Terrowyn scratched her head. She didn’t have time to fix the problems of every poor bugger in the Codpiece, but there were times when she felt responsible for the decent, hard-working people she’d known over the turns. “Can ya bring Heben to th’ Temple’s back gate? Say around eight bells?”

  “Aye.” He narrowed his eyes and watched her a moment. “What ye be thinkin’, Guardian?”

  She stepped close and held her finger in his face. “Ye’ll need to keep yer mouth shut about it, but one of th’ healers is a good friend of mine, and I think she’ll help yer Heben if we can do it on th’ sly. Tell no one, just come to th’ back gate, and we’ll see what we can do about that arm, aye?”

  Resting an elbow in his hand, the old man rubbed his hoary brows, closing his eyes and humming a moment while he thought. After a short time, he crossed both arms over his chest. “Folks’ll be wonderin’ if we just walk up to th’ gate with no business to be there. Yer stable master, Kemi, ordered two half barrels fer those new stalls she built. I think eight bells might be th’ perfect time to make a delivery, don’t you?”

  Terrowyn raised brows and nodded. The people in the Codpiece were well used to having to work around the system. It seemed that all of the rules and cultural norms were put in place to specifically hold the poor people down. Not that Master Erlong was poor exactly, but he wasn’t rich, either. If he were, he wouldn’t have his shop on Coral Lane in the middle of the Codpiece. “I think that’s a perfect time fer a delivery. Now. Ya need yer sleep. Ya have a cot in th’ back, aye?”

  “Aye. I’m that worn out. I’ll douse th’ torches and see ya at eight bells, Guardian. And thank ya. I owe ya.”

  “No favors unless it’s to help some pidge in trouble someday. And, if ya might keep yer ears and eyes open fer Ghost. That’d be thanks enough.” Watching him move unsteadily around the shop, she wondered how long it would be before the Goddess called him home to his final rest.

  CHAPTER 2

  Terrowyn left the shop and continued down Coral Lane, gradually making her way to the port where, at her request, the Port master had been keeping an eye out for Ghost. He’d developed a liking for the little imp and often left a broom at the base of his gangplank so she could sweep off the dock in front of his ship and earn a copper to feed herself for a few days.

  The buildings became larger the closer she came to the water, and the smell of the salty sea filled the air. Up ahead, lantern light shone through the slits surrounding one of the second-story doors of a granary, and she decided that’s where she’d visit next. The warehouse, one of the largest on Coral Lane, was a square five-story grey-block edifice. The first two floors had six arched doors each, with the ones on the first opening onto the street while those on the second allowed access to the six attached balconies. The third floor had five rectangular windows facing the street. Beginning at the fourth floor, the roof slanted inward in a snaggle-tooth pattern. This floor had two windows, and the one above that, where the pitched roof ended, only had room for one.

  Moving from one arched doorway to the next, Terro tried the first four doors and found them all locked. When she pressed down on the thumb latch of the fifth, however, it only took a slight push for the door to squeak open on its hinges. She stepped into the darkened building and called out, “Temple guard. Anyone in the granary?”

  With the moon hiding behind the low-lying clouds, walking down the lane had been treacherous enough. Roaming through the pitch-black interior of the unlit warehouse was nothing short of foolhardy. Nevertheless, she moved to the side of the open door so as not to be silhouetted by the scant outdoor light filtering through it.

  It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps on the floor above, and a man called out, “Aye?” To the right of the door, a stairway led up to the second floor.

  As Terrowyn stared up into the darkness, torchlight flickered against the upper walls. It began as a faint glow but grew more pronounced as its bearer moved closer to the top of the stairs. A man’s booted legs appeared first. Thick calves filled a pair of ill-kept, brown leather boots that ran to the man’s knees. The rest of his body was obscured by the first-floor ceiling bracketing the top of the stairwell in a four-sided, rectangular opening. As he descended, the rest of his legs and, eventually, his body and head came into view.

  Although she didn’t remember his name, Terrowyn recognized the nob as one of the many trib runners she’d dealt with on earlier occasions. These were the nobs and pidges who rowed the boats up and down the tributaries of the Empire. The man glared down at her as he lazily clomped down wooden steps. An ill-fitting tunic strained at his big belly and barrel chest. He’d done a sloppy job of removing the tunic’s sleeves, exposing hairy muscular arms covered by a layer of fat and old, faded tattoos.

  Terrowyn noticed a small, circular mark on his forearm, and when the trib saw her studying it, he crossed his arms to cover it up. “Keep yer nose outta me business, ya fowkin’ wench.” It was when he crossed his arms that Terro noticed the short slice down the side of his tunic. There was also a small patch of blood on the filthy material and two red lines near the waistband of his trews where blood had leaked down.

  Behind him, a second light flickered, and another pair of legs began their descent. When that man’s head emerged, she recalled seeing him working near one of the riverboats. His boots, moderately better maintained than his companions, were black with crisscrossing ties running up the outer leather shaft from his ankles to the bottoms of his knees. His dark green trews were the typical loose canvas preferred by rivermen, and his black tunic fit moderately well across a chest made broad by turns of working the river.

  The man stopped midway down the stairs, recognized Terro, and glanced around, obviously checking to see if any other guardians were close by. Seeing she was alone, he continued down and spoke to the first trib as he descended. “You get on back to th’ boat now, Benlin. I’ll be makin’ me way there myself soon as I speak with th’ Guardian here.”

  The first trib glared at Terro and then rudely brushed into her as he stepped past.

  Planting her feet, Terro grabbed the torch and shoved him away. “Ya won’t be needin’ this when ya get out into th’ street.”

  The trib’s lip lifted in a snarl, and although her shove had moved him back a few steps, he still held on to the wooden shaft.

  Both held a portion of the torch now, and Terro glared up into his pockmarked face.

  The captain barked at the trib. “Leave it. I said get back to the boat. Now.”

  Terro smelled rum on the trib’s breath and drew her knife from its sheath. “You’d do well to listen to yer captain unless you’d like me to feed yer naggles to ya one ball at a time.”

  The man released the torch with a growl and a shove. His swagger was more pronounced than before as he unhurriedly made his way out the door.

  The captain strode forward and slid his torch into a sconce on the wall. Sounding unconcerned, he turned and nodded to Terrowyn. “How can I help ya, Guardian?”

  Knowing she might need both of her hands free, Terro placed her torch in a second sconce near the door. “What’s a riverboat captain doing on his own in a granary warehouse in th’ middle of th’ night? Where’s th’ miller? Upstairs?”

  “Master Craine gave me th’ key, knowing I’d be coming in late, didn’t he? Didn’t want to meet me at this time of night, did he?” He held up a ring with two heavy metal keys attached. “He left it hidden in a jug behind th’ warehouse.”

  Without asking permission, Terro jerked the ring from the man’s grasp and, keeping him in sight, stepped to the door and slotted the skeleton key into the lock. She twisted to the right, and the deadbolt slid out of the mortise plate. With a quick twist to the left, the bolt retreated. She retrieved the key but didn’t hand it back. “I know the master here, Capt.…?”

  “Marshman.” He glanced down at the ring and then, not wanting her to think it mattered overly much, quickly averted his gaze.

  It was obvious to someone like Terrowyn that the question made him nervous. She’d survived for turns in the Codpiece by being hyper-aware of people’s habits and reactions. All of her instincts were telling her not to return the keys, and while she’d momentarily debated the question, his furtive glance decided her.

  With an alligator grin, she slipped the metal ring around her wrist. “I hope, for yer sake, you and yer man were in here on legitimate business, Captain Marshman. If someone from th’ shop isn’t here by th’ time I go off shift, I’ll leave th’ keys with th’ city guard. And, I’ll be sure to give them yer regards.”

  His eyes nervously flicked to the ring again. “That won’t be necessary, Guardian. I told the master I’d lock up, and I’d just as soon be th’ one responsible for those keys.”

  “Necessary or not, I’ll be keeping them. What’s th’ name of your riverboat again? I know I’ve seen ya at th’ docks before.”

  “My boat’s the Black Swan, Guardian.” He tried to bluster his way into getting back the keys. Holding out a hand, he pulled himself to his full height, which brought him to half a head taller than Terrowyn. “I’ll be taking those keys, Guardian. What happens here is none of yer business nor th’ business of th’ Temple Guards.”

  Terrowyn slipped the ring off her wrist and tucked it down the back of her trews. She very slowly drew her sword and held it down next to her leg. “Ye’ll be leavin’ now, Captain, without the keys. If you’d care to try to take them, I think ye’ll get quite the surprise.” Holding her knife in her off-hand and the sword in the other, she set herself into a defensive position.

  The man’s gaze traveled from the knife, across her broad shoulders, and down to the sword she expertly held at the ready. Terrowyn had a fierce reputation among the rivermen, and he cocked his head to the side, considering. “Ye be Guardian Keavey Terrowyn, Aye?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’m not lookin’ to get on the bad side of th’ Blades, Guardian. But I’ll remember th’ insult, all th’ same.”

  “And well, ya should, Captain.”

  The fierce and almost eager look in her eyes is what finally decided him. With a poisonous glare of his own, he followed his friend out.

  Terrowyn sheathed her weapons and closed the door behind him. She turned the lock until she felt the bolt slip into place. Not knowing if there were other people in the building, she grabbed a torch and cautiously climbed the stairs to the second level.

  The captain had been correct. Normally, as a Blade, what happened in the warehouse was none of her business. However, it was a common practice for slavers to use warehouses to hold their stock until it was time for the auctions, and she needed to search the vast interior on the off-chance Ghost was part of that stock.

  When she reached the second floor, the cavernous space was in complete darkness, except for the small arc of light thrown off by her torch. Realizing she was on a fool’s errand doing this on her own, she retraced her steps and once more set the torch in a sconce near the door. Letting herself out, she pulled the door closed, locked it, and went in search of Geller.

  It took a good half candlemark to return to the outstation where Geller did most of her administrative work. Terrowyn found her seated in her office, going over the previous night’s reports.

  Geller placed a finger on the line where she’d been reading and glanced up at her Senior Guardian.

  The glance was all the permission Terrowyn needed to speak, and she filled the Prime in on what she discovered and why she needed to search the building.

  Geller thought a moment and then nodded. “If it was anyone but you, I’d say leave it to th’ city guard. But I know how important Ghost is to ya and how many places ya searched fer the skelli these last few nights.”

  The distinctive squeak of the door opening from the outside into the briefing room reached their ears, and they heard Jenx speaking to her trainee shiv, Ailith. “If you think there’s something suspicious going on, slow things down and stop whatever’s happening. Then, you can figure out what’s wrong and move forward from there. You should’ve seen that punch coming, and I’m not gonna say I feel sorry for you for taking it, either. When you’re a full blade, if you’re out there on your own and you take a punch like that, you won’t always have somebody to back you up. You need to think when you’re out there, Ailith.”

  Geller sat back and crossed her arms. Shaking her head, she mumbled, “Fowkin’ shivs. Why can’t they all just come fully trained, eh? Sometimes I wonder how any of ‘em ever survive long enough to become a Blade.” She rose, and Terrowyn followed her into the briefing room.

  One of the newest trainees was standing over the sink, wiping smears of blood from her face.

  Her handler, Blade Jenx, looked at the Prime and rolled her eyes. “She’ll live.”

  Ailith turned towards them, and both women could see that her nose was slightly canted to the side.

  Terrowyn growled and shook her head. “Ah, fer th’ love of th’ Goddess.” She stalked over and put her hands on either side of Ailith’s nose. “Hold still.” With a jerk, accompanied by a loud crack, she expertly straightened Ailith’s broken nose.

  The blood drained from Ailith’s face, and her knees buckled. Terro grabbed her tunic in a two-fisted hold and growled. “Stand on your own two feet, ya skut-brained shiv. Ya gonna pass out in th’ middle of a fight? Good way to die, that.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, Ailith gathered herself and came to attention. “Aye, Senior Guardian Terrowyn.” Still a bit dizzy from the pain of Terrowyn’s not-so-gentle ministrations, she pulled in several deep breaths and, to her great relief, remained standing.

  Geller motioned to the door. “The two of you, come with us.” Without any further explanation, she walked out the door with Terrowyn close on her heels.

  Not daring to ask any questions, the other two quickly fell in behind.

  CHAPTER 3

  Terrowyn slotted the skeleton key into the lock. She had to jiggle it several times and slam her shoulder into the door to get the bolt to move, but eventually, they heard the distinctive sound of metal sliding against metal as the bolt withdrew. She depressed the thumb latch and listened to the hinges squeak as she pushed the door open. The light from the two already-lit torches allowed her to see that no one was waiting in ambush, and she stepped inside and slid a torch out of a sconce.

  Geller had stopped on the way to purchase three extra torches, two of which Terrowyn lit with her flame. Geller handed one to Jenx, kept another, and motioned for Ailith to grab the second torch hanging on the wall.

  Ailith watched as the Prime walked a complete circuit around the cavernous room. To the left, she passed what must have been fifty overstuffed grain sacks leaning one against the other, five deep and two high.

  Terrowyn motioned for Jenx and Ailith to wait while she moved around to the right. Her side held barrels, most of which had The Brown Barrel stenciled across their bulging middles. As she bypassed the stairs the trib runners had descended, her flame clearly illuminated three barrels ahead, but any further, and the containers began to take on the deceptive shapes of big-bellied men crouching in wait. The building was deep and cavernous, and as Ailith swiveled her head between Geller and Terrowyn, the darkness closed in behind them.

  Geller must have realized the same because she called out. “Terro, hold.”

  Terrowyn stopped and waited to see what the Prime intended.

  Motioning back toward Jenx and her shiv, Geller said, “Ailith with me, Jenx, with Terrowyn. Ya keep yer eyes movin’, coverin’ our backs in case we miss a nob hidin’ somewhere we can’t see.”

  Normally, Ailith would have jogged forward to take up her position, but before she moved, Jenx whispered, “Walk and move with caution. None of us are in a hurry, and being too quick will get you killed. And hold your torch high or to the side, not directly in front of your face.”

  Ailith copied what Geller had done as she’d passed the sacks, occasionally prodding one or another with her toe to make sure they contained grain and not, say, the body of someone lying in wait. She wondered whether the irascible Prime would growl at her for being slow, but even though the stocky Blade’s perpetual glare was locked firmly in place when she turned to check the shiv’s progress, Ailith thought she detected a barely perceptible nod when she met her gaze.

  Geller moved forward when the light from Ailith’s torch touched her.

  Keeping her head on a swivel, Ailith mostly watched behind and to the sides, letting Geller take care of what lay ahead. The rows of sacks gave way to neatly stacked rectangular trunks piled two high against the wall, with a single trunk on the floor immediately in front. Each flat-topped container had silver metal bars running along the top front edge and a square, hinged box lock securing the lid to another bar attached to the body.

  Geller tugged on the first trunk’s lid, making sure it was secure before moving on. With a tap on the next trunk and a jerk of her wrist, she indicated Ailith should hop onto the lids of the ones on the floor to check the locks of those stacked behind them against the wall.

  Understanding that a trunk might be a perfect hiding place for a would-be assassin, Ailith immediately jumped up and dutifully began tugging on every lock she passed.

  Without looking back, Geller growled, “Don’t forget to guard our backsides, too, ya skut-brained shiv.”

  Blushing slightly at the fact that she had, indeed, forgotten to watch behind them, Ailith obediently turned and peered into the thick darkness that had closed in behind them as they’d moved forward. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the impenetrable black void beyond the range of her torch.

  She gasped as a sharp pain raced up her thigh. It was the familiar, accompanying thwack of the flat of Geller’s blade against her backside that made her realize she wasn’t under attack but was instead being taught an immediate and lasting lesson in Blade survival.