“Barley!” Dotheril’s voice shook with rage. “It’s had bread, and cheese, and biscuits, and strips of mutton—not a scrap could they throw to me without that devil clapping its beak around it, and shaking it down its gullet . . .”

Saracen waddled forward, chuckling solemnly, until Mosca’s falling hair tickled over his beak and white neck. She closed her arms around his solid, white weight, and struggled herself upright.

Bonnet back in place, she pushed her way out through the tarpaulin. The sailor who had been waiting nearby suddenly remembered that he had left his ropework near the bow, and nearly kicked bales overboard in his haste to recover it. As Mosca climbed gingerly after him to make her farewells, it seemed to occur to him that light for working was far better at the stern, and he scrambled away from her to find a suitable seat.

“You don’t want me to wait for Mr. Partridge to come back?”

“No!” The sailor’s voice had a tight sound, as if he were trying to hold his breath. “You just . . . just go your ways.”

“And you don’t even want—” Mosca’s hand half reached for the money in her pocket.

“No!”

“Right then.” When Mosca’s feet had crossed the plank back to the jetty, the sailor’s shoulders relaxed a little.

When he saw Mosca approaching along the street with Saracen in her arms, the muddied look of concern on Clent’s face suddenly dropped away, and he positively beamed.

“Let us regard this latest recruit in our Grand Objective.” Clent put his head to one side as he pretended to examine the goose, taking care all the while to stay out of reach of Saracen’s beak and wings. “Hmm. Chin rather weak, but fiery eyes courageously spaced. Shoulders drawn back, chest thrust forward nobly—yes, madam, I think your friend has the makings of a soldier.”

With every step away from the Dragmen’s Arches, Clent’s mood seemed to soar, and they dragged Mosca’s own spirits skyward like a man-sized kite. The smiles he directed at Saracen were so generous and affectionate that she felt a rush of warmth toward Clent. Not enough warmth to make her return all the money, of course, but enough for her to tell him that Partridge’s men had asked for only a little ransom.