He’d seen their kind before—too many times—in childhood.
“Did a boy run past here?” the first man barked, his stubble-shadowed face twisted in suspicion.
Leesil scoffed, as if annoyed. “Boy? Yes, boy. Little beast knock ... food ... over.” He rose with only two skewers in hand and pointed off beyond the trio. “Went there.”
At a mumble from the one without a cudgel, the other two took off down the street. The one giving the orders lingered, looking Leesil over from his slightly slanted amber eyes and white-blond hair to the strange weapons strapped to his thighs.
“Come on,” he barked at the one Chap had cornered. “Stupid runt doubled back toward the docks without knowing it.”
The one at the cutway’s mouth inched away but kept his eyes locked on the large, growling wolf, and then he took off after the other two. The apparent leader looked Leesil over once more and followed the rest. Soon they were gone from sight.
Magiere came out into the street, pulling the boy along by the shoulder of his shirt.
“Why are they after you?” she asked him.
“I jumped ship and swam for shore,” he whispered. “I couldn’t sneak off and take the pier, so I jumped.”
“So you are ... deserter?” Leesil asked, but even then he didn’t believe it.
The boy’s mouth opened, but all he did was shake his head.
Leesil looked down the street. Four armed sailors were chasing a boy for jumping off a ship? The uncomfortable feeling in his gut began to burn with anger.
“Why you on ship if not want be?” he asked as best he could, not certain he wanted the answer. “Where family ... Where you live?”
At the mention of “family,” the boy winced. Leesil waited for Chap, whose eyes fixed on the boy’s face.
—I think—those men—were—slavers— ... —We—should not—get—involved—
Something inside Leesil snapped. “We’re taking him with us.”
Magiere’s brow wrinkled. She glanced once at Chap, likely when he was explaining to her, and she exhaled, shaking her head. But Leesil knew she wouldn’t argue.
—No—we have—enough—problems—
“Those men will find him,” Leesil countered in Belaskian. “The boy hasn’t got a wit in his head the way he’s running around instead of finding a hiding-hole!”
The boy appeared even more leery at Leesil’s talking to a wolf in some strange tongue. He clutched himself in his wet clothes.
“What your name?” Leesil asked.
“Paolo,” the boy whispered.
“Come. You safe.”
Dänvârfij hoped they might turn failure into success this night, but she held that hope at bay. There was much to do. She had been more than relieved when Rhysís had earlier arrived at the shabby inn to report that the Cloud Queen was in dock and Én’nish was watching for their quarry. Soon they would know how to proceed.
Even Fréthfâre was less free with her barbs and focused on their purpose. Hunched in the room’s one chair and obviously in pain, she listened silently to everything Rhysís reported. Perhaps the ex-Covârleasa might for once use her influence to genuinely help.
While waiting, the three of them talked of possible tactics, depending upon what Én’nish reported upon her return, to trap their quarry. Dänvârfij’s relief came when Én’nish finally swung in through the open window.
“They are on land,” she said immediately and looked to Fréthfâre.
Dänvârfij swallowed an irritated reply to this obvious comment; otherwise the small one would still be watching the port.
“Is the traitor still with them?” Fréthfâre asked.
“Yes, but they are only five. The traitor, Magiere, Léshil, Leanâlhâm, and the majay-hì.”
“Not Osha?” Dänvârfij asked.
“No.”
This troubled her. An outcast anmaglâhk was loose, unwatched and unaccounted for, in the world.
“There are issues with their quarters,” Én’nish went on. “It is a large hotel of three stories. I do not know their location inside, and there are iron grates on all windows and armed guards at the entrance. We cannot take the guards without being noticed. Their presence—and the windows—suggests further security within.”
Dänvârfij took a slow breath. If this was the case, their quarry could not be attacked within the building, even if the targets were located before Dänvârfij’s team entered. She glanced at Fréthfâre.
“What do you counsel?”
Fréthfâre hesitated. “Additional surveillance. We must know more, such as their length of stay. One on watch there, one at the port, and one to gather information regarding their ship’s schedule. If the vessel is to remain several days, we have time to study our quarry’s movements and plan their capture in the open.”
“Agreed,” Dänvârfij said, for it was what she had calculated, and that boded well for later cooperation. “Én’nish, watch the hotel. Rhysís, to the port. I will check in with Eywodan and Tavithê, and then gather information about the Cloud Queen.”
One by one they left the filthy inn. While it was clear they would not fulfill their purpose tonight, Dänvârfij took relief in knowing that they would soon enough.
Chap sat on his haunches in one of their luxurious third-floor rooms and could not believe Leesil had brought the boy here. Magiere appeared unsettled but did not argue. Brot’an stood near the window and stared hard at Leesil as if he’d lost his mind.
Perhaps Leesil had.
Only Wayfarer took direct action where the boy was concerned. Upon seeing his dripping clothes, she pulled back the bed’s plush quilt and stripped off the blanket beneath to wrap around Paolo. At least her presence distracted the urchin, for he kept staring at her in wonder.
“We must find him some dry clothes,” Wayfarer said, looking to Magiere.
Those words broke the tense silence. Brot’an began pacing in irritation, while Leesil unwrapped the skewers and held one out. Paolo’s hollow eyes fixed on it, though he hesitated until Wayfarer encouraged him. Then he grabbed it and tore into the meat and vegetables with his teeth like a starving cub.
Wayfarer watched him with a startled expression, but for once she did not appear remotely afraid of a human stranger. Paolo finished every bite off the skewer and licked the stick itself. Leesil shooed Wayfarer up, turned her to face away from the boy, and stripped the blanket off him.
“Take off wet clothes,” he instructed.
Numbly obeying, the boy relaxed slightly once he was wrapped in the warm blanket again. He dropped onto the floor and leaned against the wall beyond the bed’s foot. Wayfarer turned around with another judgmental glance at Leesil, likely about the woman in the foyer.
Now that he and Magiere had taken on the girl as their responsibility, whatever infatuation she had once carried for him had transformed into something else concerning his fidelity to Magiere. But Leesil didn’t notice Wayfarer’s misguided judgment.
He appeared caught in the throes of an overwhelming flash of protection concerning the boy. Chap knew better than to argue with him and looked to Magiere instead.
This boy was not their prime concern, but for the moment Leesil had forced the issue.
—Time for—answers—from—the boy—
Magiere glanced down at him.
—I saw—memories— ... —Men—women—locked in—a ship’s hold—
Magiere poured water from the porcelain pitcher into a waiting cup on the side table and brought it to Paolo. She waited until he finished.