Paragon,

avarice

Within, he found it clean but almost austere. There were only two tables and four benches, all sanded clean as a good ship’s deck. The floors were covered with raked white sand.

He knew of only one liveship that had died. Tinester had perished in a fire that spread swiftly through his cargo holds full of barrels of oil and dry hides, consuming him in a matter of hours.

sybaritic

For every liveship we chase, we go after the next slaver we smell. And we board them, and throw the crew to the serpents, and see the slaves safe back to a town. No offense to your judgment, Cap’n, but I think that if we stop enough slavers and do away with the crews, we’ll gain the respect of the others a lot faster than by capturing a liveship.”

Sometimes, as he lay on the beach, listing to starboard, he could feel the screw worms and barnacles eating into his wood, boring in and chewing deep, but never into his keel nor any of the wizardwood planking. No. That was the beauty of wizardwood; it was impervious to the assault of the sea. The beauty and the eternal condemnation.

Paragon

His gentle tone took her in. She gave a quiet laugh. “I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t curious. Whence comes the wood that can turn to life? What sort of a tree produces it, and where do such trees grow? Are they rare? No, they must be rare. Families go into debt for generations to possess one. Why?”