If Magiere and hers had booked passage on a ship all the way to the Suman Empire, she would not likely travel by land in leaving Drist. No, when she left this place, she would intend to board the Cloud Queen. So wherever else she or Léshil went in this city, to whatever purpose, did not matter ... except if it put them in easy reach.
Crouched on the roof, Dänvârfij noticed someone tall, but perhaps not tall enough, dressed in a bright cerulean cloak. The man stepped straight between the front guards and to the front door without challenge. In the last instant as the door closed, something changed, as if the man looked taller next to the door’s closing edge. Then he was gone from sight.
Dänvârfij knew such tricks of posture. She had no certainty, but if what she had glimpsed was true ...
She could never forget that the treacherous greimasg’äh was among the best of her caste. Where had he gone, if that had been he who had entered a moment ago? If he had slipped to the waterfront, then for what reason?
Dänvârfij lingered a moment in indecision before she fled back toward the filthy inn to speak with Fréthfâre. Contingencies needed to be prepared.
In the inn’s room, Én’nish sat listening to Dänvârfij report on Brot’ân’duivé’s possible deception.
Dänvârfij, for all her disrespect of Fréthfâre, seemed certain of her assumptions, and she was not given to groundless speculations. In this, excitement built within Én’nish as she listened.
“I agree this is a temporary stop for our quarry,” Fréthfâre said, sitting bent over in her chair. “They will not continue via land but—”
“They will return to the Cloud Queen,” Dänvârfij finished.
“From what you and Én’nish have described, this hotel where they stay is unbreachable.”
“It is.”
“Then the only option is to abandon the Bashair and take the Cloud Queen. We lay our trap for when our quarry returns to leave port.”
Dänvârfij hesitated, and then nodded. “Agreed, but that ship has a larger crew. Taking it may not—will not—be as certain or clean as taking the Bashair.”
“Of course,” Fréthfâre confirmed flatly. “And?”
After another long pause, Dänvârfij answered with equal coldness. “I will need Én’nish.”
“When do we move?” Én’nish asked too quickly.
“Near mid of night, when most of the crew is asleep,” Dänvârfij answered. “Though waiting that long troubles me. We do not know when the vessel’s captain plans to depart. The others must watch that ship as well for any sign.”
“Agreed,” Fréthfâre said.
For once she did not sound bitter in dealing with Dänvârfij’s overly cautious ways, not that Én’nish blamed the rightful, true Covârleasa for her bitterness. But she sounded pensive, as if she wished to take part in the night’s task.
“Go now,” Fréthfâre continued. “Prepare Rhysís, Eywodan, and Tavithê for infiltration. Tonight, kill the Bashair’s remaining crew, dispose of the bodies, and take the Cloud Queen.”
Anticipation of nightfall, and what would come, quickened Én’nish’s breaths.
Chapter Twenty-three
After nightfall, as Leesil prepared to leave with Magiere, he was still suspicious of Brot’an’s change in attitude. The old assassin seemed far too willing and helpful in devising a plan, though he refused to take an active role—not that Leesil would have wanted him along anyway. Besides, someone had to watch over Wayfarer and now Paolo.
Chap was another matter, and Leesil already had a headache from the dog’s badgering.
“Are the rope and hook packed in easy reach?” Magiere asked.
“Of course.” But Leesil checked again and made certain all other gear was accounted for, stowed away in his pack. Their plan was sound, though there were always risks—more so this time.
Chap rumbled where he lay on a rug near the bed.
“No more!” Leesil growled back. “And you know why you’re staying behind.”
The dog snorted twice in place of huffs or barks, but raised no memory-words in Leesil’s head.
In fact Chap had stopped talking to anyone. That wasn’t a good sign. He was to remain behind to help guard the young ones in case anyone came searching for Paolo. More to the point, tonight’s attempt to rescue a ship full of slaves was going to involve climbing up the hull. They didn’t have time to hoist an oversized wolf in complete silence.
It had taken both Leesil and Magiere to argue this point, with Chap nearly throwing a full tantrum and calling up memory-words that had previously been shouted at him ... and shouting the words back in pieces that suited his own point. It was the most bizarre, irritating, tiresome argument Leesil had ever had. One more reason to give Wynn a kick—or two—for teaching Chap such a trick.
The real problem wasn’t that Chap wanted to come along; he didn’t want anyone going at all.
“You can change now,” Wayfarer said.
The girl laid out two sets of clothes on the bed. Brot’an had somehow borrowed them from Mechaela that afternoon. However, Magiere frowned as she looked over the new attire.
“What makes you think we might be watched or followed?” she asked Brot’an.
“You should take precautions, regardless,” he answered. “This establishment is busy at night with people coming and going. In those clothes—and in following my instructions—you should reach the waterfront unnoticed and then return as someone else to any watchful eyes.”
Magiere frowned, unconvinced.
Leesil would never admit it, but he found Brot’an’s suggestions sound. He began unbuckling his hauberk as he joined Magiere beside the bed. A stylish black velvet tunic, well-tailored breeches, a charcoal cape, a hat, and a polished walking stick awaited him.
Wayfarer politely turned around while he and Magiere began assisting each other in removing their hauberks. Once he was in the tunic and breeches, she helped arrange the cape. Then he sat down on the bed, and she twisted his hair into a tail and tucked it all up under the hat.
Paolo stood by, watching all this with quiet interest. He’d said little all day but had eaten every bite of food offered.
Magiere studied Leesil. “You look like a dandy.”
“That’s the idea,” he answered. “Your turn.”
Her mouth tightened under a scowl.
They’d both agreed not to wear any armor. If things went badly, they’d have to jump overboard and swim for it. And they needed absolute silence while skulking about—a creak of leather or click from hauberk rings or studs could give them away.
“Only down to your shirt and breeches,” Wayfarer told Magiere. “Step into this, and I will fasten it.”
Wayfarer picked up a voluminous skirt of purple silk, and Magiere reluctantly obeyed, glowering the whole time while Wayfarer dressed her. Once the skirt was in place, the girl draped a crimson velvet cape over Magiere’s shoulders and closed the front so that it covered the white shirt. The skirt wasn’t quite long enough, but at least it covered most of Magiere’s high leather boots.
Wayfarer turned for the last item on the bed.
“I’m not wearing that,” Magiere warned through her teeth.
“Oh, yes, you are,” Leesil warned back. “Now sit down!”