Kessligh gnawed at his lip. It was the only nervous gesture Sasha knew him to have. Steiner knew better than to unload weapons bound for the Bacosh or Lenayin on the main Petrodor Dock, with so many Nasi-Keth and serrin around. Instead they transferred cargo to smaller boats out at sea, which in turn came up the Sarna to unload in Riverside.
“Errollyn,” said Kessligh, “how many boats on the Torack pier?”
“Looks like…three square sloops and four barges. Barges at the far pier, sloops at the near.”
“Do we even know for certain those are the ships?” Sasha wondered.
“Yes,” said Aiden. “Three sources, all paid. None knew the others existed so they could not have coordinated their stories.”
“It's a high pass in hostile territory,” Sasha observed. In mountainous Lenayin, a high pass meant a narrow place where advancing forces could be trapped, and slaughtered. “I don't like it.”
“There's never anything to like about fighting in cities,” said Kessligh. “If there's been no unloading, it should all be on the boats still. We'll go with plan five for now, but tentatively. I need a scout. If we commit ourselves to the Torack warehouse entirely, we'll need to know what's in the neighbouring ones.”
“I'll go,” said Errollyn, flashing a smile in the dark. “I'm the only one here who can see.”
“Good,” said Kessligh. “And…”
“Me,” said Sasha. “I'm small and I'm sneaky.”
“But in a nice way,” said Errollyn. Sasha grinned.
“Sneaky in a Lenayin forest and sneaky in a city are not the same thing,” said Kessligh. “Better one of Aiden's lads should go.”
“I've ridden on campaign with Errollyn and fought two battles with him,” Sasha said firmly, giving Kessligh a firm stare. “We'll move better together.”
Kessligh's lips twisted unhappily. As if he felt guilty for pushing her into such a position. Sasha felt her heart swell at the sight of his concern. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn't help it. That concern, however, was not evident in his voice. “Stay low,” he said, “and pull back immediately if there's trouble.”
Sasha took the lead, moving between the old warehouse front and more piles of old crates, where little light penetrated. The warehouse looked abandoned, with nothing stored near that might require a guard. Errollyn followed, his bow in one hand.
The next alley provided cover, and the old warehouse's warped sides provided foot and hand holds for a climb to the roof. Errollyn covered Sasha, then slung his bow over a shoulder and climbed-the bow was nearly as tall as him, but it seemed to give him no problems. When he was up, Sasha pointed to the beam at one end and indicated up the sloping slate roof where it should run. Errollyn nodded, and Sasha moved up that line, careful not to put a foot to either side where the poor construction could plunge her straight through both roof and ceiling.
She paused at the roof's apex and peered across. The next warehouse was guarded. She could see figures standing watch along the riverside dock. From this high angle, she could see others seated behind crates and sacks, their crossbows leaning nearby. Some played dice by lamplight, and she could hear muted conversation and laughter. To her left, away from the river, Riverside sprawled, with only a few lights to break the desolation. Higher beyond rose Backside, referred to by the higher classes as the arse-end of Petrodor.
A hand came down on the tile to her side, and she realised that Errollyn had crawled almost directly on top of her to gain a view without abandoning the support of the beam beneath. The Torack warehouse was still three further along.
“The next roof,” he whispered in her ear. “We can jump the gap. Even I can't see enough from here.”
His knee was between her own, his body nearly pressing on her back. And she was amused at herself for noticing, with all else that was important in the night. She slithered over the apex and crawled down the opposing roof-side, careful to disperse her weight lest she dislodge a tile and bring guards running to investigate the clatter.
At the gap between warehouses, she paused and peered down. She could see nothing below, but there was a guard on the corner. The gap ahead was two armspans-simple enough in daytime, but at night, onto loose tiles, not so easy. She gathered to a crouch, then uncoiled and leapt. She landed comfortably enough, not even displacing a tile.
She crawled onward, feeling very pleased with herself-years of sneaking about forbidden places in Baen-Tar Palace, or climbing trees around Baerlyn, had not been in vain. She paused to wait for Errollyn, only to see that he'd already jumped behind her. She hadn't even heard him land.
Atop the apex of this rooftop, he crawled over her again. “I count nine guards,” he murmured in her ear, “but there could be plenty more. We should wait awhile, and see what comes.”
“Like this?” The thought was not unappealing. If Errollyn rolled to one side, the tiles would quite likely give way. If he crawled forward above the roof's apex, he'd risk being seen. No choice, really…
“You could slide down,” Errollyn suggested. “I see more than you.”
“Two pairs are better than one,” Sasha said quickly. “I might see something you don't recognise.”
Errollyn simply lay on her back, taking part of his weight on his arms. Sasha bit her lip. “Don't get too excited,” he told her. “This is strictly business.”
“Business can be fun too,” said Sasha. Dear spirits, they were twenty paces from men who would gladly kill them and she was flirting.
Sasha knew that however nice Errollyn's gentle bodyweight felt, and however his supporting arm seemed to half wrap around her in a partial embrace, she should not take it too personally. She'd seen serrin exchange even more intimate physical affections without appearing to mean very much by it…or not as a human might understand such things.
“Look,” he said and pointed down at the riverside dock. Some figures walked along a narrow pier lit with the dancing light of a torch. One was a lordly man in fancy clothes. Behind him walked a man in a dark robe and hood…strange for the night was warm. Several guards walked with them. “Symon Steiner,” Errollyn murmured.
“Really?” Sasha peered more closely. The lordly man wore a broad-brimmed hat, lowlands style, with a plume in the band. The brim cast a shadow, obscuring the face. “Are you certain?”
“Of course. I can see the family resemblance.”
“Don't remind me,” Sasha muttered. Her own brother-in-law. Dear spirits. “Who's in the hood?”
“Someone who doesn't wish to be recognised, I'd guess. I'll bet you three quarters it's a priest.”
“Three quarters? Serrin are so cheap.”
“Only because humans fleece us so often.”
“Besides, a priest?” Sasha said as the implications of that began to sink in. “Why?”
“Who better to supervise a holy war than a priest?” Errollyn said.
“You think the priesthood has that much control over the preparations for war?”
“Moral guidance,” said Errollyn, staring at the figures on the dock. They'd stopped at the beginning of the pier and were discussing something. Their hands barely moved as they spoke, so they were in relative agreement. When Torovans were agitated, their hands waved around a lot. “Steiner provides the money and trade, the dukes and your father provide the men, and the priesthood provides the moral justification.”
“And puts the fear of eternal damnation into them,” Sasha murmured.
“Exactly.” Errollyn moved against her back, and that was an interesting sensation too. “Someone's coming.” A soldier jogged across the dock to Symon and the hooded man, and murmured something in Symon's ear. The hooded man turned to look about as they spoke…and even Sasha could see the torchlight catch the black robes beneath his cloak, and the glint of something large and gold about his neck. “You owe me three quarters,” said Errollyn.
“I don't recall agreeing to that bet,” Sasha said.