He noticed that larger ships were docked at the piers’ ends, and one spot at the end of the second pier was open. Captain Bassett shouted orders, and it wasn’t long before the crew threw mooring lines over the side.
Chap, Brot’an, and ... Wayfarer crossed the deck to join Leesil. At the sight of crowds all over the waterfront, the girl clutched Magiere’s arm. When she spotted a massive vessel, so big that it looked close enough to touch, docked at the end of the third pier, she flattened in against Magiere. As Magiere wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders, Leesil looked to that behemoth of a ship.
It was flying yellow and green colors, which he hadn’t ever seen before. Probably from some other nation in the region besides Malourné. The name Bell Tower was painted on the hull’s front end.
“Where does that ship come from?” Brot’an asked a nearby sailor.
Leesil wondered how that vessel’s captain had even gotten permission to dock such a monster.
The sailor glanced the same way and spat in disgust. “Witeny.”
Leesil shrugged at Magiere. Witeny must not be popular with the people of Malourné. But any chance to converse with the crew vanished as men on deck began strapping on weapons and loading crossbows.
“What now?” Brot’an said, watching it all closely.
Leesil was baffled, as the crew had never done this at any other stopover. As soon as the ramp was lowered, two sailors with loaded crossbows jogged down to take positions at the bottom. He noticed the same at every other ship in sight, and he started to get a bad feeling about this place.
Captain Bassett came striding over, and Magiere intercepted him.
“What’s going on?” she asked sharply. “Why are your men arming themselves?”
Bassett scowled, and it wasn’t hard to guess that he didn’t care much for her attitude.
“A brigands’ port,” he answered, “but still worth the stop. Goods traded here are hard to find elsewhere along the coast.”
Leesil didn’t like the sound of that, either.
“We have major cargo to exchange,” the captain went on. “Several days’ worth, so it would be best if we weren’t juggling a big job around passengers.”
Magiere raised her brows and glanced at Leesil. Wayfarer had already tucked in beside him as Chap started grumbling. Again, Leesil understood Numanese better than he could speak it.
They were somewhat politely being told to go ashore for a few days.
Much as the others weren’t happy about it, he wouldn’t argue. They could take care of themselves, and he couldn’t wait to get off this ship. He hoisted up his pack, already prepared to disembark.
“Not ... problem,” he said quickly. “We ... go.”
At Leesil’s assurance, however, the captain nodded and strode off.
Magiere pierced Leesil with an annoyed glance. This was likely a mix of uncertainty in taking Wayfarer into such a seedy-looking place and the captain rushing them off. She wasn’t one to be pushed anywhere.
Brot’an peered around the harbor as if looking for something specific. Wayfarer backed up, crouched down behind Chap, and planted herself so firmly that Leesil wondered whether he’d have to pick her up and carry her off the ship.
Chap looked up at him. —What—advice—for here—from—Wynn—
Leesil unslung his pack. “Hang on.”
He dug inside and pulled out the scant papers Wynn had sent with them. Paging through notes scrawled in Belaskian, he found something and frowned.
“Someplace called Delilah’s. She says it’s expensive but the safest, although ...”
—What is wrong?—
He wasn’t about to read the rest out loud and quickly stuffed the pages into his pack.
“Nothing. Just more boring stuff about the place’s history, nothing of worth.”
Magiere stepped closer. “Nothing ... else?”
Leesil sighed. “Just two short lines. She said when we get to the front desk, whatever Mechaela asks us to do, we have to do it. Apparently it’s the only safe place here.”
“I do not like this,” Brot’an put in.
Frankly, neither did Leesil, but the captain had made it clear he wanted them out of the way—and Leesil wanted off the ship for a few days at least.
“Let’s go and get some rooms. As annoying as Wynn can be, she’s usually right about these things.”
When he looked down, Wayfarer’s breath was coming short and fast. He flipped a hand toward Chap and Magiere.
“You think anyone’s going to bother those two?” he asked, grinning at the girl. “Even if so, who do you think would get the worst of that mistake?”
Chap licked his nose at him and glanced down the ramp.
“You’re not funny,” Magiere growled over her shoulder at Leesil.
“No, indeed,” Brot’an added.
With a wink, Leesil whispered to Wayfarer, “I am so.”
She rolled her pretty eyes, but at least he’d broken her panic, and he held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet and kept her hand in his grasp. Shifting his pack, he started down the ramp into the crowds.
“Don’t let go,” he said.
“I will not,” the girl answered, a bit of a quaver in her voice.
Moments later they wove down the pier between sailors and dockworkers. The crowds grew only worse as they neared the waterfront. The people of various races and occupations—not to mention goats, sheep, and several large dogs on leashes—were almost more than Magiere could navigate out front without stalling again and again.
On their way, they passed a small, odd vessel with its ramp drawn up and Bashair painted on its side. Something about it stuck in Leesil’s head, as if he had seen it before but couldn’t remember where. He held tightly on to Wayfarer’s small hand as Magiere and Chap cut them a path and Brot’an followed behind.
Én’nish crouched on a warehouse roof and watched the port. In two days her team had accomplished much.
Rhysís was positioned a few rooftops to the south. Eywodan and Tavithê remained on the ship to keep it secure. At regular intervals Eywodan would bring a few of the crew on deck to feign duties and maintain an appearance of normality.
Én’nish had no idea what he had said to them, but they obeyed without question. He kept the ramp up, but a number of ships in harbor did so as well, so it did not appear strange. For the most part no one even glanced at the Bashair. Humans here kept to their own, in personal and other matters.
The team had also arranged quarters on land, and Fréthfâre and Dänvârfij were now in a filthy two-story inn at the port’s north end. Eywodan was certain he could manage the vessel with a crew of ten. The team was prepared to either abandon the ship or use it in pursuit, as need be. Fréthfâre and Dänvârfij wanted all possible outcomes covered.
They could not fail again, and this time their quarry would not escape.
Still, confidence in their arrangements did little to quell Én’nish’s urgency. The traitor must die. Léshil and his tainted mate must be taken for their secrets. And she would make Léshil watch his love die, as hers had at his hands. Only then would she take his life.
A large cargo vessel drifted into port and docked at the end of the second pier. Every nerve in Én’nish vibrated once she made out the Numan letters on the hull’s prow.
The Cloud Queen was here.
Én’nish remained crouched, waiting and watching. A light sound reached her ears as Rhysís landed beside her on the rooftop. Neither spoke yet. Eywodan and Tavithê would have seen the ship as well but could not leave their posts.
“I will report to Fréthfâre and Dänvârfij,” Rhysís whispered. “Follow any of our quarry if they come ashore. Learn their final location ... but do not engage them alone.”