There was a risk in blaming her quarry for the deaths aboard the Bashair. This captain would obviously pause, worrying about the safety of his vessel—or rather himself. All that mattered was whether his greed was greater than his fear.
Finally, he stepped around her and closed the cabin door. “What do you want from me?” he asked, showing a row of crooked, stained teeth.
“I cannot arrest until they reach ... il’Dha’ab Najuum. They murder Suman crew ... so must catch on Suman ground.”
“Arrest them?” he echoed. Though filthy, he was not stupid.
“When word of crime reach Suman ... law officers,” she continued, “they offer large reward.”
“And you want me to help you once we land? What’s my share of the reward?”
“All. I want them ... nothing more.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“They kill my ... friends,” she said. “I want justice ... not reward.”
She could see he was tempted but still uncertain. Whether he believed her or not, it was time to finish the ploy by tying his greed to a sense of righteousness. Dänvârfij reached inside her vest and removed a folded piece of pale gold cloth that she had hidden there. She unfolded it for the captain to see, and then refolded it when his mouth went slack.
“You are Shé’ith?” he whispered.
She nodded once. “I am in disguise ... to pursue my quarry.”
With no further hesitation, the captain straightened. “And the entire reward will be mine?”
“Yes. I travel ahead on other ship and wait in il’Dha’ab Najuum. Do not let passengers think you know.... When you arrive, I contact you for ... assistance.”
“Agreed!”
He did not appear remotely afraid of carrying passengers accused of murdering some other Suman crew. The foundation of the trap had been laid. At first, when Most Aged Father had explained his plan to her, she had wondered about the wisdom of allowing her quarry to be arrested by Suman authorities. She then realized that Magiere and Léshil would be disarmed, most likely separated, and locked up. They would be easy targets for any trained anmaglâhk. No Suman prison would be able to keep her or Rhysís out.
Turning without another word, she left the small cabin, headed up on deck, took a needed breath of clean air, and trotted down the ramp to head for the Falcon at a brisk pace.
As she boarded, the captain there smiled, and she nodded to him in turn before descending below to join her team. Opening the door of the first cabin, she peered inside to find Fréthfâre resting on one bunk while Én’nish and Rhysís sat side by side—both working.
Each held a tawny leather vestment with swirling steel garnishes from which they scrubbed away blood. One pale gold sash lay on the bunk beside them, and swords lay at their feet.
“You were careless,” Én’nish complained.
“I had to move quickly,” Dänvârfij replied.
She did not have to explain herself to anyone here, all of whom had—to one degree or another—sought to ignore Most Aged Father’s instructions. And Dänvârfij looked once more upon the folded pale gold sash still in her hand.
She tucked the piece of cloth back inside her vest in case it should be needed once more.
None of them left the cabin that day, and in the midafternoon, the Falcon sailed south.
The following morning, still locked inside the room at the inn, Magiere had to bite the inside of her mouth as Brot’an took over all aspects of their short journey to the harbor. She didn’t blame him for being overly cautious, considering what had happened—almost happened—the day before. But his manner was coldly insulting, and Magiere wondered how long it would take before either Leesil or Chap—or maybe both—had finally had enough.
“Does everyone know what to do?” Brot’an asked for the fifth time as he pulled up his hood.
Even Wayfarer sighed tiredly as Magiere answered, “I think we are all sure enough, so Leesil and Wayfarer should head out.”
If the port was still watched by the two remaining able-bodied anmaglâhk, then four people and a dog walking together would gain their attention instantly. And it seemed those butchers already knew which ship to watch. Brot’an had reasoned that the only strategy was to break into smaller groups. They would stay within sight of one another and move quickly without running when they all reached the fourth pier by separate routes. Once they were all on board, it was unlikely that only two anmaglâhk would move against them.
Magiere agreed, but the aging assassin looked tense, and that made her tense.
Leesil and Wayfarer would go first, heavily cloaked and holding hands like a couple.
Magiere would take Chap next and lead him on his rope.
Brot’an would follow last, keeping everyone in sight, until it was time to quickly catch up.
“All right,” he said to Leesil. “Go.”
Clearly hating even the idea of following Brot’an’s orders, Leesil glared at him. He hefted their travel chest onto one shoulder, took Wayfarer’s hand, and left.
Magiere picked up the rope’s end. Its other end was tied around Chap’s neck, and once again he was covered in soot—which may have been pointless since the anmaglâhk had already seen him like this, but they’d certainly spot a silver-gray majay-hì more easily. She counted to ten and left the inn, making two turns and coming out onto the mainway filled with people rushing or strolling about their days. Chap kept enough of a pace that Leesil and Wayfarer were still in sight.
—Brot’an is ... insufferable—
Magiere sighed, not even disagreeing, and whispered to Chap, “Let’s just get this over with.”
The trip to the port felt longer than it was for the tension. But soon they were headed up the fourth pier with most of the distance closed by the time Leesil and Wayfarer walked up the ramp onto the Djinn.
Magiere glanced back, and Brot’an was no more than eight strides behind her.
“How uneventful,” Leesil said dryly as she and Chap reached the deck.
Then she looked around at the medium-sized cargo vessel upon which they would make the long run to il’Dha’ab Najuum with no stops. It was a bit shabby, and a greasy-looking Suman with a protruding belly came right at them.
“This is Captain Amjad,” Wayfarer said politely.
Magiere heard the girl swallow hard with a brief choke, and she smelled ...
It took no more than one blink to figure out where that stench came from.
However, something beyond revulsion touched Magiere next. The captain’s eyes fixed briefly on Brot’an, then Leesil, and finally on herself. He looked her over as if he knew her, though she’d never seen him before now.
“You made it,” he said bluntly. “Don’t bother complaining about the food or the cabins. No one will listen.”
He turned abruptly and headed toward the prow.
“Charming,” Leesil said, raising one feathery eyebrow, and then he sighed as he glanced out to sea. “I won’t be keeping my food down anyway.”
Magiere was worried about more than Leesil’s ongoing seasickness. Something here felt wrong.
“I am sorry,” Wayfarer said. “This was our only choice.”
Altering her expression, Magiere patted the girl’s back. “You did well in finding us anything at all.”