Despite this, Wally stroked noticeably harder, which, combined with the current, moved the skiff along at a brisk pace, raising a breeze in their faces.

“Langdon Bridge approaching,” Etcher announced.

Arista saw it towering above them as they rushed toward it. Massive pillars of stone blocks formed the arches supporting the bridge, whose broad span straddled the river eight stories above. She could barely make out the curved heads of the decorative swan-shaped streetlamps that lit the bridge, creating a line of lights against the starry sky.

“There are men up there,” Royce said, “and Price wasn’t kidding about them having crossbows.”

Wally glanced over his shoulder and peered up at the bridge before regarding Royce curiously. “What are ya, part owl?”

“Stop paddling and shut up!” Etcher ordered, and Wally pulled his oars out of the water.

They floated silently, propelled by the river’s current. In the swan lights, the men on the span soon became visible, even to Arista. A dark boat on a black river would be hard, but not impossible, to spot. The skiff started to rotate sideways as the current pushed the stern. A nod from Wally prompted Hadrian to compensate with the tiller and the boat straightened.

Light exploded into the night sky. A bright orange-and-yellow glow spilled onto the bridge from somewhere on the left bank. A warehouse was on fire. It burst into flame, spewing sparks skyward like a cyclone of fireflies. Silhouetted figures ran the length of the bridge and harsh shouts cut the stillness of the night.

“Now paddle!” Etcher ordered, and Wally put his back into it.

Arista used the opportunity to glance aft and now she also saw the wherry, illuminated by the fire from above. The approaching boat was a good fifteen feet in length and she guessed barely four feet across. Four men sat in two side-by-side pairs, each manning an oar. Besides the oarsmen, there were a man sitting in the stern and another at the bow with a grappling hook.

“I think they mean to board us,” Arista whispered.

“No,” Royce said. “They’re waiting.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t intend to find out. Give us as much distance as you can, Wally.”

“Slide over, pal. Let me give you a hand,” Hadrian told the boatman as he took up a seat beside him. “Arista, take the tiller.”

The princess replaced Hadrian, grabbing hold of the wooden handle. She had no idea what to do with it and opted for keeping it centered. Hadrian rolled up his sleeves and, bracing his feet against the toggles, took one of the oars. Royce slipped off his cloak and boots and dropped them onto the floor of the boat.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Etcher told him. “We’ve still got another bridge to clear.”

“Just make sure you get them past the South Bridge and we’ll be fine,” Royce said. “Now, gentlemen, if you could put a little distance between us.”