Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

She touched her forehead and tested with her fingertips to see whether the wound had stopped bleeding. Leesil let go of her and reached under his velvet tunic to tear off a piece of the shirt beneath it.

“Press that on the wound,” he said, and she did so as he looked to the ship. “Where is everyone?”

Brot’an stepped past both of them. “The ship appears deserted because it was taken by those who came after us. I saw a line in the rigging between the two vessels. Some, at least one of them, may still be aboard the Cloud Queen ... as I counted only four aboard the other ship.”

A more frightening thought struck Magiere. “Where’s Wayfarer?”

“Safe,” Brot’an answered. “I arranged for her and the boy to be hidden away under watch.”

Magiere wasn’t certain what that meant. But if Brot’an and Chap hadn’t come, she and Leesil could have been taken or killed. Still, it angered her that the old assassin had left Wayfarer with strangers. What had motivated him to come in the first place?

Magiere peered at Chap. How Brot’an had gotten the dog aboard the slave ship would wait until later.

“Chap, you lead,” Leesil said, and then switched to Numanese. “Brot’an, Dirken ... follow. All other come last.”

As the dog, with Brot’an and Dirken behind, stalked up the ramp, Leesil tried to lift Magiere’s arm over his shoulders, but she held him off. She could fight if need be—if he let her.

Perhaps he was too distracted to argue, for he turned silently up the ramp, and Magiere followed him.

When they reached the deck, Chap, Dirken, and Brot’an had spread out. Chap returned first and huffed twice for no, which meant he’d found nothing. Brot’an and Dirken returned with the same result. Leesil motioned the rest of the freed slaves toward the bow, and they did as he directed.

“Stay—hide,” he told them, and turned to Magiere and switched to Belaskian. “Stay here and guard them, no matter what you hear.”

That jolted her, and when she opened her mouth, he shook his head.

“I don’t want to bring them below until we know what’s happened here,” he whispered.

That wasn’t the only reason, although maybe he was right.

“Keep Chap with you,” Magiere told him. “He and Brot’an might sense anything wrong more quickly than anyone else.”

Leesil nodded, handed over her white metal dagger, and turned away. Chap was already waiting at one aftcastle door. Magiere stood pressing the piece of shredded shirt cloth against her scalp as Leesil motioned Brot’an toward the other door. Dirken followed that way as well.

With reluctance, Magiere backed toward the huddle of freed slaves. Leesil and the others were gone, leaving her dizzy, bloodied, and guilt ridden on deck.

By Brot’ân’duivé’s count, only one anmaglâhk remained here, if Fréthfâre was secreted elsewhere in the port. He had counted four on the Bell Tower . He killed Tavithê and flushed another from the crow’s nest. The two who’d been wounded on deck were both women, so he knew who they were.

The one here had to be either Rhysís or Eywodan.

The human called Dirken followed at his heels as they headed down the stairs beneath the aftcastle. Brot’ân’duivé saw Léshil and Chap step into the passage’s far end, and each pair turned its separate way into the ship’s depths. When Brot’ân’duivé reached the hold and continued into its darkness, Dirken followed him.

At a click of tin, light glowed in the space, and Brot’ân’duivé glanced back to see that Dirken had grabbed a lantern off the deck along his way.

“You are Lhoin’na?” Dirken asked.

“No, I am ... something else.”

“Those others, on the Bell Tower , looked like you ... darker than a Lhoin’na.”

Dirken said no more as Brot’ân’duivé walked into the ship’s hold and stopped midway to close his eyes. He listened to every sound and tested every scent in the stale and musty air. Then he pointed.

“That way.”

They exited through the hold’s far door and made their way down a short passage Brot’ân’duivé had not visited before. This was the lowest deck—down below the passenger’s quarters. At the passage’s end, a thick door was barred from the outside. Iron braces had long ago been installed on both sides; the door had been designed to lock something or someone in if necessary.

Brot’ân’duivé did not wonder why.

He heard movement beyond the door. Someone—more than one—was locked in there now. He looked sidelong at Dirken.

“Be ready to step past me. It would be best for those inside to see a human face first.”

Dirken frowned as he nodded.

Brot’ân’duivé hefted the bar from its brackets. He ratcheted the lever handle and stepped aside as he pulled the door outward. Sounds of rapid movements, those of bodies rustling and pushing past each other, came immediately from inside.

“Settle down!” Dirken barked. “We’re here to get you out.”

Brot’ân’duivé stepped around behind Dirken but held back. Several men in the room gasped or cursed.

“It’s one of them!” a man called out.

“Don’t be a fool!” Dirken shouted over the rest as he held up the lantern. “Or do you think just one would open the door for all of you?”

Some of the crew did not appear to listen. The panic and arguing grew louder. Then a young man stepped forward, squinting; there was a bad bruise on his forehead, and his right eye was swollen shut. It was Hatchinstall, the captain’s first mate. Through the dim light, he peered at Brot’ân’duivé’s face.

“It’s one of our passengers!” he called back to the others.

As Brot’ân’duivé had feared, at first the frightened sailors had seen only a tall an’Cróan in the doorway. More squinted at him, perhaps noted his scars, and began to quiet.

“What happened?” Brot’ân’duivé asked.

The young mate’s good eye was glazed. “A group, looking like you, boarded and killed half the men. We couldn’t stop them.... Nothing we tried did any good.”

“Where’s your captain?”

Hatchinstall shook his head. “Don’t know. They dragged me down here but ... not him. Maybe they locked him in his quarters.”

Brot’ân’duivé took a slow breath. That was where Léshil would go first.

“Get them up on deck,” he told Dirken and then turned down the passage at a run.

A hostage kept separate in upper quarters accessible to the deck would be guarded.

Leesil hadn’t expected to find anyone in the passengers’ cabins. He and his companions were this ship’s passengers. But as he and Chap turned the other way from where Brot’an had headed, the notion of where to look first came to mind.

Any crew left alive for future needs would be locked away below. Less than a handful would be needed to manage the vessel. But one, most of all, would know the routes and ports along this coast.

Silence in the first level below deck ate at Leesil’s nerves.

Chap was the first to creep in on the door to the captain’s quarters. Leesil waited as Chap sniffed the space below the door, and the dog lifted his head back up.

—Two—inside— ... —One—elf—

Leesil wondered how Chap could know that by smell, though the dog probably could tell by strength of scent whether anyone was in there. Then again, if even one was an’Cróan ... well, one of them wouldn’t be here unless someone else was present.

Leesil reached back and under his velvet tunic for his box of lock picks.

—No—a blade—

Leesil blinked—Chap couldn’t possibly know the door was unlocked.