The bay was a pretty place to dock your boat, if you didn’t mind the security risk. As I scanned the deck, I bit back a laugh. There was indeed only a single guard, a slight red-haired man sitting on a chair on the deck, his feet propped on the rail, a bottle at his side.

“Easy pickings,” I murmured to Kristof.

We advanced on the boat, sticking to the shadows. When we drew close enough to see the deck without Aspicio-boosted vision, we both stopped short. The guard was talking. I saw no sign of another person. Kristof motioned for me to listen.

“…weeks in this fucking town and I’m still guarding this fucking ship,” the guard was saying. “‘Sorry, Danny-boy, them’s the rules.’ Danny-boy.” He let out a snarl.

“Next son-of-a-bitch who calls me that…”

The rant fell to a mutter. There was no one else on the ship, just one very bored, very angry, slightly drunk guard. So much for any hope of a sword fight.

Danny-boy leaned back in his chair, tipping the front legs off the deck, and closed his eyes. Kristof and I crept along the shore, keeping out of the guard’s sight in case he opened his eyes. I considered blinding him, but if he did open his eyes, he’d panic and know something was wrong.

We reached the dock. The slap of the waves against the boat’s hull covered our footsteps as we trod across the wooden boards. We made it all the way up the gangplank and the guard didn’t so much as twitch.

“Asleep?” I mouthed to Kristof.

He waggled his hand, giving it fifty/fifty odds. Then he motioned for me to circle around and approach the guard from the rear. I had taken one step in that direction when the guard let out a soft sigh.

“Are you guys almost on deck?” he said, eyes still closed. “Take much longer and I really will fall asleep.”

Kristof charged, sword raised. The guard sprang to his feet and feinted out of Kris’s path. I swung behind the cabin before he saw me. As Kristof wheeled, the guard yanked his cutlass from his belt. He parried Kris’s first thrust, but missed the second and danced out of the way seconds before being slashed.

The two men sparred for a minute. Kristof was obviously the better swordsman, but the smaller man had an easy agility that kept him out of sword’s reach. Finally, when the guard’s back was to me, I slid from my hiding place and pressed the tip of my cutlass between his shoulder blades.

“Take another step and I’ll skewer you like a shish kebab,” I said. “Won’t hurt, but it could be damned uncomfortable.”

He glanced over his shoulder, gave me a slow once-over, and smiled.