The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,157

stop between points A and B.

Today’s object of interest was an unremarkable cargo ship being loaded with biologic perishable containers from all over the world. This was not unusual. The category included all nature of foodstuffs, livestock in induced hibernation, and species being relocated for their own protection.

What raised a red flag for this particular ship was that its manifest lacked any and all details.

Although the harbormaster didn’t know it, this was a product of the Thunderhead’s inability to lie. Better to have nothing going nowhere, than to have dead Tonists going to a place that didn’t exist.

He approached the ship as the last of the containers were being lifted into place, with a few peace officers in tow in case he needed backup brawn. He boarded by the stern ramp and made his way to the bridge, stopping as soon as he heard voices. He motioned to the peace officers to stay back—he would call for them if needed—and he ventured forward, peering around a corner, eavesdropping on the conversation.

There were five of them, all dressed in ordinary enough clothes, but there was something awkward about them. Something uneasy. A clear sign that they were up to no good.

There was a thin young man who appeared to be in charge, and one of the women seemed familiar somehow, but it must have been his imagination. The harbormaster stepped in and cleared his throat, making his presence known.

The thin one quickly stood. “Can I help you?”

“Routine check,” said the harbormaster, showing them his credentials. “There are some irregularities with your paperwork.”

“What sort of irregularities?”

“Well, for one,” said the harbormaster, “you’re missing a destination.”

They looked to one another. The harbormaster couldn’t help but notice that one of the women—the one who had something familiar about her—was averting her gaze, and one of the others had stepped in front of her, blocking the harbormaster’s view.

“Port of Angels, WestMerica,” said the thin one.

“Then why is it missing from your paperwork?”

“Not a problem. We’ll just add it manually.”

“And the nature of your cargo is unclear.”

“It’s of a personal nature,” he said. “As harbormaster, isn’t it your job to send us on our way, and not to pry into our business?”

The harbormaster stiffened. There was something increasingly unsettling about this. It reeked of an unsavory hack into the database. The harbormaster dropped all pretenses.

“Either you tell me what you’re really up to, or I’ll hand you over to the peace officers waiting just outside that door.”

The thin one was about to speak again, but one of the others stood up. A bigger man, a bit more intimidating. “This is scythe business,” he said, and flashed his ring.

The harbormaster drew a quick breath. He had never considered that this might be a scythe operation… but if so, then why was the scythe not in his robe? And why were they using a Thunderhead transport ship? There was something very fishy here.

The big one must have read the doubt in his face, because he advanced on the harbormaster with the clear intent to glean—but before he could, the familiar woman stopped him.

“No!” she said. “No one’s dying today. There’s enough of that already.” The large one looked annoyed, but retreated. And that’s when the young woman took her own ring out of a pocket and slipped it on her finger.

It only took a moment to recognize her in context. This was Scythe Anastasia. Of course! It made sense now. Considering the nature of her broadcasts, he could understand why she would travel incognito.

“Forgive me, Your Honor, I had no idea it was you.”

“Your Honors,” corrected the other scythe, miffed at being ignored.

Scythe Anastasia extended her hand. “Kiss my ring,” she said. “I’ll give you immunity in exchange for your silence.”

He did not hesitate. He knelt and kissed her ring so hard it hurt his lips.

“Now you will let us go without any further questions,” she said.

“Yes, Your Honor. I mean Your Honors.”

The harbormaster went back to his office, which had a view of the entire port, and watched as their ship sailed out of the bay. He marveled at the unexpected moment—he had actually spoken to Scythe Anastasia—even more than that, he had kissed her ring! It was really a shame that all she had to offer was immunity, which was, of course, wonderful, but fell short of what he truly wanted. So once the ship was out of port, he triggered the tracking beacon he had attached to the hull and put in a call to