“Maybe a dozen. And they’re already worrying the edges of the rally, like raiding parties. That’s how I know. They jumped some of my guys running patrols.”

Maxine’s hands fisted. “What are they carrying?”

“Any sort of blade, you name it. No firearms. But they say those fucking monks are mean hand to hand. My guys beat ’em off but they took some hurt.”

“And the Stormies?” demanded Rousseau.

“Walking downtown!” Doyle stood arms spread, like he was thrilled to be bringing this news. “Or will be, once the priest girl is done with her sermonizing. Like army ants, devouring everything in their path! When the monks’ boats are filled, they’ll use the pass-thrus! When they run out of those, they’ll take to the walkways!”

All eyes turned to the storm-wrecked end of the Third Avenue walkway.

Rousseau raised his arms. “Then we’ll make sure to be gone when they get here!”

“Not a chance!” Doyle whirled to face him. “You don’t have the boats or the speed to get everyone out of here in time! Our only hope is meeting ’em face to face! I say we clear the harbor and set up an ambush!”

After that, everyone was shouting. And snarling and shaking their fists. Once more, the outer sentries signaled an intruder, and the entire Lagoon reached for the nearest thing you could call a weapon. But it was only the Ladysmith launch, returning late by hours.

Daniel pointed. “She’s missing her raft.”

Doyle’s escort boats closed around the open-canopied boat like Stormies might be hiding in the bilge. One of his men boarded for a quick search, then waved the all-clear. The crew brought the launch in beside the rope ladder to report to Maxine, unaware that their breathless news was already old. Surprise attack by knife-wielding monks. Sliced the tow rope. Stole the empty raft. Would’ve taken the boat, scrammed when shot at.

“Why steal an empty raft?” I asked.

“Transportation.” Breakers shifted in her seat and checked the load in her rifle.

Rousseau turned his back to lean heavily against the railing, clearly wracking his brain for his next move while Maxine yakked away at him. Everything about his stance said he wished she’d just shut up and let him think. Jake stood by with his stitched-up face, failing to talk her down.

“Rousseau could so easily lose control of this,” Daniel murmured.

“No way he’ll go for an ambush,” I said.

“Might have no choice. The tide’s with us only another three or four hours, and Doyle’s right: not enough boats and rafts to ferry everything that’s left in just one trip.”

“When are we meant to leave? Melville, I mean.”

“With the final push. Being covered and under power, we can stand a bit of weather if the storm gets here early.”

I shuddered, like a dog shaking off rain. “We shouldn’t wait that long.”