Seren heard the opposite hatch open behind her, accompanied by footsteps too heavy to be a halfling’s. “Pay no mind to Gerith Snowshale,” said a familiar voice. “He’s a good translator and the best scout I’ve ever known, but he is too eager to impress the fairer sex. Whether they are the proper age, social class, or race is rarely a concern for him.”
Seren turned to face the new arrival. Her expression became grim when she recognized his face.
“Is there a problem?” Dalan d’Cannith asked with a small smile. “Did you not wish to see me?”
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. “Usually a dragonmarked ship is a little more obvious.”
“The ship bears no obvious marks of ownership for good reason, I assure you of that.”
“Are you the captain?” she asked.
“I own Karia Naille, if that is what you truly meant to ask, but I am not the captain,” he said. “I prefer to leave such matters in the hands of more qualified associates. What business do you have here?”
“I’m Seren Morisse,” she said. “I came to see Tristam Xain and Omax.”
“Both are in my employ,” Dalan said. “Tristam and Omax are currently in the city, gathering supplies for our departure. Perhaps I can be of assistance? You may as well address your concerns to me, as it is likely they would have referred you to me in any case. Or perhaps I have misjudged your arrival. Perhaps you simply returned to see if I had anything else worth stealing?”
“I think I made a mistake,” Seren said, backing toward the bridge. Dalan continued to watch her with a smug expression.
“Why am I not surprised?” Dalan said with a sigh. “A thief claims to seek answers, but when confronted with the most brutal truths, she scurries back to the safety of ignorance. Would you rather I lied to you, Seren? Would you rather I pretend not to know that you are a thief? I had assumed honesty would be our best starting point. If you change your mind, I will be waiting to discuss this. Enjoy the pie.” He turned and slipped back into his cabin, closing the hatch behind him.
The other hatch opened, and Gerith appeared. He held a wooden plate heaped with a thick slice of pie and a crystal goblet of milk. His cheerful expression faded when he saw Seren standing on the bridge.
“Leaving already?” he asked, crestfallen.
“Not yet,” she said, stopping and looking back toward Dalan’s cabin. “I need to talk to Dalan.”
“Ask him if he’d like some pie,” Gerith offered cheerfully.
Dalan looked up with a frown as Seren entered his cabin. Much like his private study, it was packed with books and scrolls. The small chamber was only as tidy as it needed to be for its owner to navigate the room unharmed. A small bed in one corner was the only gesture toward comfort. The shaggy old dog lay half-asleep on it now, though its tail thumped the pillows when it recognized Seren, the beloved giver of cake.
“We knock before we enter a cabin on this ship,” Dalan said, setting his quill down and placing whatever he had been writing out of sight.
Seren did not answer his barb, only dug out the journal and dropped it heavily onto the desk. Dalan reached out quickly to steady his wine glass. The volume landed so that the gorgon seal was facing Dalan.
“My partner and I stole that book last night,” Seren said.
“Yes, I know,” Dalan said, dusting off the cover with one hand. “Not only did you make a mess of my home, but Gunther was up all night with indigestion. Old dogs are not meant to have sweets.”
“Why didn’t you report the theft to the Watch?” she demanded.
“It was not the Watch’s affair,” Dalan said.
“The man who hired us killed my partner when he learned that book was a fake,”
Dalan looked up at her frankly. “Then perhaps you should go to the Watch and report his death.”
Seren only looked at Dalan.
“Of course that is not an option for a person in your profession,” Dalan said. “As it is not an option for me. We are not so different, Seren.”
“Why did our client want that book so badly? My partner didn’t tell me much before he died.”
“Why do you wish to know?” Dalan asked. “If you think you might ransom it back, you are mistaken.”
“No,” Seren snapped. “I just want to know why my friend died to steal a fake copy of … whatever this is.”
Dalan took a slow sip from his wine before he answered. “The book is not a fake, Seren,” he said. “It merely isn’t what your employer believed it to be. It is one of many mundane journals crafted by an author notable for several more significant works. Ironically, we might have more answers had you not so cleverly recovered it.”
“Explain,” Seren said.
“Tristam placed upon enchantments upon the book so that we could track it,” Dalan said. He looked at her intently. “So you really had no idea what your client believed this book to be?”
“No,” Seren said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. She pushed a pile of books from a chair across from Dalan and sat, eliciting an annoyed wince from him as the pile hit the floor. “Jamus knew more, but he didn’t tell me. Marth sure didn’t give anything away.”
“Marth,” Dalan said, weighing the name carefully. “So why did you bother to take the book with you when you escaped?”
“I thought it might hold some answers,” she said. “I guess it’s useless.”
“Not entirely,” Dalan said, leafing through the book’s pages. “It was necessary to use a compelling decoy, and thus it does bear some modest sentimental value. I appreciate its return. Had you not been the sort of person who would make the effort to return my property, for whatever reason, I most likely would not be tolerating your presence on my ship. Now, let us see if we can find some answers. Please tell me as much of your client, the man that killed your partner, as you can. His name was Marth, was it?”
“Tell me why you set a trap with an enchanted book first,” Seren demanded.
“A trap?” Dalan said. He laughed, steepling his fingers over the book. “The paranoid always overestimate their own importance. I did not trap you. I do not care about you. A man makes contingencies for his own protection, and you see it as some contrived plot against you. Realize where you stand. You and your partner chose the lives you did, and this Marth used you to get to me. You knew the risks, and when you failed to deliver genuine merchandise, you paid the price. If you cannot hold yourself to blame for being a thief who will offer her services to a murderer, then the depths of your denial are truly without measure. Keep in mind what your intent was yesterday evening-to steal another man’s property for money, on behalf of an employer you neither knew nor trusted. Do not pretend that you are somehow the injured party in this affair. You were simply not as clever as you imagined, and your friend Jamus died. Perhaps rather than curse me for some imagined entrapment, you might thank me for sending Tristam and Omax to save you.”
“I saved their lives, actually,” Seren said.
Dalan was silent a long moment, then chuckled. “The details of that encounter varied slightly with Tristam’s telling of the tale,” he said. “I suppose I should have known well enough to ask Omax what happened. He may be a construct, but he’s far more reliable than the boy. Now, please, let us set aside our respective motivations and concentrate on facts. You thought yourself the clever thief set to receive a legendary reward. I thought myself a keen manipulator, setting an inescapable trap to catch those who conspired against me. We were both wrong. Now tell me what you know and let us help one another.”
Seren folded her arms and leaned back in the chair with a frown. “I’m afraid I don’t know much,” she said. “We met a changeling named Marth, who called himself a captain.”
“A changeling?” Dalan asked. “He showed his true face to you and admitted he was a changeling?”
Seren nodded.
“Strange,” he said. “They are a misunderstood and often hated race. Their ability to control their appearance makes them difficult to trust. It’s very rare for one to reveal himself in such a manner, except to another whom he trusts implicitly.”