“It was a stroke of brilliance appointing Wesley,” Hadrian remarked. “I wish I had thought of it. I like that boy. Did you see the way he picked Staul and Wyatt to go with him? Wyatt knows the docks, and Staul knows the language and possibly the city. Perfectly sensible choices, but they’re also the two who would make the most trouble out of his sight. He’s a lot more like his brother than he thinks. It’s a shame they were born in Chadwick. Ballentyne doesn’t deserve them.”

“It’s not looking good. You know that, right?” Royce asked. “What with the weapons and Merrick’s payment going down with the Storm, and everyone in charge now dead. I don’t see where we go from here.”

Hadrian took a seat on the railing beside Royce. Water lapped against the wooden hull of the tartane and seagulls cried overhead.

“But we still have Merrick’s orders and that letter. What did it say?”

“I didn’t read it.”

“Weren’t you the one who called me stupid because—”

“I never had a chance. Wyatt grabbed them first. Then there was this little incident with a burning ship and lots of swimming. Now Wesley has them and he’s hardly slept. I’ve not had an opportunity.”

“Then we’ll have to stick to that letter until either you get a chance to take a peek or we solve this riddle. I mean, what is the empire doing sending weapons to Calis when they need them to fight the Nationalists?”

“Maybe bribing Calis to join the fight on their side?”

Hadrian shook his head. “Rhenydd could beat them in a war all by itself. There’s no organization down here, no central authority, just a bunch of competing warlords. The whole place is corrupt, and they constantly fight each other. There is no way Merrick could convince enough leaders to go fight for the New Empire—most of these warlords have never even heard of Avryn. And what’s with the elves? What were they doing with them?”

“I have to admit, I’d like to know that myself,” Royce said.

Hadrian’s glance followed Thranic as he came topside and lay among the excess canvas at the bow, his hood pulled down to block the light, his arms folded across his chest. He almost looked like a corpse in need of a coffin.

Hadrian gestured toward the sentinel. “So, what’s going on between you and Thranic, anyway? He appears to really hate you—even more than most people.”

Royce did not look in his direction. He sat nonchalantly, pretending to ignore the world, as if they were the only two aboard. “Funny thing, that. I never met him, never heard of him until this voyage, and yet I know him rather well, and he knows me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Esrahaddon. Can you provide me with perhaps a more cryptic answer?”