The musket dropped to the earth.

“Gavin!” the woman shouted to the wind. “My boy! Come home! Please come—”

“Your boy’s lying dead up there in the watchtower!” Devane shouted back. His voice cracked, and it was a few more seconds before he spoke again. In those seconds Matthew heard the woman draw a terrible breath and he thought he could drive this sword through Devane and sleep soundly for it. “Dead!” Devane went on. “They took him up there and killed him! So one of you fine men go get him and bring him home for the lady, won’t you?”

No one moved or spoke. Matthew saw Gregor wanting to go for the musket so he kept the sword where it was. Eurig didn’t try to raise his gun; he was slope-shouldered, weary and beaten.

“What?” Ariana’s voice had become a ghost of a whisper. The wind moved her hair, and that was all that moved. And again, even more agonized: “What?”

“Take her away from here,” Devane said to the man at Ariana’s side, and this time she allowed him to lead her, stumbling and silent in her grief, off the street.

“You’ve seen the body?” Eurig asked after the woman had gone.

“We have. Now I’m asking some questions,” Devane said, and he kept the pistol at his side as he walked past Matthew and stood almost face-to-face with the old man. He had quickly regained his composure, but Matthew still heard a strange weakened note in his voice. “The two ships. What flags did they fly?”

“Royal Navy. And sure I know the white St. George’s ensign when I see it.”

“What direction did the ship carrying the cardinal go?”

“South,” said Eurig. “Hardly any lamps on her, but I marked it.”

“Why did that bastard kill Gavin James?” another man in the group of villagers asked. “What were you doin’ up at the tower, anyway?”

Devane ignored him and kept his focus on Eurig. “How many masts on the ship?”

“A three-master. Runnin’ full sail when they set off.”

Devane’s gaze moved past the old man toward the wharf. He tapped his chin with the barrels of his pistol, and Matthew could see the gears working in his brain. Matthew already knew: Cardinal Black and twelve men, headed south in a triple-masted ship flying a Royal Navy ensign of the white fleet … it would be impossible to tell where they were headed, and yet …

Devane voiced it before he could: “I wonder where a stolen pair of large ships might find anchorage. And Black’s not solely behind this. As incredible as I find it to be, he had to have help from within the shipyard to get those vessels. I’ll wager someone with high authority is backing this entire enterprise.”

“Little good that wager does us,” said Matthew.

Devane turned upon him. “Are you a gambler?” He went on without waiting for a response. “Strike that. Of course you are, or you wouldn’t be standing here. Well, Corbett … if you wish to at least try to concoct a decent plan of action, we’re to take a sea voyage.” He stalked onward, parting the onlookers with a wave of his pistol. Matthew was torn whether or not to keep the sword at Gregor’s throat; instead he picked up the man’s musket and carried it with him to follow Devane to the wharf.