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was welcomed by people with little access to trade goods, but who were eager to obtain them.
    “I watched him barter with the chiefs of various villages on the island. The captain had been right—they wanted those goats. Not only for milk and meat, but because owning them would elevate their status across the whole archipelago. What the captain received in return were goods plentiful to the islanders, but in demand elsewhere: sugarcane, pearls, nutmeg, cinnamon ...”
    Those items were still in high demand in Sacoridia and elsewhere, and brought princely sums, creating huge fortunes for several merchant clans. Karigan’s father still traded with the islands, and even pioneered the shipping of ice harvested from Sacoridian ponds and lakes to the tropics, yet it was textiles that had brought him his greatest wealth. She shifted beneath the horse blanket, realizing she’d never heard precisely why and how textiles, and not those other things, had become the core of her father’s business. There was much, she supposed, she had taken for granted.
    “You see,” her father said, “it was the captain’s genius for knowing the markets I wished to emulate, and from then on, I worked hard; became the best cabin boy he’d ever known, and soon he entrusted me to keep his ledgers. He even showed me how to save and invest my share of a prize. Best of all, he continued to take me to market where I watched and learned.”
    He then sighed, his gaze cast downward. “The end came when merchantmen, aware of the Gold Hunter ’s reputation, started hiring protection when traveling the routes Captain Ifior prowled. Our prey, with its extra protection, turned bold, more aggressive, and our battles more pitched. In what would become our final voyage, the captain was slain in a clash with a Tallitrean ship, and he wasn’t the only one we lost. The fighting was vicious, and the Gold Hunter was badly damaged.” He shook his head. “We limped into port, all scorched and nearly dismasted. If it weren’t for Sevano, we wouldn’t have made it home at all.”
    “Sevano?”
    Her father smiled. “He was first mate and took command when the captain died.”
    “I knew he’d sailed with you, but not on—not on—”
    “You didn’t picture him a pirate, eh? No more than me, I suppose.”
    She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. The cargo master was like a part of the family, and was the first to show her how to defend herself from anyone who might do her harm. He was proficient with weapons, but she hadn’t thought it unusual for a cargo master. He must have learned those skills as a mariner.
    “Where Captain Ifior was a father to me,” he said, “Sevano was an elder brother. When fights broke out over whatever cargo remained in the hold, he managed to claim some of it for me, me being the scrawny boy I was back then. No one wanted the bolts of beautiful cloth we’d taken off a Durnesian merchant, especially when there were other goods of more obvious value, so they were mine, and I took them to market. I guess I had an eye for quality, and with my training, I got a very good price.”
    When Karigan’s father fell silent, she could only gape. This was the origin of Clan G’ladheon’s wealth and prestige? Stolen bolts of cloth? This was her father’s first step toward becoming the premier textile merchant of Sacoridia?
    If he hadn’t taken that step, where would she be now? Probably back on Black Island, a fishwife, and constantly pregnant, living in a modest cot already full of squalling children.
    Would she have heard the Rider call?
    She didn’t know.
    It was odd how a single decision, or a chance meeting, could change the course of not only one life, but that of others. If her father had not run away from Black Island, had not learned all he had from Captain Ifior, her vision of herself as a fishwife would likely be all too true. Instead, because of her father’s choices, she’d grown up privileged, very comfortable,