"So's my title," Tavi replied. "Do you know of a more competent captain? Or a faster ship?"

Max snorted out another breath and looked at the third person on the dock. "Practicality over all. This is your fault."

The young woman spoke with perfect assurance. "Yes it is," she said calmly. Kitai still wore her long white hair in the fashion of the Horse clan of the Marat people, shaved to the scalp along the sides and left long in a swath over the center of her skull, like the mane of one of the Horse clan's totem mounts. She was dressed in leather riding breeches, a loose white tunic, and duelist's belt bearing two swords. If the cool of the mid-autumn morning disturbed her in her light dress, she showed no signs of it. Her green eyes, upturned at the corners, as all of her people, roamed over the ship alertly, like a cat's, distant and interested at the same time. "Alerans have a great many foolish ideas in their heads. Pound on their skulls often enough, and some of them are bound to fall out eventually."

"Captain?" Tavi called, grinning. "Will your crew be fit to sail at any point today?"

Demos came over to the ship's railing and leaned his forearms on it, staring down at them. "Oh, aye, your Highness," he replied. "Whether or not you'll be on it when it does is another matter entirely."

"What?" Max said. "Demos, you've been paid half the amount of your contract, up front. I gave it to you myself."

"Yes," Demos replied. "I'll be glad to cross the sea with the fleet. I'll be glad to take you and the pretty barbarian girl." Demos pointed a finger at Tavi. "But his Royal Highness there doesn't set foot aboard my ship until he settles up with me."

Max narrowed his eyes. "Your ship's going to look awful funny with a big hole burned straight through it."

"I'll plug it with your fat head," Demos retorted with a wintry smile.

"Max," Tavi said gently. "Captain, may I come aboard to settle accounts?"