Chapters (4)
From Wharf Street he could see the black castle once more, through the masts and stays of countless ships. It seemed to have gotten the worst of the exchange, which had died away. Thick, black smoke boiled out of the fortress, an oily column leaning a few degrees and rising thousands of feet, then spreading in a dark haze. On the slopes below the castle there was a twinkling and seething, an anthill-like suggestion of movement. He supposed the Company was hurrying into action.
The waterfront was in a frenzy. The channel boasted a dozen vessels heading out. Every other foreign ship was preparing to sail. The river itself seemed strangely disturbed and choppy.
Shed tried three ships before he found one where money talked loudly enough to be heard. He paid ten leva to a piratical purser and found himself a spot where he would not be seen from shore.
Nevertheless, as the crew were casting off, the man called Pawnbroker came racing along the pier with a squad of soldiers, shouting at the ship's master to hold fast.
The ship's master made an obscene gesture, told them where they could go, and began drifting with the current. There were too few tugs for the number of ships moving out.
For his defiance the skipper got an arrow through the throat. Astonished sailors and officers stood frozen, aghast. Arrows stormed aboard, killed more than a dozen men, including the mate and boatswain. Shed cowered in his hiding place, gripped by a terror deeper than any he had known before.
He had known they were hard men, men who did not play games. He had not realized just how hard they were, how savage they could be. The Duke's men would have thrown up their hands in despair and wandered away cursing. They would not have massacred anyone.
The arrows kept coming, in a light patter, till the vessel was out of range.
Only then did Shed peep out and watch the city dwindle slowly. Oh, slowly, did it drift away.
To his surprise none of the sailors were angry with him. They were angry, true, but had not made a connection between the attack and their last-minute passenger.
Safe, he thought, elated. That lasted till he began to wonder where he was bound and what he would do once he got there.
A sailor called, "Sir, they're coming after us in a launch." Shed's heart dropped to his ankles. He looked and saw a small ship pulling out, trying to put on sail. Men in Black Company uniform abused the crew, hurrying them.
He got back into hiding. After the mauling these men had taken, there was no doubt they would surrender him rather than suffer more. If they realized he was what Pawnbroker wanted.
How had the man picked up his trail?
Sorcery. Of course. Had to be.
Did that mean they could find him anywhere?