He heard the thud of Eider landing on the deck. Leftrin turned his head and smiled at Skelly, who had appeared at his elbow. “Cast off,” he said in a conversational voice and then turned back to look at the delegation on the dock. “You might want to stand back,” he suggested affably. “We need to reposition the barge for further loading. Won’t take but a minute.”

“He’s leaving!” the Council member at Polsk’s side hissed, and then to the guard he shouted, “Don’t let them untie! Hold on to their mooring lines; don’t let them get away.”

“Abandon the lines if you have to,” Leftrin suggested without worry. The forward lines were already snaking aboard, and Swarge was at the tiller sweep. The guardsman with the pike had stepped up to guard the aft line. Big Eider shrugged, shaking his head at the waste, and stooped down to unfasten the moorage line from Tarman’s cleat. He tossed it overboard and Tarman floated free. “To your poles!” Swarge sang out, and the crew moved as if they had one mind.

“Tarman?” Leftrin pleaded quietly, and the liveship responded with an unseen but powerful kick of his hidden hind legs. Leftrin was glad he was holding on to the railing. Big Eider gave a whoop of surprise and staggered sideways as the barge surged forward. The cries of amazement from the watching guardsmen were both satisfying and alarming. Leftrin took pride in his modified liveship’s abilities, but also usually took care to keep Tarman’s differences secret. Ever since the true origin of wizardwood had been acknowledged, any usage of it by humans had not only been frowned upon but forbidden by Tintaglia. That the dragons he had escorted up the river accepted Tarman was something that he had attributed to Mercor’s tolerance. He never wished to have it become common knowledge. “Enough, ship,” he suggested quietly, and though Tarman continued to paddle, he did so discreetly, only enough to make it appear that his crew was exceptionally rather than supernaturally talented.

“We’ve got followers, Captain,” Hennesey called to him.

Leftrin turned to see and uttered a curse. The mate was right. Either the Council had not believed their City Guard was sufficient to the task, or several small boat owners had decided that following the Tarman might lead them to a real prize. The way rumors spread in any Trader city, Leftrin was not surprised that lesser Traders might have heard that the Tarman expedition had found Kelsingra but refused to disclose the location. Doubtless they thought to follow him tenaciously until he betrayed his destination. And he was just as confident that they would fail. He grinned. “Keep your distance from them but there’s no need to—”