“He tells me you were instrumental in getting Royce and Hadrian on board, and even after the unexpected sinking of the Emerald Storm, your quick thinking saved the ship’s orders and the mission. I’m especially impressed by how you won over Royce’s trust—no small feat, I might add. You must be a very convincing fellow, as demonstrated by how you persuaded the Port Authority that Royce and Hadrian were in Tur Del Fur to destroy Drumindor. I’m convinced it’s only by your skill and intelligence that the operation was such a wonderful success.”

Merrick took a sip from his cider and sat back with a grin. “I have just one question. Do you know where Royce and Hadrian are now?”

“Dead. By the Ghazel or the Tur Del Fur officials, whoever got them first.”

“Hmm, I doubt that. Royce is not easy to kill. He has gotten out of much more difficult situations before. I would say he leads a charmed life, but I know all too well what kind of life he’s lived. Still, I wouldn’t even trust Death to bind him long.”

“I want my daughter—now,” Wyatt said quietly through clenched teeth.

“Of course, of course. Mr. Poe, would you be so kind as to run up and bring her down? Third door on the left.” Merrick handed him a key. “Seriously, Wyatt, you’re a very capable man. I could use you.”

“Do you think I liked doing this? How many hundreds of people are dead because of me?”

“Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as a job, an assignment, which you performed with panache. I don’t see talent such as yours often, and I could find other uses of your skills. Join with me and you’ll be well compensated. I’m working on another project now, for an even more lucrative employer, and I’m in a position to make a great many good things happen for you. You and your daughter can live like landed gentry. How would you like your own estate?”

“You kidnapped my daughter. The only business I’m interested in doing with you is arranging your death.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Ah, see? Here she is now. Safe and sound.”

Poe escorted a little girl down the steps. She was around ten years old, her light-brown hair was tied in a bow, and she wore an elegantly tailored blue dress with fine leather shoes.

“Daddy!” she shouted.

Wyatt rushed over, throwing his arms around her. “Did they hurt you, honey?”

“No, I’m okay. They bought me this pretty dress and got me these shoes! And we played games.”

“That’s good, honey.” Turning to Merrick, Wyatt asked, “What about Elden?”

“He’s fine, still in Colnora. Waiting for you, I presume. Wyatt, you really need to consider my offer, if for no other reason than your own safety.”