Hallow first pick, ever since we both earned our own boats two years ago.
He nods to me, then to his crew. They jump to action, a pair of them using the long poles to direct the keel into the center of the river, where the water is deepest and the current flows true. The third, his scurrier, hops into the scurry, the smaller boat lashed to the side of the keel. With sure hands, she unties the scurry and paddles her way to the docks, careful to stop a few yards out of reach.
While the Lakelander regulations don’t impede our work, they don’t make it easy for us. No Riverman is permitted to set foot on their side of the river, where the border is starkly drawn. We must do our business on the water, or on our side of the bank. There isn’t a patrol at this dock, or even an outpost, but it’s best to take all precautions. Times nowadays are as unpredictable as the spring melts.
The scurrier shouts at the jostling horde of rats on the shore, beginning the back and forth of bargains. She keeps her gun ready, in plain sight of the crowd. Fingers are held up, coins brandished, paper notes from all over the Crownlands flutter on the breeze. She signals to Hallow with her hands, using signs we all know well, and he signals back. After a moment, three Reds jump into the shallows, laden with packs. They look like siblings, reedy teenagers. Probably outrunning conscription in Norta. Merchant class, with parents who love them and enough money to bribe their way to the border and onto a keelboat. Lucky bastards, I think. Usually conscription runners have little to offer, and sometimes they have a Silver patrol hunting them down for good measure. I hate taking on runners and deserters. Hard job, hard river.
Soon Hallow has his passengers, hustled back in the scurry. He must be smuggling a good amount of cargo today, to only take three on board. Our keels are the same size, and I wonder what he’s got in his hold. Hallow isn’t as careful as I am. He lets the river take him where it wills.
He smiles at me with a flourish, showing the golden tooth where a canine incisor should be. I have the same, the other half of a matching set. “Got them all thirsty for you, Captain,” he calls over the constant rush of the river.
I nod to my crew, and the keel moves beneath me, taking Hallow’s place.
My scurrier, Big Ean, is already in his little boat, his broad frame taking up nearly half the scurry.
“Six,” I mutter down to him, leaning over the side. “You know what I prefer.”
He just waves a hand and grunts, pushing off the keel with his paddle. With a few powerful strokes, he maneuvers the scurry to the opposite end of the docks from where Hallow drew his rats.
I stare after him, shading my eyes with a hand. From the center of the river, I can hunt the faces myself, looking for good jobs. Easy river.
A group of four stands out on one end of the dock, wrapped in matching blue cloaks hemmed in mud. I glimpse uniforms on the two women clutching each other and two children. The adults clearly maids from a fine Silver household. They’ll have money certainly, if not something more valuable to trade. Stolen jewels from their master, adorned knives from a mistress.
I signal to Big Ean, gesturing for him to approach them, but he’s already focused on another rat planted in the shallows. Though dozens of the rats beg, bending toward him to plead their case or bargain, he gestures to one figure in the crowd. I squint, trying to assess the rat as best I can from my place at the prow.
Tall, hooded in a filthy coat too big for her frame. It nearly trails on the ragged docks. Nearly.
The coat doesn’t quite hide the polished leather boots, well fitted and well made.
My jaw tightens as a real gold coin flashes between her fingers, catching the dawn light.
Someone bumps her shoulder hard, fighting for Big Ean’s attention, but she doesn’t budge, unmoved. She says something to Big Ean that I can’t hear.
Big Ean looks back to me. She’ll pay ten times the rate, in gold, he signals.
Take her, I signal back with ease.
With a wave of his hand, he passes on the message and she leaps from the dock, landing hip deep