“I’ll find him,” Royce said, annoyed, and trotted off.
“Elden?” Wyatt called. “Can you give me a hand here?” he said, trying to pull up a large weathered plank mostly buried in the sand. “We can use this as the keel, I think.”
Alric and Mauvin were dragging over what looked like the side of a wooden crate. “There’s another side to this back there among those rocks,” the king informed Wyatt.
“That’s great, but right now can the two of you help us dig this beam out?”
Gaunt wandered the beach halfheartedly, kicking over rocks, as if he might find a mast hiding under one. Magnus noticeably avoided the water, sticking to the high beach area and glancing over his shoulder at the waves as if they were barking dogs he needed to constantly assure himself were chained.
Arista came running down to where the four dug the beam out of the sand. “I found a huge piece of canvas!” she said, and did a little dance.
Hadrian noticed her feet were bare. She held her shoes in her hands, swinging them by the heels, her robe swaying. As he looked at her just then, she could have been any number of girls he had known from taverns or small towns—not a princess at all.
“Don’t you like my celebratory dance?” she asked him.
“Is that what that is?”
She rolled her eyes. “Com’on and help me get the canvas. It will make the perfect sail.”
She ran back down the beach and Hadrian followed. She stopped and, bending down, pulled on the corner of a buried piece of canvas. “We’ll have to dig it out, but I bet it is big. I think—” She stopped when she spotted Royce and Myron walking toward them.
“There you are,” Hadrian said in a reprimanding tone. “You had Elden worried, young man.”
“I saw a crab,” Myron said, embarrassed. “They have these huge claws and run sideways—they scurry very fast—like big spiders. I chased him down the beach, but he disappeared into a hole before I could get a good look. Have you ever seen a crab?”
“Yes, Myron. I’ve seen crabs before.”
“Oh, so you know how fascinating they are! I was literally carried away—well, not literally. I mean, I wasn’t actually carried by the crab; lured is more accurate.”
“Royce, look at the canvas I found!” Arista said, repeating her little dance for him.
“Very nice,” the thief replied.
“You don’t seem suitably impressed. It’s going to be our sail,” she told him proudly. “Maybe we should have a contest for the person who finds the best part of the raft.” She followed this with a greedy grin.
“We could do that.” Royce nodded. “But I don’t think you’ll win.”
“No? Did you find something better?”
“Myron did.”
“Better than the crab?” Hadrian asked.
“You could say that.” Royce motioned for them to follow.
They walked around an arm of the cliff wall that jutted into the sea, causing them all to wade up to their ankles for a short bit. On the far side, resting on the sand about a half mile down the beach, was a small single-mast boat that listed off the keel. Its pair of black sails dangled from the yards, feebly flapping in the sea breeze.
“By Mar!” Hadrian and Arista said together.
A loose board on the boat’s deck creaked under Hadrian’s weight and Royce glared at him. Twelve years they had worked together, and still Royce did not seem capable of understanding that Hadrian could not float. The problem was that Royce apparently could. He made it look so easy. Hadrian walked like the caricature of a thief—on his toes, his arms out for balance, wavering up and down as if he were on a tightrope. Royce walked as casually as if he were sauntering down a city street. They communicated as they always did on the job, with facial expressions and hand gestures. Royce had learned sign language as part of his guild training but had never bothered teaching Hadrian more than a few signals. Royce was always able to communicate what he needed by pointing, counting with his fingers, or making simple obvious signs like scissoring his fingers across his level palm, imitating legs walking on a floor. He expressed most of his silent dialogue the way he was now: through rolled eyes, glares, and the pitiable shaking of his head. Given how irritated he so often looked, it was a mystery why he put up with Hadrian. After the first trip to the Crown Tower, both were convinced Arcadius was insane in paring them. Royce hated him and the feeling was mutual. Just as Royce recently confirmed, the only reason they had gone back together was out of spite—their shared dislike compelled them. Royce wanted to see Hadrian give up, or die, and Hadrian refused to give him the satisfaction of either. Of course, what ended up happening was something neither of them expected—they were caught.