As if in response, a stronger gust whirled round me, catching my white hair and blowing it round my head. It was usually a colour that made me stand out in a crowd but in greyer-than-grey weather like this, it was almost perfect camouflage.
Shoving my hands in my pockets and whistling, I wandered over to the Haig tugboat. It appeared deserted. With a quick look over my shoulder, I jumped up, caught hold of one of the ropes that tethered it to the dock and hoisted myself up. Keeping low, I crept along the smooth deck until I reached the starboard side. My brow furrowed. Somehow, from this angle, the distance to the Carnegie vessel looked greater.
The sailors, most of whom appeared to be mermen, were making a great show of looking busy. Keep at it, boys. I waited until most of their backs were turned then, inhaling deeply, threw myself forward, legs and arms akimbo. My fingers only just caught the edge of a porthole and my body slammed into the side of the ship a moment later. There was a heavy clunk which had my insides stiffening in alarm. I hung there for several seconds, trying to keep my grip secure. I hadn’t expected the porthole to be so slimy, which in hindsight was remarkably stupid of me, and it wasn’t easy to cling on. Eventually a few shouts carried over by the helpful wind reached my ears. The sailors’ attention was focused on the other side of the ship. I didn’t need to worry.
The ship’s hull might have been slippery but it was also obviously used to far deeper waters than these. There were enough barnacles which, if I didn’t allow my toes to linger on them for too long, could provide the grip I required. I craned my neck to judge my route then, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hang onto the rim of the porthole for much longer, leapt up. The second I hit the deck I rolled, using the steel containers crammed along the side to conceal myself from alert eyes. The ship heaved in the water. It was no wonder I usually chose to stick to dry land; even within the safety of the harbour, the waves were enough to make my stomach rise into my throat.
I pressed myself against the container’s side, not just to keep myself from being spotted but also because it was reassuringly solid. Edging along, I peered round the corner. There was an open door leading into the blackness of the ship’s hold.
I was in unknown territory. Under normal circumstances I sneaked into buildings, and modern architectural design, especially when it came to interiors, tended to be much of a muchness. Even without floor plans, it didn’t take much common sense to understand layouts and locations. But, beyond the fact that icebergs were to be avoided at all costs, I knew next to nothing about ships.Perhaps if I just wandered in yelling ‘Ahoy me hearties!’ I’d be alright.
Before I could dart inside, the Sidhe noble reappeared. He had a long thin nose, which spoke of some ancient Roman heritage, and piercing eyes. I didn’t recognise him so he wasn’t the Carnegie Clan Chieftain, despite his regal bearing.
‘It all needs to go to the Cruaich immediately,’ he said in a cultured tone, referring to the seat of Sidhe power where Aifric Moncrieffe ruled as Steward.
One of the mermen cleared his throat. ‘There’s been a heavy snowfall…’
‘I don’t care,’ the Sidhe snapped. ‘We can’t afford prying eyes seeing what we have.’
A tiny smile played around my mouth. So this was all supposed to be a great big secret? Even better. If his precious cargo was too large for me to spirit away, I could simply take a few photos and post them around for all to see. His big secret, whatever it was, would be exposed to the world and I’d win either way. Since I’d turned my back of the world of thievery, I had to get my kicks where I could.
The merman bowed, although it didn’t take a genius to notice that he was more than slightly piqued by the command. All mermen, my friend and erstwhile colleague Brochan included, had a line of small fins running down the length of their spines. Usually this was covered by specially designed clothing which reached up to the nape. This sailor was wearing a low, crew-cut T-shirt so his first few fins were on display and, even from my hiding place, I saw them bristle and tighten. But it didn’t matter how irked he was, he wasn’t about to deny the Carnegie lordling. That meant the Sidhe probably possessed one of the more volatile magic Gifts – and wasn’t afraid to use it against less magically inclined beings. One of the reasons that the Sidhe held the powerful position that they did was as a result of their Gifts – anything from pyrokinesis to telepathy. Most Sidhe only had one; a lucky few could boast of two or even three. My situation was a lot more complicated. I still wasn’t sure what I had – or whether I even wanted it.