Royce stood casually, his hands loosely clasped before him as if he were just one of the bystanders—except his eyes never left the knife. Royce followed it as a cat might watch the movement of a string. It took Hadrian only a second to see why. Staul was holding the knife by the blade. On a hunch, Hadrian scanned the room and found Bernie Defoe standing behind and to Royce’s left, a hand hidden behind his back.
Staul took his attention off Royce for a moment, but Hadrian noticed his weight shift to his rear foot and hoped his friend noticed as well. An instant later Staul threw the knife. The blade flew with perfect accuracy, only when it arrived, Royce was not there and the tip buried itself in a deck post.
All eyes were on Staul as he bristled with rage, shouting curses. Hadrian forced himself to ignore the Tenkin and searched for Bernie. He had moved. Spotting the glint of a blade in the crowd, he found him again. Bernie had slipped up behind Royce and lunged. Royce spun. Not taken in by the plot, he faced his old guild mate with the blade Staul had provided. Bernie halted mid-step, hesitated, and then backed away, melting into the crowd. Hadrian doubted anyone else noticed his involvement.
“Ah! You dance well!” Staul shouted, and laughed. “That is good. Perhaps next time you trip, eh?”
The excitement over, the crowd broke up. As they did, Jacob Derning muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Good to see I’m not the only one who thinks he killed poor Drew.”
“Royce,” Hadrian called, keeping his eyes focused on Jacob. “Perhaps you should take your meal up on the deck, where it’s cooler.”
“That was pleasant,” Hadrian said after the two had safely reached the galley and closed the door behind them.
“What was?” Poe asked, dishing out the last of the stew for the midshipmen.
“Oh, nothing really. A few crewmen just tried to murder Royce.”
“What?” Poe almost dropped the whole kettle.
“Now can I kill people?” Royce asked, stepping into the corner and putting his back against the wall. He had an evil look on his face.
“Who tried to murder him?”
“Bernie,” Royce replied. “So what am I supposed to do now? Lie awake at night waiting for him and his buddies—I’m sorry, his mates—to knife me?”
“Poe, would it be possible for me and Royce to sleep in here at night?”
“In the galley? I suppose. Won’t be too comfortable, but if Royce is always on time for his watch, and if you tell Mr. Bishop you want him to help with the nighttime boils, he might allow it.”
“Great, I’ll do that. While I’m gone, Poe, can you go below and get us a couple of hammocks that we can hang in here? Royce, maybe you can rig a lock for the door?”
“It’s better than being bait.”
Royce worked both the second dogwatch and the first watch, which kept him aloft from sunset until midnight. By the time he returned, Hadrian had obtained permission for Royce to sleep in the galley. Poe had moved up what little gear they had and strung two hammocks between the walls of the narrow room.
“How is it?” Royce asked, entering the darkened galley and finding Hadrian hanging in the netting.
“Hmm?” he asked, waking up. “Oh, okay, I guess. The room is too narrow for me. I feel like I’m being bent in half, but it should be fine for you. How was your watch? Did you see Defoe?”
“Never took my eyes off old Bernie,” he said, grinning and dodging a pot that hung from the overhead beam. Hadrian knew Royce must have enjoyed a bit of revenge on Bernie. If there was ever a place where Royce held an advantage, it was a hundred feet in the air, dangling from beams and ropes in the dark of night.
Hadrian shifted his weight, causing his hammock to swing. “What did you do?”
“Actually, I didn’t do anything, but that was what drove him crazy. He’s still sweating.”
“So he did recognize you.”
“Oh yeah, and it was like there were two moons out tonight, his face was so pale.”
Royce checked the lines and the mountings of the hammock Poe had installed for him, and looked generally pleased with the work.
“To be honest, I’m surprised Bernie didn’t suffer an accidental fall,” Hadrian said.
Royce shook his head. “Two accidents off my mast is just bad planning. Besides, Bernie wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“Sure looked that way from where I was standing. And it seemed pretty organized too.”
“You think so?” he asked, sitting on the crate of biscuits Poe had brought up for the morning’s breakfast. “It’s not how I would do it. First, why stage the fight in a room full of witnesses? If they had killed me, they would hang. Second, why attack me below? Like I said, the sea is the perfect place to dispose of a body, and the closer to the rail you get your victim, the easier it is.”
“Then what do you think they were up to?”
Royce pursed his lips and shook his head. “I have no idea. If it’s a diversion to rifle our belongings, why not hold it topside? For that matter, why bother with a diversion at all? There have been plenty of times while we were on deck to go through our stuff.”
“You think it was just to intimidate us?”
“If it was, it wasn’t Bernie’s idea. Threatening to kill me but not finishing the job is famously fatal. He would know that.”