They could not risk throwing the hook over the rail; silence in that was impossible. In addition, should any sailor come along, this way he would not see a hook and line or hear Rhysís until too late.
Once he was up and over the rail, he set the hook and dropped the rope over the side. Én’nish climbed up to join him. Tavithê went next, followed by Dänvârfij, who had a stiletto already clenched in her teeth. The last to follow was Eywodan, as Dänvârfij retrieved her bone knife from Rhysís.
After that they made no effort to remain unseen, and events sped up quickly as they came out into the open on both sides of the aftcastle. A sailor at the prow on the forecastle spotted them first and shouted. Rhysís ignored the man and aimed his bow up along the main mast.
As soon as a sailor above looked over the crow’s nest wall, Rhysís’s bowstring thrummed.
Dänvârfij was already running.
The first crewman who had shouted never reached the main deck. Intercepting him, Dänvârfij drove her stiletto inside his guard and through the hollow of his throat, and then watched him drop. From the top of the steep forecastle steps, she looked away from his corpse to survey a silent ship.
Only the forest gray forms of her own team moved among motionless human bodies lying upon the deck. All of the anmaglâhk were barely visible by the light of two hanging lanterns, and the smallest was the first to reach the portside door below the aftcastle.
Én’nish stood waiting, flattened against the wall. As the door opened, voices could be heard before anyone came out.
“I’m telling ya, I heard Ethan shout,” one said.
Two disheveled men stepped out, and Én’nish let them both fully emerge.
She sidestepped in around the open door and slashed open the second man’s throat. As the first one turned at the wet sound, Eywodan appeared from the door’s other side and struck the man’s temple.
The crewman’s eyes rolled up, and his back hit the deck. Such a strike would render him half-unconscious, and Én’nish, with her wet blade still in hand, was instantly on top of him.
Dänvârfij quickly closed, but Eywodan was quicker.
“Bithna!” he hissed at Én’nish.
The crewman’s eyes fluttered as Én’nish’s slash halted with her blade merely hovering near his throat.
“Is your captain here?” Dänvârfij demanded.
The man’s eyes finally widened. He looked up at her, and then at Eywodan, and then at Én’nish, whose half-covered face was barely a forearm’s length above his.
“In ... in his cabin,” the man answered.
Dänvârfij scanned the deck and glanced back to see Én’nish clamp her free hand over the man’s mouth and thrust her blade between his ribs.
No more footsteps carried from below, and the deck was theirs.
All of the team gathered around Dänvârfij.
“Rhysís, Eywodan, and Tavithê, go below and finish this,” she instructed. “Lock the captain in his quarters. Én’nish and I will stand watch here to take any crewman who might return from onshore.”
All three men slipped through the door to the stairs. Half the crew would be kept alive to rotate up here for the illusion of normality. But Én’nish, who glared in hungry rebellion once they were alone, clearly wanted to take part in the killing below.
For a moment Dänvârfij thought Én’nish might argue, even now that they were halfway to completing their purpose.
Én’nish finally dropped her gaze and looked away.
When Brot’ân’duivé could no longer hear Léshil’s and Magiere’s steps on the outer stairs, he turned to Chap.
“I am going down for a moment. Keep watch on the young ones.”
Snarling as expected, the majay-hì jumped to his feet, and Wayfarer flinched, as did Paolo. Brot’ân’duivé merely waited, knowing he would never hear Chap’s argument in his own thoughts.
“He says you ... you are not ... going anywhere,” Wayfarer related, visibly embarrassed or perhaps shocked, as she swallowed hard. Perhaps she had not repeated Chap’s exact words.
Brot’ân’duivé responded directly to the adversarial majay-hì. “Stay with the young ones, and I will return in moments. Magiere and Léshil could not be stopped, so they must be guarded without their knowledge.”
Chap fell silent, and his flattened ears rose slightly.
Brot’ân’duivé took that moment of stunned confusion to slip out. Quickly descending the stairs to the last landing above the entryway, he hovered around the stairway’s turn to watch below.
Magiere stood with her back to him, and somewhere off to her right was the front counter. Brot’ân’duivé could not hear whether their olive-skinned host was down there as well, but Magiere remained, perhaps counting under her breath.
Léshil was nowhere in sight and had likely already left, beginning the night’s plan. Magiere suddenly stepped toward the front door in her crimson cape. Her long gait did not match the look of an elite woman seeking a night’s pleasure.
As soon as she was gone, Brot’ân’duivé descended and found Mechaela on duty behind the counter. It would seem the man rarely slept, for he had been there at dawn that morning.
“I need another room, possibly for half the night, in the most secure part of the inn,” Brot’ân’duivé said. “Cost is irrelevant.”
He felt no pride or shame at theft but had put his skill to use several times in Calm Seatt. The pouch he carried held more than sufficient coins, though he had kept this information, like all else, to himself unless otherwise necessary.
Mechaela tilted his head in puzzlement. “I assure you, the rooms you were given are quite secure.”
“I need to leave the young woman and a boy behind tonight. I want no one outside of the staff to have any chance of knowing where they are. Another room, please ... now.”
Mechaela hesitated and then curled a finger, motioning Brot’ân’duivé around the counter. The host gestured toward a set of small bells below the counter.
“This way,” he said, and stepped to the door at the counter’s far end.
Brot’ân’duivé followed as Mechaela opened the door and passed through into a dim, plush hallway. Almost immediately Mechaela turned aside to open the first door to his right. Brot’ân’duivé entered a bedroom with paintings of beautiful but scantily clad women on the walls.
“These rooms are for patrons who require extra privacy,” Mechaela said as he stepped near the bed. “I seldom need to ... intervene for those who work here, but it has happened.”
He pinched a dangling end of a ribbon near the headboard that tied back one corner of the bed’s canopy curtain. The ribbon slid without untying the curtain and retracted when released.
Out of the room’s doorway, Brot’ân’duivé heard a small bell ring lightly.
“Should one of our employees require assistance,” Mechaela explained, “I can be inside the room before the bell fades. Other interior guards will follow quickly.” He paused. “I assume this is safe enough for your need?”
“You will be at the desk all night?”
“Yes.”
Brot’ân’duivé nodded and pulled out his pouch.
Chap bristled as he waited for Brot’an’s return. The old assassin had counted on his being unwilling to leave Wayfarer and Paolo alone. Brot’an had something in mind and knew Chap would wait, caught unaware and baffled.
Chap hated being played so easily.