White Road

Seregil told him.
    “Fair enough.” Rhal was used to secrets. “It’s been a long time since you’ve called for me.”
    “We had a bit of trouble.”
    “You have a ‘bit of trouble’ more often than not,” Rhal noted as he led them belowdecks to the small guest cabin. “What was it this time? Angry wizards? Plots against the queen? An outraged wife? Or did you get caught in the wrong house with your fingers in the jewel box?”
    “Slavery, actually,” Alec told him.
    Rhal shook his head. “Well, that’s a new one.”
    “You are lords and thieves?” asked Rieser.
    “Depends on the company,” Seregil replied.
    Their cabin was more luxurious than Alec recalled. The wide bunk was fitted out with a red velvet coverlet with silver fringe, and an ornate lantern on the hook overhead cast fretwork shadows across the small polished table, the velvet tufted chairs, and the silver cups and crystal decanter in a fancy leather box on the narrow sideboard.
    “What happened here?” asked Seregil. “It looks like a Street of Lights whorehouse.”
    “We’ve had good fishing,” Rhal replied with a wink as he poured them cups of fine Zengati brandy.
    “So Dani said. Have you given the queen her share?”
    “Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep the best back for myself. And you, of course, as our patron. I’ve sent your share in coin to your man in Wheel Street.”
    “Thank you.”
    Alec knew that Seregil never asked for an accounting; he had more gold than he knew what to do with in various Rhíminee money houses, under various names. He did the same with clothing and traveling gear; he had caches all over the city in sewer tunnels and abandoned houses, always ready for a quick change or escape.
    Rhal and Rieser remained standing as the others found places on the room’s two chairs and the bed. “So, where are we bound this time?”
    “Riga,” Alec told him.
    Rhal raised an eyebrow. “That’s a tall order. The Overlord has half his navy anchored there, and most of the ships are full of marines.”
    “You can put us ashore outside the city where you’ll draw less attention,” said Seregil.
    “It still means changing the sails. We’ll have to put in at one of the Strait Isles for at least a day.” He’d captured a set of striped Plenimaran sails soon after the
Lady
first sailed and often used them to slip into enemy waters. “I can have you across in a week, if the winds cooperate. In the meantime, if the shape in that bag of yours is what I think it is,perhaps you and Lord Alec can provide us with some entertainment during the crossing.”
    Seregil reached into the bag at his feet and took out the harp Adzriel had given him. He plucked a few notes and grimaced. “After a bit of tuning.”
    Alec reached into his own bag and took out one of the iron collars. “We need another of these, too.”
    “I’ve got a collection of them, taken off the poor bastards we found on some of the ships we’ve taken,” said Rhal. “Now, for accommodations. There isn’t room for all of you in here.”
    “I’ll berth with the crew, if they have an extra hammock,” said Micum.
    “There’s no need for that. Take the third cabin, next to mine.”
    “I will sleep on the deck,” Rieser told him.
    “You don’t know ships,” said Micum. “You’d be lucky not to get washed overboard if a storm comes up. You take the cabin. I’ll stay with the crew.”
    Alec couldn’t tell if Rieser was more surprised by Micum or himself as he nodded slightly and muttered, “Thank you.”
    Morthage had a been a crew member on the
Lady
for over a year now, and liked his captain and the work. So he felt a bit guilty as he slipped below to his billet and took out one of the bespelled message sticks his other employer supplied him with. Breaking it, he whispered, “Lord Seregil and Alec have returned to the ship—”
    When he was done, a little ball of magic light sped away through the thick planking of the hull.

CHAPTER 24
Return to a Dead Man’s house
    T HE SHIP’S lantern swung on its hook as Ilar clung to the heavy bench fixed to the floor beside the little table in Ulan’s cabin. The
White Seal
was a large merchant ship, broad in the beam and built to cross stormy seas, but the rolling of the floor under his feet was still alarming. The rains had come their second day out from Virésse—and the swells that had kept Ilar bent over the rail for most of that day, until he grew accustomed to the rocking