came into view—lanterns hooded and shutters drawn, but drips and scraps still escaped. A low wide-bottomed craft, the deck mostly enclosed. Figures moved in the shadows of the eaves.
“How many?” Adam asked, treading water beside her.
She listened for heartbeats, felt several. The effort of keeping her head above water distracted her too much for an accurate count.
“At least seven, but probably more.” He swore softly. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me that you’ve faced worse odds before,” she whispered.
Adam snorted. “I have, and usually ended up half-dead.”
“As long as it’s only half.”
Vienh swam closer. “The sentries aren’t patrolling, just standing on the deck. Whoever’s in charge should flog them. If you can be quiet, we’ll go up the anchor chain.”
“You’ve done this before,” Adam said.
“Of course not.” Vienh’s grin flashed in the darkness. “I’m an honest smuggler.” She glided toward the ship, and Isyllt and Adam followed as quietly as they could.
They found the anchor on the far side of the boat—Isyllt could never remember port from starboard—its chain descending from a gap in the railing. The rail was only a yard or so above the water, but the slick, curving hull would be nearly impossible to climb without being heard.
With barely a splash, Vienh hauled herself up the chain and eased over the rail. When no one raised the alarm, Adam followed. Isyllt hooked bare toes into the links, keeping her weight on her legs and steadying herself with her good hand. Rust scraped her palm, tore a fingernail; the chain pinched an already blistered toe and she grimaced. She nearly lost her balance at the top, but Adam caught her arm and heaved her over the railing.
They crouched in the shadows for a moment to catch their breath and listen. The walls were tightly woven wicker on wooden frames, the roof thatched. Shards of light glowed in a golden filigree. Without the distraction of the water, Isyllt felt the sentries nearby, and the cold pulse of her ring. And the bitter chill of the dead.
“Three guards on each side,” she said, “and at least three others inside. And ghosts.”
The diamond throbbed against her chest, tugging gently sideways. After a heartbeat Isyllt realized her ring wasn’t moving, but a new diamond had entered the range of her spell. Another mage was coming.
“Hurry,” she whispered. “We’ll have company soon.”
Something cold brushed her cheek and she started, but it was only a drop of water. A moment later the clouds opened and rain sighed down, rattling against the roof.
“At least we’re already wet,” Adam muttered.
“Somebody’s coming,” hissed Vienh an instant later.
Isyllt wrapped them in shadows just as a man stepped around the corner, humming softly to himself. It didn’t seem these Dai Tranh expected trouble.
Adam’s knife gleamed as it left its sheath and Isyllt caught his wrist. “Don’t kill.” If whoever had her ring knew how to use it, death would alert them immediately.
He nodded, uncoiled from his crouch as the guard turned away. Three strides and he crossed the deck, reversing the knife as he brought it down. The pommel struck the man’s skull with a dull thump and his knees buckled. Adam caught him as he fell, dragged him against the rail.
They slid down the wall facing the bay. The drumming rain covered the slap of wet cloth against flesh. The sentry at the far end of the deck didn’t notice as they slipped inside the first unlocked door. It led to the helm and an open sitting room.
“The cabins will be in the back,” Vienh said, nodding toward the hall on the right. She drew her knife and took a lantern off its hook.
The floor swayed gently beneath them as the wind gusted. Vienh went first, Adam watching their backs. Vasilios’s diamond all but hummed as they drew nearer to its sister-stone. This close, Isyllt could feel the ghosts in her ring moving restlessly in their prison. And another ghost, free of the stone. Deilin.
“Be careful,” she murmured to Vienh. “Your grandmother is here.”
The smuggler cursed under her breath.
Light spilled from under a cabin door, along with a woman’s voice. Vienh’s shoulders stiffened.
“It’s Kaeru.”
The woman spoke in Sivahran, too low for Isyllt to follow. It sounded like a one-sided argument; then she heard Deilin’s death-hollowed voice answer.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
“Kaeru’s talking about a girl, and about how they need someone. Whoever she’s talking to. I can’t hear the response.”
Beyond the door, Isyllt felt the old woman’s heart, still strong, and Deilin’s icy presence. And