Traitor's Moon

the speck of color grew into the distant outline of a red-sailed Skalan warship. The vessel was taking the usual route used by the dispatch couriers.
    â€œThat’s all it may be,” Seregil fretted as they neared the vessel. “She’s alone, not another ship in sight. By the Four, I hope we haven’t been chasing the wrong one!”
    Any fears they might have had about missing the ship in the dark were quickly allayed. The other vessel shifted course, heading directly for them.
    â€œLooks like our luck is holding after all,” Alec said.
    As soon as they were within shouting distance they hailed the vessel and heard their greeting returned. Skimming in close to her side, they found a rope ladder hanging ready and the rail above lined with expectant faces.
    â€œTake this,” Seregil said, handing him a line. “I’ll make this end fast. We don’t want to lose this boat until we’re sure this other is the right one.”
    The ladder swung crazily with the roll of the larger vessel, and Alec was dizzy and bruised by the time he’d fought his way up to the rail. Strong hands grasped him, pulling him the rest of the way. Then, to his considerable surprise, he was thrust forward and dragged to his knees.
    â€œHold on, just let me get—” He tried to rise, only to be pushed down again, harder this time. Looking around, he found himself hemmed in by armed sailors.
    Seregil tumbled down beside him and was kicked flat when he tried to rise. Alec reached for his sword, but Seregil stopped him with a sharp look.
    â€œWe come in the name of Princess Klia and the queen!” he announced, keeping his own hands well clear of his weapons.
    â€œSure you do,” someone growled.
    The crowd parted for a black-haired woman wearing the salt-crusted jerkin of a Skalan naval commander.
    â€œYou’re a long way from shore in that little bean pod of yours,” she said, not smiling.
    â€œWe were sent by Princess Klia to intercept her brother, Prince Korathan,” Seregil explained, clearly mystified by their hostile reception.
    The commander folded her arms, unmoved. “Oh, were you? And where did you learn to speak Skalan so prettily?”
    â€œAt the court of Queen Idrilain, may Sakor welcome her spirit,” Seregil retorted. He tried to rise and was shoved down again. “Listen to me! There isn’t much time. I’m Lord Seregil í Korit, and this is Sir Alec í Amasa of Ivywell. We’re aides to Princess Klia. There’s been trouble and we must speak to Korathan.”
    â€œWhy would Prince Korathan be on my ship?” she demanded.
    â€œIf not yours, then one close behind,” Seregil said, and Alec was dismayed to sense his friend faltering. He looked around quickly, seeking an escape route and finding none. They were still hemmed in by the crew, and there were archers armed and ready along the rail, watching with obvious interest. Even if they did break free, there was nowhere to run.
    â€œLet’s see your proofs, then,” the woman demanded.
    â€œProofs?”
    â€œLetters of passage.”
    â€œOur journey was too dangerous to risk carrying anything written,” Seregil retorted. “The situation in—”
    â€œHow convenient,” she drawled, drawing an ugly laugh from the others. “It looks like we’ve caught ourselves a couple of dirty ’faie spies, lads. What do you say, Methes?”
    The blond sailor at her side favored Alec and Seregil with an unfriendly look. “These fish are mighty small, Captain. Best to gut ’em and throw them back unless they can tell us a better story.” He drew a long knife from his belt and signaled to several other men, who pinned Seregil’s and Alec’s arms. The one called Methes grabbed Seregil by the hair and yanked his head back to bare his throat.
    â€œFor hell’s sake, listen!” snarled Seregil.
    â€œWe are who we say. We can prove it,” Alec cried, struggling now for his life.
    â€œNo one knows Prince Korathan is coming,” the captain told him. “No one could know, except spies. What are you doing here, Aurënfaie? Who sent you?”
    â€œBy the Light, stop this at once!” a man shouted from down the deck.
    A middle-aged man dressed in the frayed robes of an Orëska wizard elbowed his way through the press. His long hair was touched with grey, and he had a burn scar on his left cheek. Alec