Quote:wo days ago she had spotted the Ophelia in the harbor. The sight of the old liveship's silvery hull and smiling figurehead had moved her with a depth that shocked her.

Quote:The Ophelia was one of the oldest liveships, the first generation as it were. She was a blowzy old cog, bawdy and lewd when the mood took her, and patrician and commanding at other times. A willful lady was the kindest way she had ever heard Ophelia described.

Quote: "You lied to my captain." The Ophelia had a husky, courtesan's voice, sweet as dark honey. "Boy," she added belatedly. She gave Althea a sideways glance. Ophelia, like many figureheads of her day, had been arrayed upon the beakhead of the ship, rather than positioned below the bowsprit. The glance she gave Althea over her bare and ample shoulder was an arch warning against lying.

Oh, and below last section was a note about her being a gambler.

Quote: "Why bother? I think you already know it." Althea prayed it was no more than her sex. If that was all Ophelia knew and all she could reveal, then she was still relatively safe. Violence aboard a liveship was not unheard of, but it was rare. The emotions that radiated from violence were too unsettling to the ship. Most of the ships themselves disdained violence, although it was rumored that the Shaw had a mean streak, and had once even called for the flogging of an incompetent hand who'd spilled paint on him. But the Ophelia, for all her blowzy airs, was a lady, and a kind-hearted one as well. Althea doubted she would be raped aboard such a ship, though the rough courtship of a sailor attempting to be gallant could be almost as fierce and bruising. Consider Brashen, for instance, she thought to herself, and then she wished she hadn't. Lately he popped into her mind at unguarded moments. She probably should have hunted him down in Candletown and bid him good-bye. That was all she was missing, putting a final close to things. Above all, she should never have let him have the last word.

"Well, you are right, I do know at least a part of it." The Ophelia laughed huskily. Her lips were painted scarlet, her own conceit. Her teeth were very white when she laughed. She lowered both her eyelashes and her voice as she said more softly, "And right now I'm the only one that knows it. As I'm sure you'd like it to remain."

"As I am sure it will," Althea replied sweetly, shaking the dice box soundly. "For a lady so grand as yourself could never be so petty as to give away another's secret."

"No?" She smiled with a corner of her mouth. "Do you not think I have a duty to reveal to my captain that one of his hands is not what he thinks him to be?"

Quote:Ophelia asked her with a throaty chuckle. The buxom
figurehead gave her a knowing glance over her bared shoulder.

Quote:It was the first time Althea had had a clear look at the damage. The tarry fireballs had clung to her fingers as they burned her. It had licked up the inside of Ophelia's left wrist. Her patrician hands looked like those of a scrub maid.

Quote:Ophelia smiled nervously. Then a wondering look came into her eyes. "If your work on my hands is successful, then perhaps something could be done about my hair as well." She lifted a hand to touch the long loose curls of her mane. "This style is so dated. I have often thought that if I could contrive ringlets around my face and ..."
"Oh, Ophelia." Tomie groaned as the others laughed.
Amber had kept possession of one of Ophelia's hands. Her head was still bent over it, examining the damage. "I may have great difficulty in matching the stain. Never have I seen stain that mimics so well the color of flesh without obscuring the grain of the wood. Someone told me that a liveship creates its own colors as it awakens." She met Ophelia's eyes without selfconsciousness as she asked, "Will that happen again, if I have to plane so deep that I expose uncolored wood?"

Quote:Grag smiled understandingly. "In your position, I'm sure I would be as preoccupied. I continue to ask every ship that comes into the harbor for word of her. I'm afraid that is as much as I can do right now. Next month, when we sail again to Jamaillia, I will seek word from every ship I encounter."
"Thank you," she told him warmly. Then, as his look became too tender, she distracted him. "I have missed Ophelia. If I had not promised Mother that I would be more conservative in my behavior, I would have come calling on her. The only time I ventured down there, the Satrap's tariff guards challenged me. For the sake of propriety, I did not make an issue of it." She sighed, then changed her tone. "So Amber was able to repair Ophelia's hands."
Grag leaned back in his chair. He squinted his eyes in the afternoon
sunlight. "More than repair. She had to reshape them as a whole to keep the more slender fingers proportional. When Ophelia expressed concern for the scraps of wizardwood that had to be removed, Amber made a practice of saving every scrap in a special box. They never left the fore-deck. The loss of them seemed very threatening to Ophelia; I was surprised that someone not of Bingtown stock could be so perceptive to the ship's distress. Now she has even gone one step further. After consulting with Ophelia, she has gained my father's permission to refashion the larger scraps into a bracelet for the ship. She will cut the pieces into fine rods and bars and then peg them together. 'No other liveship in the harbor possesses such jewelry, made not only by a prominent artist but carved of her own wizardwood.' Ophelia is ecstatic."