No, she’d wait a bit before heading back belowdecks. Might as well enjoy the sunset while she could.
“You look like you could use some of this.”
Sabira looked up to see the Sojourn’s first mate, Valeria Sinderwind, lounging against the mast. The elf woman carried a fat brown bottle with a tan label.
“Tell me that’s not more of that pigswill Bauerson was trying to pass off as decent grog.”
Valeria laughed.
“Old Sully’s? Hardly. This is the good stuff—Aundairian—from Captain Rinar’s personal stock.”
Sabira didn’t need any more encouragement. She held out her hand and Valeria passed the bottle over. Sabira took a long, appreciative draught, letting the fruity vintage cascade over her tongue and down her throat in a torrent of sweetness. She closed her eyes and savored the lingering taste before handing the bottle back reluctantly.
“So, will you be heading back to Khorvaire now?”
Sabira didn’t answer immediately. She’d come to Xen’drik chasing another killer almost a year ago, found him already dead, and had never bothered to leave. The head of the local House Deneith enclave, Greigur d’Deneith, always seemed to have enough work to keep her in coin. Perhaps more important, he didn’t generally have the same problems with her heavy-handed tactics that her superiors back in Karrnath did.
But she’d met Valeria on that first job, and the two had struck up a conversation over drinks at the Leaky Dinghy. They’d been friends ever since, and the feisty sailor wasn’t likely to buy either of those excuses, when they both knew the real reason Sabira had stayed in Stormreach.
Because it was about as far away from Karrnath as it was possible to get and still have any authority as a Marshal. And being a Marshal was all Sabira had left.
“Not quite done with this job, yet,” she said at last, wishing Valeria would offer her another drink and knowing she’d have to refuse if the elf woman did. She was still technically on duty until they got Caldamus back to Sentinels Tower. And while Greigur might tolerate a lot of shortcomings in his Marshals, public drunkenness wasn’t one of them. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back down there.”
Valeria chuckled, shaking her head.
“Always hedge your bets, don’t you? You want us to drop you at the enclave?”
Sabira stood, brushing at the back of her pants.
“Not this time. Tyn’ll be there, and I still owe her money from the last fight at Hammersmith’s.”
“Say no more. The harbor it is.”
Sabira nodded her thanks and then turned and walked away from the sailor’s thoughtful gaze.
When Sabira entered the cabin, Prynn was standing over Caldamus, crossbow in hand. The Marshal was red from his collar to the tips of his over-large ears, and his face was murderous. A quick glance at Caldamus showed the changeling wearing a woman’s visage, a half-elf with hair the color of honey and wide violet eyes.
Prynn cocked his crossbow, heedless of Sabira’s entrance. Caldamus was speaking in a throaty whisper that echoed with longing.
“I would have repudiated my family for you, Dallen, given up the Medani name.…”
“Julanna!” Prynn’s voice was a broken sob, and his hands shook as he aimed his weapon.
Sabira reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing it down and forcing him to look at her, not at the changeling who wore the face of his forbidden love.
“Don’t do it, Marshal,” she said, giving him his own words back, but without rancor. “He’s not worth it.”
She held his gaze for a moment, waiting for the grief she saw there to clear. When it did, she released him and then stepped forward, blocking the changeling from the other Marshal’s vision. She bent to pick up her discarded broadsheet, wadding it into a tight ball as big as her fist as she regarded the changeling.
Predictably, he donned Leoned’s features again, but she was ready for it this time, and it was just another face. She leaned over and grabbed Caldamus roughly by his hair. When he opened his mouth to complain, she shoved the crumpled broadsheet in far enough to gag him. Then she let his head fall back, eliciting a muffled moan as his broken jaw slapped against the mattress.
She looked up at Prynn, who was regarding her warily.
“If I’d been alone, I’d have made sure he stayed unconscious for the whole trip.” She held up a hand to forestall any protest, though she wasn’t sure Prynn would offer one now. Or perhaps she should start calling him ‘Dallen.’ Since all Sentinel Marshals were sons and daughters of Deneith, they generally identified each other by family name as opposed to house name. Given names were reserved for clients and close intimates, though most Marshals had far more of the former than of the latter—theirs was a lonely job that carried them continuously across the Five Nations and beyond, leaving little time for building relationships. And more than that, it was dangerous, and often brought untimely and violent ends to the few relationships a Marshal was able to build.
Which made her think of Leoned, and nothing good could come of that. She forced a roguish grin as she pushed his laughing dark eyes out of her mind and focused on Prynn.
“Now I know you have this thing about harming unarmed prisoners, but I’m assuming you’ll at least consent to keeping him gagged?”
“And hooded,” the other Marshal replied having regained his composure. He pulled out an empty haversack from his pack and tossed it to her.
Sabira’s smile came free and quick this time as she caught the sack out of the air with one hand.
“You know, Prynn, it’s too bad we have to part ways after this job. I might have made a decent partner out of you, after all.”
They came into the harbor a few hours before daybreak, guided by the Stormreach lighthouse and the gigantic statue of the Emperor that rose majestically over the black water, a great beam of light stabbing up into the sky from his outstretched hands. Beyond those beacons, the city itself blazed along the darkened cliffs of Xen’drik’s coastline like a web spun from fallen stars.
Rinar d’Thuranni maneuvered the Sojourn expertly through the crowded harbor and into its berth. The gangplank had barely slapped against the wood of the dock before Sabira and Prynn were on it, taking leave of Valeria and the rest of the crew as they shoved the recalcitrant Caldamus before them.
Even at this hour, the harbor was teeming with ships being loaded and unloaded, mercenaries and scholars readying themselves for dawn expeditions into the interior, and merchants and thieves galore—though it wasn’t always easy to tell the difference between those last two, if indeed there was any.
As the Marshals hurried their prisoner along the pier and up the nearest cliffside ramp to the city’s higher levels, Sabira saw a flash of yellow out of the corner of her eye.
Damn. That busybody, Mari Mosshand, with her loud voice and louder clothes, had seen them. Word of their arrival would travel quickly and reach many interested ears along the way. Maybe they should have gone straight to the House Deneith docks, after all. Well, there was nothing for it now, except to move as quickly as possible.
Sabira led Prynn and Caldamus through the Harbormaster’s Plaza, passing beneath the shadow of the Founder’s Commemorative Fountain, a towering statue of a sahuagin being either crushed or embraced by serpents, depending on who you asked. Even as they hurried toward the lights of the airship tower and the wooden suspension bridge that led to the Marketplace, Sabira was struck yet again by the oddities of Stormreach’s architecture.