That commotion at the other end of the docks sounded like it was heating up. Mihail straightened up enough to peer over the top of the crates. Warriors forming a circle around someone. A buzz of angry voices—a low sound slowing gaining in volume as more sailors and dock workers moved closer to whatever was happening.

Mihail crouched again, shifting the heavy leather satchel slung over one shoulder—a twin to the one on Craig’s shoulder. How had the man managed to walk to Seahaven carrying both satchels? “I never realized ledgers were so heavy,” he muttered.

For a moment, a smile eased Craig’s grim expression. “There’s only one ledger in that bag. One that’s any use to the family anyway. The other three are hollowed out and filled with the last of the gold and silver I had in the family coffers at the warehouse. That’s why it’s so heavy.”

Mihail rested his forehead against the crates. “Mother’s tits. Did you think to bring a clean shirt and another pair of socks?”

“They’re in this bag. Isn’t my fault you grabbed the heavier one.”

Mihail just shook his head, then turned a little to study the dock where Sweet Selkie was moored. The docking ropes were untied. Two of his men stood at the bow, playing out rope that had been slipped through a dock ring, letting the ship ease back with the tide. His orders to his first mate had been clear. They sailed with the tide, with or without him. The gangplank had been withdrawn. Now only a board wide enough for a nimble man’s feet was being balanced by another member of his crew so that it wouldn’t scrape on the dock and draw someone’s attention.

He noticed the way the men kept glancing around, searching for some sign of him while trying not to look like they were searching for someone. And he noticed the sea hawk perched on the end of the dock, watching his ship.

Another one glided low over the water and looked at the stern, as if trying to read the ship’s name under the mud he’d smeared over it to hide it.

But hawks couldn’t read.

Unless they weren’t hawks.

A shiver went through him. Hope. Fear. He wasn’t sure.

“The tide’s going out,” he said. “We have to go now while we can.”

“The guards will spot us.”

“No choice. Come on.”

They stood up in time to see a merchant captain break free of the circle of warriors and run for his ship.

“I’m an honest merchant!”

Ubel stared at the sweating, shaking man. “If that is true, you’ll have no objection to my warriors searching your ship to confirm that.”

“I-I carry nothing that would interest the Inquisitors.”