‘One has had a certain success,’ Lycien said deprecatingly. He smiled. ‘Besides, I save enough in moorage fees to offset more than the cost of keeping the place up.’ He looked around. ‘Why don’t you and I step into that tavern over there, Sir Sparhawk?’ he suggested. ‘The independent sea captains favour that one.’

‘All right,’ Sparhawk agreed.

‘I’ll introduce you as Master Cluff,’ Lycien said as he swung down from his bay. ‘It’s not much of a name, I’ll admit, but it’s fairly nondescript, and I’ve discovered that seafaring men love to talk, but they’re not always very selective in their choice of listeners. I’ve gathered that you might prefer to keep this business of yours more or less confidential.’

‘You’re perceptive, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied, also dismounting. ‘This shouldn’t take too long,’ he said to Kurik and Sephrenia.

‘Isn’t that what you said the last time you went to Rendor?’ Kurik asked him.

‘We can all hope that this time might be different.’

Lycien led the way into a rather sedate wharfside tavern. The ceiling was low, with dark, heavy beams decorated here and there with ships’ lanterns. There was a broad window near the front, and golden morning sunlight streamed in through it, setting the fresh straw on the floor to gleaming. Several substantial-looking men of middle years sat at a table by the window, talking over brimming tankards. They looked up as the marquis led Sparhawk to their table. ‘My Lord,’ one of them respectfully greeted Lycien.

‘Gentlemen,’ Lycien said, ‘this is Master Cluff, an acquaintance of mine. He’s asked me to introduce him.’

They all looked at Sparhawk inquiringly.

‘I have a bit of a problem, gentlemen,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘May I join you?’

‘Have a seat,’ one of the sea captains, a solid-looking man with silver-shot hair, invited.

‘I’ll leave you gentlemen then,’ Lycien said. ‘There’s something that needs my attention.’ He inclined his head slightly, turned, and went back out of the tavern.

‘He probably wants to see if there’s some way he can raise the mooring fees,’ one of the captains said wryly

‘My name’s Sorgi,’ the captain with the curly hair introduced himself to Sparhawk. ‘What’s this problem you mentioned, Master Cluff?’

Sparhawk coughed slightly as if a little embarrassed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it all started a few months ago. I happened to hear about a lady who lives not far from here,’ he began, embellishing as he went along. ‘Her father is old and very wealthy, so the lady stands to inherit a sizeable estate. One of my problems has always been the fact that I have some expensive tastes and very little in my purse to support them. It occurred to me that a rich wife might solve that problem.’

‘That makes sense,’ Captain Sorgi said. ‘That’s about the only reason I can think of for getting married at all.’