Kalam stepped to one side and glanced back down at the main deck. The treasurer was continuing his tirade against the captain. The crew was motionless, all eyes on the scene.

Salk Elan tsked. ‘An appalling breach of etiquette, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Ship’s command is the captain’s,’ the assassin said. ‘If he’d the mind to, he’d have put a halt to things by now. Looks to me like the captain’s letting this squall run out.’

‘Nonetheless, I suggest you and I join the proceedings.’

Kalam shook his head. ‘Not our business and there’s no value in making it so. Mind you, don’t let my opinion stop you.’

‘Ah, but it is our business, Kalam. Would you have all the passengers tarred by the crew? Unless you enjoy the cook’s spit in your gruel, that is.’

The bastard has a point.

He watched Salk Elan step casually down to the main deck, and, after a moment, followed suit.

‘Noble sir!’ Elan called out.

The treasurer and his two bodyguards all turned.

‘I trust you are fully appreciative of the captain’s patience,’ Elan continued, still approaching. ‘On most ships you and your effete servants would be over the side by now, and at least two of you would have sunk like ballast stones – a most pleasing image.’

One of the bodyguards growled and edged forward, a large, hairy hand closing on the grip of his tulwar.

The treasurer was strangely pale beneath the sealskin hood, his face showing not a drop of sweat despite the heat and the heavy swaths of the Napan raincloak covering his thin frame. ‘You insolent excuse for a crab’s anus!’ he squealed. ‘Roll back into your hole, blood-smeared turd, before I call on the harbour magistrate to throw you in chains!’ The man raised one pallid, long-fingered hand. ‘Megara, beat this man senseless!’

The bodyguard with his hand on his weapon stepped forward.

‘Belay that!’ the captain bellowed. Half a dozen sailors closed in, moving between the moustached bodyguard and Salk Elan. Pins and knives waved about menacingly. The bodyguard hesitated, then backed away.

The captain smiled, anchoring his hands on his hips. ‘Now,’ he said in a quiet, reasonable tone, ‘me and the coin-stacker will resume our discussion in my cabin. In the meantime, my crew will help these two servants out of their Hood-damned chain and stow it somewhere safe. Said servants will then bathe and ship’s cutter will examine them for vermin – which I don’t tolerate ‘board Ragstopper – and when the delousing’s done they can help load the last of their master’s provisions, minus the leadwood bench which we’ll donate to the customs officer to ease our departure. Finally, any further cursing on this ship – no matter how inventive – comes from me and no-one else. That, gentlemen, will be all.’