By now, everyone knew his responsibilities and could perform them reasonably well. Hadrian and Royce were pleased to discover they were not the only novices aboard. Recently pressed men composed nearly a quarter of the crew. Many came from as far away as Alburn and Dunmore, and most had never seen the ocean before. The other men’s bumbling presence, and Wyatt’s assistance, masked Hadrian’s and Royce’s lack of experience. Now both knew the routine and their tasks well enough to pass on their own.
The Emerald Storm continued traveling due south, with the wind on its port quarter laying it over elegantly as it charged the following sea. It was a marvelously warm day. Either they had run so far south that the season had yet to change, or autumn had blessed them with one last breath of perfect weather. The master’s mate and a yeoman of the hold appeared on deck at the ringing of the first bell to dispense the crew’s grog.
About four days into the voyage, Royce finally found his sea legs. His color returned, but even after more than a week, his temper remained sour. One contributing factor was Jacob Derning’s constant accusations about his culpability in Drew’s death.
“After I slit his throat, I can just drop the body into the sea,” Royce casually told Hadrian. They had collected their grog and the crew lay scattered about the top decks, relaxing in the bright sunshine. Royce and Hadrian found a cozy out-of-the-way space on the waist deck between the longboat and the bulkhead where the sailmaker and his mates had left a pile of excess canvas. It made for a luxurious deck bed from which to watch the clear blue sky with its decorative puffs of clouds.
“I’ll dump him at night and he’s gone for good. The body won’t even wash up onshore, because the sharks will eat it. It’s better than having your own personal vat of lye.”
“Okay, one more time.” Hadrian had become exhausted from the conversation. “You can’t kill Jacob Derning. We have no idea what’s going on yet. What if he’s Merrick’s contact? So until we know something—anything—you can’t kill anyone.”
Royce scowled and folded his arms across his chest in frustration.
“Let’s get back to what we know,” Hadrian went on.
“Like the fact that Bernie Defoe was once in the Black Diamond?” Royce replied.
“Really? Well, that’s interesting. So let’s see …We’ve got a cargo hold full of elves, enough weapons to outfit an army, a sentinel with a company of seret, a Tenkin, and an ex-Diamond. I think Thranic must be part of this. I doubt a sentinel is just taking a pleasure cruise.”
“He does stand out like a knife in a man’s back, which is why I doubt he’s involved.”
“Okay, let’s put him in the maybe category. That leaves Bernie at the top of the list. Was he in the guild at the same time as you and Merrick?”
Royce nodded. “But we never worked with him—hardly even saw him. Bernie was a digger—specialized in robbing crypts mostly, and then he got into looking for buried treasure. Taught himself to read so he could search old books for clues. He found Gable’s Corner and the Lyrantian Crypt, apparently buried somewhere out in Vilan Hills. Came back with some nice stuff and all these tall tales about ghosts and goblins. He ended up having some disagreement with the Jewel, and it wasn’t long before he went independent. Never heard of him after that.”
“But Merrick knew him, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Think he recognized you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. He wouldn’t let on if he had. He’s no fool.”
“Any chance he’s turned a new leaf and taken up sailing for real?”
“About as likely as me doing it.”
Hadrian eyed Royce for a heartbeat. “I put him at the top of the list.”
“What about the Tenkin?”
“That’s another strange one. He—”
“Land ho!” the lookout on the foremast shouted while pointing off the port bow. Royce and Hadrian got up and looked in the direction indicated. Hadrian could not make out much, just a thin gray line, but he thought he could see twin towers rising in the distance. “Is that …”
“Drumindor,” Royce confirmed, glancing over his shoulder before sitting back down with his rum.
“Oh yeah? We’re that far south? Been a while since we’ve been around here.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Okay, so the fortress wasn’t the best of times, but the city was nice. You have to admit Tur Del Fur is better than Colnora, really. Beautiful climate, brightly painted buildings on an aqua sea, and it’s a republic port. You’ve got to love an open city.”
“Oh? Remember how many times you banged your head?”
Hadrian frowned at him. “You really do hate dwarves, don’t you? Honestly, I’m surprised you let Magnus stay at the abbey. All right, so there’s a bit too much dwarven architecture there, but it sure is built well. You’ve got to admit that, and you liked the wine, remember?”
Royce shrugged. “What were you going to say about the Tenkin?”
“Oh yeah. His name is Staul.”
“Doesn’t seem like the sailor type.”
“No.” Hadrian shook his head. “He’s a warrior. Most Tenkin men are. Thing is, Tenkins never leave the Gur Em.”
“The what?”