who would comply or how. Sa'Adar annoyed him by hurrying to catch up with him.

"Aren't you going to wake the others? So they can witness this?"

Kennit halted in mid-stride. He didn't bother to face the other man. "I believe I said I wanted silence," he observed.

"But-"

The move came so naturally. He did not even think about doing it. He caught his weight on his good leg, braced a shoulder against the wall and lashed out solidly with the crutch. Sa'Adar caught the blow against his thighs and staggered back. He clutched at the wall, mouth open with pain. Kennit turned away from him. If the companionway had been wider, the pirate reflected, the arc of the blow would have been more effective. He considered this as he continued his swinging stride to the deck. It might be something he should practice.

He halted by the captain's gig and waited for the others to catch up. It pleased him that Haven had kept silent without being gagged or clubbed. Obviously, the man believed in his power. Perhaps he also realized that anyone roused by his cries would be unlikely to help him. Whatever his reasoning, his compliance made everything much easier. Ankle got to her feet as the others came up. Kennit looked at his map-faces. "Fetch the chest. You know which one. Then prepare to launch the boat." The man immediately obeyed him. The others waited silently. No one was stupid enough to ask any questions.

He rode in the bow of the boat. Ankle sat in the stern near the chest, and the two map-faces took one set of oars, the priest and Captain Haven the other. Kennit pointed the way. From time to time, he quietly commanded changes in their course. He guided them between two small islands and into the lee of a third. Only when they were out of sight of both his ships did he finally point toward a fourth island that was their true destination.

Even then, he did not permit the map-faces to land on the beach of Keyhole Island. He had them row on until they came to the mouth of a small bay. Kennit was well aware that it was more than a bay. What appeared to be an island was in fact little more than a wall of forest-topped cliffs, shaped like a near closed horseshoe. The bay filled its interior. One large island and a smaller one dotted the interior bay. The sky was beginning to gray as he directed the rowers wordlessly toward the shore of the larger interior island.

From the water, it looked like any other small island. It had an unremarkable shoreline, and was forested with scrubby trees and coarse brush. Kennit knew that on the other side of the island, there was a good deep-water anchorage, but for his purposes tonight, the rocky beach was sufficient. At his gesture, the map-faces took the boat into shore. He sat in it like a king on a litter as all the others clambered over the side and seized the gunwales to run it up on the shore. They were scarce clear of the waves before Haven predictably let go of the boat and made a run for it. "Get him," Kennit commanded tersely.

A well-aimed rock from one of the map-faces felled him. Wintrow's father scrabbled on the rocky beach, but before he could come to his feet, Sa'Adar was upon him, seizing him by the throat and slamming his head to the ground. Kennit was annoyed. "Bind the captain's hands behind him and bring him. See that the priest doesn't harm him," he ordered his map-faces. To Ankle he said, "Assist me. But only if I say I need it." The girl squinted at him but seemed to understand. She shadowed him.

While the map-faces were prying the two cursing combatants apart and restraining them, Kennit clambered from the gig. The rock and sand of the beach were trickier for both his peg and his crutch than the smooth decks of the Vivacia had been. Stones shifted under his weight and sand gave way unexpectedly. Traversing it was going to be more difficult than he had supposed. He gritted his teeth and tried to make his turtle's pace look measured and deliberate rather than labored. "Well? Follow me!" he snapped at them when they stood watching his progress. "Bring the chest."