a copper fish-head into a bowl and regretted it when he was instantly surrounded by a dozen more beggars, offering him water, cheap little toys made of raffia and worm-ridden wood, a bare outstretched hand, anything in the hope of a coin.
He pushed through with elbows and curses, through the Godsquare and out onto the plaza. Apart from his vigil at the ship when he’d been too occupied with his thoughts to notice much else, it had been some time since he’d been beyond the broad expanse of dressed stone, the confluence between the respectable and the irrepressible. Sailors, merchantmen crew and racks, were everywhere. The sound of Forn’s bells surrounded him, chiming in a curious offbeat harmony that had always been the music of a city that survived on trade from the water, a soothing sound that was at once known, comforting and exotic compared to the cool silence of the palace.
The merchant crews and the racks kept apart mostly, danced around each other, flung insults and, if things got heated, the occasional knife. As Rillen made his way through the throngs, away from Mucking Lane and Van Gast’s ships, down into the delta, he felt the prickle of danger between his shoulders. Alone this time, no men at his command, no pistols ready to cover his back.
Five bridges to the ship. The first two were strong, stone-built with parapets to protect the walker from water-raptors. As he edged farther into the delta, stone gave way to strong planks and then to driftwood tied off with bits of wire and string. Rickety bridges that swayed when you first set foot on them, swung to each step, made the unwary seasick and nervous. Rillen went over them without a qualm.
His mind was too busy, alive with thought, churning and churning, sifting the pearls from the meat. It was perfect, too perfect. A way to rob his father blind and then take over the Yelen too, become the most powerful trader within two hundred miles. Best of all, no suspicion that he was culpable, and revenge on the man who’d killed Arden. Those dastardly racks would sadly die in the attempt. Their spoils would never be found, except by Rillen himself.
Two men lay in the sandy mud, thrashing, punching, cursing up a storm. Rillen side-stepped round them, through the crowd that was betting a small fortune on the outcome, and found the rickety wharf. It curved with the small island, the stilts green and algae-ridden now the tide was out. Someone had planted a line of feather trees along the shore side next to the buildings, maybe hoping to give the wharf shade, or an air of respectability, but the trees had faded against the constant salt-ridden breeze, their delicate plumes yellow and wilted in the faint light from a setting moon. Dawn, and the heat that would drive many of the crush to their beds to sleep, wasn’t far off.
The Lone Queen lay tied up at the end in a blaze of torches against the night, a rare prize among the broken-down fishing smacks and dilapidated ships she rode beside. The wharf was a maze of flickering lights and dark shadows. Rillen found an unobtrusive doorway to watch from.
He watched until the sky lightened with approaching dawn, until a breeze sprang up to chill the sweat from him and the shopkeep shut and locked his door. Yet no Josie appeared, no big, brutal Gan. It didn’t matter now. He’d come here not for that, especially, but to crystallize his plan in his head. It was there, a diamond now, shining perfect and bright behind his eyes. Soon everything would be his.
A scrawny lad wandered down the gangplank, all bright clothes and brighter eyes, his bells a falsetto sound that echoed in the velvet darkness. Rillen approached, noticed the pinch of the boy’s eyes, the eternal distrust that marked a rack as surely as the clothes. He handed over a silver seal and his reply. “For Lord Brimeld, see he gets it.”
The sly, knowing grin was all the answer Rillen needed.
* * *
Van Gast slid in the window of his quarters as dawn was hitting the horizon, silent as a riptide, made sure the door was locked, and flopped on the bed. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to give the guards the slip, but he had and his heart still thumped with the joyous breathlessness of it. He grinned up at the ceiling. Gods, he loved a chase, especially