Free Point of Knives by Melissa Scott Page B

to be the captain’s cabin. Young Steen trailed behind them, followed by a woman his own age in a well-tailored gown, and one of the other women turned back to take his hand.
    “Just say the word, and we’ll be there. All the witnesses you need.”
    “Thank you, Berla. Father would appreciate it.” Steen caught Eslingen’s eye and nodded, but said nothing until the last of the group was on the gangway, and only the well-dressed woman and the girl remained behind. “Eslingen. What brings you here?”
    “I wanted to talk to you about your father’s cargo,” Eslignen said, with a wary glance at the woman at Steen’s shoulder. “I just had a few questions, if you had a moment.”
    “I’ll take my leave, then,” the woman said. From the look of her, she was a well-off merchant—or, more likely, a merchant’s daughter, Eslingen thought. She looked much of an age with Steen, and women that young didn’t own their own combines, worked instead for their mothers and aunts. “But—give it some thought, Steen, will you?”
    “I certainly will,” Steen said, and bowed over her hand as though he’d been a gentleman. She grinned at that, not at all displeased, and made her way down the gangway.
    Steen looked at Eslingen. “Jesine Hardelet,” he said. “One of the owners.”
    “Ah.” Eslingen kept his face impassive. That put a different complexion on her visit, and on Steen’s graces: she was of an age to be starting a family, and what better way to bind Steen to the family business than to propose he sire a child for her? “And the rest were your witnesses?”
    Steen nodded. “Fifteen today, and each of them can bring two or three fellows. Surely that will be enough.”
    “One would hope,” Eslingen said, though, given the look of the group, he rather doubted it. Mostly men, mostly sailors, and none of the women were of a class to stand up to van Duiren’s documents. And of course those would be Old Steen’s friends and equals, but they wouldn’t stand against a signed constract.
    “But that’s neither here nor there,” Steen said. “I’ve something to tell you, too.” He whistled through his teeth and the girl snapped to attention. “Essi, keep the watch. I’m not to be interrupted unless it’s serious.”
    “Yes, captain,” the girl answered, and perched on a barrel by the gangway.
    “Come within,” Young Steen said, and Eslingen followed him into the cabin.
    It was bigger than he’d expected, with a front room like a parlor and a door that obviously led to the captain’s private quarters. The parlor was dominated by a chart table, and a rack of cubbies was chained to the rear wall. Thick glass sun-stealers caught and magnified the light from the deck above, and a pair of bracket-lanterns were lit as well, the sweet smell of the oil not quite enough to drown out the smell of tar. Steen waved him to a stool, and took another one himself, leaning one elbow on the chart table.
    “What did you want with me?” Steen said.
    “I came to see if you’d thought of any place your father might have hidden his chest of gold, since it seems clear Dame van Duiren hasn’t found it,” Eslingen answered. “Or, failing that, where he might have left some key to finding it.”
    Steen grinned. “Dad was never much for treasure maps.”
    “And here I thought they were de rigeur,” Eslingen said.
    “It’s not always like the broadsheets,” Steen answered. “Dad liked keeping his secrets secret.”
    Eslingen’s heart sank. If Old Steen hadn’t kept any record of what he’d done with his treasure, they were beaten before they’d started. Rathe would figure it out, he told himself, and lifted an eyebrow. “Surely he had to take into account the possibility that something might happen to him,” he said. “He wouldn’t have wanted the gold to be lost entirely.”
    “You’d think not,” Steen answered. “But it would be in his goods if there was anything, and—she’s got them. But that’s