"There's nothing you can do," he pointed out. He suddenly felt mature for voicing that thought. "There's nothing either of us can do."

"That is fatalistic twaddle," Amber declared angrily. "There's a lot we can do. If nothing else, I swear I will stand here and fight them."

"You wouldn't win," Paragon insisted. "It would be stupid to fight, knowing you couldn't win."

"That's as may be," Amber replied. "I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want to wait for it to be that desperate. I want to act before they do. Paragon. We need help. We need someone who will speak to the Bingtown Traders' Council for us."

"Can't you?"

"You know I can't. Only an Old Trader can attend those meetings, let alone speak. We need someone who can go to them and convince them they should forbid the Ludlucks to do this."

"Who?"

Amber's voice was small. "I had hoped you knew someone who would speak for you."

Paragon was silent for a time. Then he laughed harshly. "No one will speak for me. This is a stupid effort, Amber. Think about it. Not even my own family cares for me. I know what they say about me. I am a killer. Moreover, it's true, isn't it? All hands lost. I rolled and drowned them all, and not just once. The Ludlucks are right, Amber. They should sell me to be chopped up." Despair washed over him, colder and deeper than any storm wave. "I'd like to be dead," he declared. "I'd just like to stop."

"You don't mean that," Amber said softly. He could hear in her voice that she knew he did.

"Would you do me a favor?" he asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Kill me before they can."

He heard the soft intake of her breath. "I… No. I couldn't."

"If you knew they were coming to chop me up, you could. I will tell you the only sure way. You have to set fire to me. Not just in one place, but many, to make sure they cannot put it out and save me. If you gathered dry wood, a little each day, and put it in piles in my hold…"