Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

The first merely chuckled, nodding, and almost lost his footing.

“Ah, grief!” said the second. “Get Hines off to Delilah’s ... before he falls on his face! I’ll show this foreigner the way and meet you there.”

As the other two wandered—and weaved—off the way Leesil had come, the one who remained bowed slightly to Leesil.

“I am Viscount Ogastino.”

“Please to make ac ... ac-guain ...” Leesil fumbled, intentionally this time.

“Yes, yes, come along now.”

Leesil strode off with the reluctantly helpful young viscount, and together they looked like nothing more than two gentlemen out for an evening’s entertainment. The Three-Legged Horse was almost on top of the harbor, and as they stepped inside, Leesil agreed with his companion’s earlier assessment.

Viscount Ogastino then surprised him. “Shall we order an ale? I’d rather like to see this lady who agreed to meet here .”

Leesil had only wanted male company for the walk, to help him blend in.

“Um ...” he began, not certain what to say.

Then the door opened, and Magiere stepped in.

“That her,” he whispered.

As she stood in the doorway in her crimson cape and a small silver tiara holding back her dark hair, the viscount’s eyes fastened on her pale face.

“Oh, blessed deities of woods,” he murmured. “There’s a forest bride I’d have met up with anywhere!”

Leesil didn’t like that insinuation about his wife—not at all.

“Yes ... forest ... bride.” He tried agreeing with that lewd remark. “She want not be seen. You go?”

With that, the viscount composed himself and nodded. “By all means. Have a pleasant night.”

Magiere was already on her way through the smoky tavern. As Ogastino passed her on his way out, he looked her up and down with a smile that made Leesil tense.

“What was that?” she asked as she joined him.

“Forget it,” Leesil grumbled. “Just something to throw off anyone watching.”

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered. “I want a dark alley to get out of this damned dress ... and get my sword back!”

Leesil loved her fierce side as much as he did the rest of her. For the first time since launching this undertaking, he looked into her eyes and was unable to forget what happened in Chathburh.

“There are lives at stake,” she whispered, as if knowing his thoughts. “I’m in control.”

Leesil tried to smile. “I know,” he agreed, hoping they were both right.

Once Dänvârfij gauged that enough of the night had passed, she led her team down to the floating walkways below the waterfront. All were once again garbed in their traditional forest gray of light wool. With matching scarves over their faces and only their eyes visible, they slipped among the deeper darkness below.

Rhysís untied a skiff beneath the first pier, and they boarded. Tavithê and Eywodan oared the small vessel, making barely more sound than a seagull swimming upon the briny water. They worked the small craft out beyond the first pier’s end into open water and kept well clear of all docked vessels. Earlier Dänvârfij had noted that the men on watch up in the masts kept their eyes on the waterfront and other ships, and almost never looked out to the open sea.

The skiff slipped by unnoticed all the way to the starboard side of the Cloud Queen at the end of the second pier.

Dänvârfij’s confidence in their plan grew a little with each passing moment. Of all that Brot’ân’duivé might suspect, he would least fear allowing Magiere and hers to reboard their own ship. They would be taken in complete surprise.

A number of the Cloud Queen ’s crew had been seen going ashore earlier that day; they had not been seen to return as yet. Dänvârfij estimated that less than two-thirds of the crew remained aboard. Before embarking this night, Rhysís had climbed the Bashair ’s central mast for a look. He had reported only six men, counting one up the main mast, on deck and watching over the Cloud Queen .

Rhysís and Tavithê had their short bows assembled and quivers of short arrows fastened to their hips under their cloaks. Both shouldered their strung bows, and, once the skiff floated up beside the vessel’s hull, Rhysís took the end of a rope and hook in his teeth. He pulled his bone knife, took the one Dänvârfij handed him, and began the painful process of scaling the hull as quietly as possible.

They could not risk throwing the hook over the rail; silence in that was impossible. In addition, should any sailor come along, this way he would not see a hook and line or hear Rhysís until too late.

Once he was up and over the rail, he set the hook and dropped the rope over the side. Én’nish climbed up to join him. Tavithê went next, followed by Dänvârfij, who had a stiletto already clenched in her teeth. The last to follow was Eywodan, as Dänvârfij retrieved her bone knife from Rhysís.

After that they made no effort to remain unseen, and events sped up quickly as they came out into the open on both sides of the aftcastle. A sailor at the prow on the forecastle spotted them first and shouted. Rhysís ignored the man and aimed his bow up along the main mast.

As soon as a sailor above looked over the crow’s nest wall, Rhysís’s bowstring thrummed.

Dänvârfij was already running.

The first crewman who had shouted never reached the main deck. Intercepting him, Dänvârfij drove her stiletto inside his guard and through the hollow of his throat, and then watched him drop. From the top of the steep forecastle steps, she looked away from his corpse to survey a silent ship.

Only the forest gray forms of her own team moved among motionless human bodies lying upon the deck. All of the anmaglâhk were barely visible by the light of two hanging lanterns, and the smallest was the first to reach the portside door below the aftcastle.

Én’nish stood waiting, flattened against the wall. As the door opened, voices could be heard before anyone came out.

“I’m telling ya, I heard Ethan shout,” one said.

Two disheveled men stepped out, and Én’nish let them both fully emerge.

She sidestepped in around the open door and slashed open the second man’s throat. As the first one turned at the wet sound, Eywodan appeared from the door’s other side and struck the man’s temple.

The crewman’s eyes rolled up, and his back hit the deck. Such a strike would render him half-unconscious, and Én’nish, with her wet blade still in hand, was instantly on top of him.

Dänvârfij quickly closed, but Eywodan was quicker.

“Bithna!” he hissed at Én’nish.

The crewman’s eyes fluttered as Én’nish’s slash halted with her blade merely hovering near his throat.

“Is your captain here?” Dänvârfij demanded.

The man’s eyes finally widened. He looked up at her, and then at Eywodan, and then at Én’nish, whose half-covered face was barely a forearm’s length above his.

“In ... in his cabin,” the man answered.

Dänvârfij scanned the deck and glanced back to see Én’nish clamp her free hand over the man’s mouth and thrust her blade between his ribs.

No more footsteps carried from below, and the deck was theirs.

All of the team gathered around Dänvârfij.

“Rhysís, Eywodan, and Tavithê, go below and finish this,” she instructed. “Lock the captain in his quarters. Én’nish and I will stand watch here to take any crewman who might return from onshore.”

All three men slipped through the door to the stairs. Half the crew would be kept alive to rotate up here for the illusion of normality. But Én’nish, who glared in hungry rebellion once they were alone, clearly wanted to take part in the killing below.