Koreth turned back, tilting his head. ‘Yes?’
‘These letters of accord between our two islands … they should all be headed: From Tarel, King of Nap, by grace of the gods … to Mock, King of Malaz, by grace of the gods.’
The emissary’s eyelids fluttered in astonishment. For a time he was unable to respond, until he gasped, finally, ‘I … shall put this to my king for his consideration, of course.’
‘Excellent!’ Mock answered, and raised a hand in farewell.
Koreth fairly ran from the hall and the doors swung shut.
Once the doors were firmly closed, Mock took Tattersail’s hands and kissed them. ‘We are halfway there, my love!’
But her gaze remained on the doors. ‘You shouldn’t have pushed so hard.’
He laughed and offered a wink. ‘I asked for king but will settle for count.’
‘It all relies upon how much Tarel wants us out of his way – what are his plans? Is he eyeing the mainland?’
Mock shrugged again. ‘A small price to pay to be sure of his flank. His scrawl on a mere piece of paper.’ He snatched up the carafe. ‘We must celebrate this night!’
‘I’ll wait for Tarel’s answer.’
‘Don’t worry. You always worry. But,’ and he brushed her cheek, ‘what would I do without my Tattersail?’ He raised the carafe. ‘Come! Let us celebrate.’
She watched him back away, arms wide, and shook her head – so like an eager boy. So … King of Malaz. That would make her … She lost her own grin. They weren’t married. She would go from mistress of a pirate admiral to mistress of a king.
She felt her jaws tighten. They would have to have a talk, he and she.
*
Dancer pushed open the door to the office above Smiley’s common room and paused on the threshold. It was empty – the fool had wandered off again. Where to this time? Back to that eerie house? He strode in, examined the mess of papers on the desk: more of the fellow’s sketches and enigmatic map-like drawings of lines and overlapping circles. The maps reminded him vaguely of astrological charts he’d glimpsed tacked up in the stalls of Dragons Deck readers.
Something crackled under his heeled shoes and he crouched to run a hand over the slats of the floor. Grit of some sort. He examined his hand, rubbing a thumb over the fingers. Sand. Fine sand. And – he sniffed – a faint lingering spice-like scent. Sweet. But with a bite, like mace.
Now he knew where Wu had disappeared to.
The fool. There was a good chance he may never see the lad again.
Someone on the stairs. He stilled. His hands went to the short wooden batons he carried for the moment; he wasn’t killing anyone – yet.
It was the youngest of the Napan crew, the girl named Amiss. She halted in the narrow stairwell. ‘Trouble in town.’
‘All right.’ He straightened, crossed the room and locked the door behind him.
Amiss tried to peer in past him. ‘Where’s … you know … the old man?’
Wu had yet to give his name to anyone, and Dancer suspected why – the vain idiot. ‘He’s off trying to gather more power to himself.’ Which was technically true.
The girl’s dark eyes widened in superstitious dread; Nap, it seemed, produced few mages other than those of Ruse. ‘Oh.’
‘So, what’s the problem?’
She blinked, nodding, and invited him down the stairs. ‘A shipment of liquor got past us and Geffen’s boys are using it to reclaim the concession to the bars in town.’
They reached the common room, which was its typical near-empty self. Dancer set his hands on the batons shoved into his belt. ‘Great. Who’s free tonight?’
‘Just me ’n’ you.’
Not the best combination – two knifers. But that was not strictly true … on this island he was the heavy. He waved her onward. ‘Fine. Let’s go.’
She led the way out on to the night-gleaming wet cobbles. Dancer paced along, hands on his batons. ‘How’d they get hold of the shipment?’
She waved, disgusted. ‘You kidding? Everyone on this island’s a damned smuggler.’
He offered her a grin. ‘Like Nap, I imagine.’
She snorted her agreement. ‘Yeah. I guess so.’
He studied her sidelong: petite, with a pert nose and hair hacked so short it stood on end, like fur. A kid, really. Yet so serious all the time. ‘How long have you been on Surly’s crew?’
She looked quite startled, almost jumping. ‘I’ve always been with m’— that is … a few years.’
It seemed to him that she’d been about to say, “m’lady”. ‘So … she’s Napan aristocracy. I thought so.’
The girl scowled ferociously, her lips clamping tight.
‘Fine. It’s all right.’ He peered about through a night mist that was too thin to be deemed rain. ‘Which way?’
‘They started with the best places and are working their way down the rungs.’ She gestured. ‘Let’s try the waterfront dives.’
They headed down the gentle slope that led to the waterfront. Here all he could hear were the waves striking the shore and the distant creak and groan of the vessels at moorage. Then the light of a swinging lantern in an alley betrayed movement. He pointed Amiss to the roof of the neighbouring building and headed in.
He heard voices raised in argument and came upon the rear of a crowd of Geffen’s thugs gathered at a door harassing a very frightened-looking fat fellow in a stained apron.
‘Take it and pay us later, then,’ a woman said, and he recognized their earringed friend.
The fellow, the proprietor no doubt, was wringing his hands in his apron. ‘I’d really like to, really. But I’m all stocked up, you see. Got no room…’ and he gave a laugh that was like a strangled titter.
‘You’ll take it anyway,’ the woman snarled. ‘Consider it an advance from Geffen. He’ll collect later.’
The innkeeper laughed nervously again, almost wilting in sweat. ‘I would! Really! But there’s no room back here…’
The woman gestured to two of the muscle with her. ‘We’ll make some room.’
The two surged forward, only to rebound from a new figure that had suddenly replaced the fat proprietor in the doorway. This one filled it like a solid wall.
‘Out of the way, y’damned beersot,’ the woman warned.
‘No fighting in the bar,’ the huge fellow rumbled in a voice like a thumped empty barrel. The woman snapped her fingers to urge the toughs forward once more. They straight-armed the huge figure only to rebound again as if having run into brick.
Dancer drew his batons and raised them to rest each on a shoulder. ‘I have room in a warehouse I know,’ he announced.