Sprite's survivors toward shore. Ruha sat beside Captain Fowler in the front of the boat-it seemed ludicrous to call the square end a bow-scanning the shanty town ahead. Most of the buildings were gray, ramshackle affairs in desperate need of a lime wash. The huts closest to the water hovered above the beach on flimsy stilts that looked ready to pitch their loads into the mud at the slightest push. A half-dozen rickety docks jutted far out into the bay. Two of the piers were empty; the rest bustled with fishermen unloading their take.
As the scow approached shore, Ruha noticed that most of the catch had the same high dorsal fins and wedge- shaped heads as the vicious fish that had swarmed her.
The witch could not even guess how many sharks lay piled upon the piers, but there were close to two-dozen boats unloading the sharp-toothed monsters.
Ruha looked over her shoulder to the scow pilot, a sour-faced man with leathery skin and unkempt gray hair. 'That seems like a great number of sharks. Do the people of Pros eat nothing else?'
'They're not for us,' the pilot replied. 'The Cult of the
Dragon buys all we can take-and it pays mighty well, I'll add.'
Fowler scowled at this. 'What for? Shark's hardly a good-eating fish.'
The pilot shrugged. 'No one knows, and no one's asked. Since the Cult came to town, we've learned to keep our noses out of their business. You'd be wise to do the same.'
The pilot barked a command to his rowers, and the vessel angled toward one of the empty piers. A small gang of shoremen emerged from the shanties and wan- dered down the dock, preparing to unload a cargo the boat did not carry.
Fowler gnashed his tusks, then stood to inspect the small crowd more carefully. 'I don't see Vaerana Hawk- lyn.' He glared down at Ruha's face, veiled behind a beautiful silk scarf given to her by Minister Hsieh, and fingered the Harper's pin fastened inside his robe. 'If she's not here, how doyou plan to pay me?'
'Vaerana will meet us.' The statement was more one of hope than conviction; it had taken the disabled caravel five days to sail the short distance from the battle site to
Pros, putting Ruha ashore four days late. 'And even if she does not, I have been given a local name.'
'Jonas Tempaltar? No cooper I know has the gold to buy a cog.' Fowler cast a longing glance toward the Gin- ger Lady, which still lay anchored in the bay, awaiting a small load of supplies needed to complete her most press- ing repairs. 'It's not too late to go to Ilipur.'
'Captain, if you wish to return to the Ginger Lady alone, perhaps Minister Hsieh will give you the reward.'
'Not bloody likely.' During the voyage to Pros, it had grown apparent that while Hsieh felt indebted to Ruha, he considered Captain Fowler little better than an ani- mal, hardly worthy of notice, and certainly not deserving of reward. 'I'll see my gold from the cooper first.'
The scow scraped over a mud bar, then slowed as it approached the pier. As the stubby vessel drifted along- side the dock, the pilot commanded his crew to raise oars.
The rowers stowed their equipment and threw mooring ropes to the shoremen, who quickly pulled the boat to the dock and tied it to the piles.
A pair of large warriors in steel breastplates stepped forward to peer into the empty hold. Both men wore black caps embroidered with the hastily sewn emblem of a dragon's head.
'No cargo, William?'
The pilot motioned at Ruha and her fellow survivors.
'Only these castaways.' He glanced at the emblem on the warriors' black caps, then added, 'A dragon sank their ship.'
'That so?' The speaker sneered and glanced at his companion. 'That's too bad for them, ain't it, Godfrey?'
Godfrey nodded. 'Terrible, Henry-but they've still got to pay the harbor tax.' He raised a finger and pointed it at each of the survivors. 'Let's see, I count eleven people. That'll be eleven silver.'
'Eleven silver!' Ruha protested. 'That's-'
'That's a sight too much,' Fowler interrupted. He shot Ruha a warning scowl, then motioned at two one- legged sailors who had so far outlived their amputations. 'We lost most of our silver when my ship sank. Besides, you can see some of us aren't whole. We shouldn't have to pay full for them.'
Godfrey eyed the pair's bloody stumps, then laughed heartily. 'Very well, half-fee for the half-men. Ten silver.'
Fowler glanced at the long swords hanging from the men's belts, then spread his hands. 'We cannot pay your price.'
It was a lie, for Ruha still had twenty silver coins that had been inside her aba when the Storm Sprite sank, but she did not contradict the captain.
Fowler reached inside his own tunic and withdrew two coins. 'How about two silver?'
'For two silver, we will not let you spit on the dock.'
This time, it was Henry who spoke.
Fowler shrugged in resignation, then turned away from the two warriors. 'Pros used to be an honest place. I don't know what happened.'
Godfrey peered over the half-ore's shoulder, then motioned to Ruha's jambiya. 'Let me see that knife. Per- haps we can let you ashore in exchange for that and the two silver.'
'No.' Ruha motioned to the coins in Fowler's hands.
'Take those coins or nothing. I will not let you have my jambiya'
Godfrey's eyes hardened, then he and Henry drew their swords. The pilot and his two rowers leapt out of the scow, and the gang of shoremen backed down the pier. Fowler picked up an oar, as did Arvold and two more healthy crewmen. The eyes of the two armored warriors widened at the unanticipated opposition. They glanced around the quay at the smirking faces of the shoremen and the scow crew, then gathered their nerve and stepped to within a pace of the scow.
Godfrey stretched his hand toward Ruha. 'The dagger-and the silver.'
Fowler looked to Ruha.' Tour call Lady Witch.'
'Witch?' The color drained from the faces of both warriors, and Henry whispered, 'Maybe we oughta call for some help.'
Ruha blew a breath into her hands and began the incantation of a wind spell that would silence the men's voices-then abruptly stopped as the clamor of galloping hooves reverberated down the pier. All eyes turned shoreward to see three riders charging down the quay, two holding cocked crossbows in their hands, the third leading a string of empty mounts.
The trio was coming so fast the scow crew and shoremen had to leap off the quay to avoid being ridden down.
Ruha saw that the first rider was a sturdy, florid-faced woman with a flyaway mane of honey-blonde hair. Like her two companions, she wore an indistinct cloak over a coat of chain mail and carried a large mace in a sling on her saddle. The second rider was a grim-jawed man with a drooping black mustache and stony black eyes, while the third was a rotund cleric with the heavy silver chain of a holy symbol showing above his collar. They reined up just short of Godfrey and Henry, and the two with crossbows aimed their weapons at the two ruffians.
Both warriors lowered swords, and Godfrey hissed, 'Vaerana Hawklyn!'
'You know me?' Vaerana asked. 'Too bad for you.'
She shot the man in throat. Her companion did likewise to Henry, drawing a chorus of angry cries from the other quays. Vaerana nonchalantly glanced toward the shouting, then dismounted and stomped to the edge of the pier.
'Sorry we weren't waiting when you docked, Tusks!' she said, grabbing Fowler's hand and pulling him onto the pier. 'We were expecting the Storm Sprite!'
'We had some dragon trouble.' Fowler glanced at the other quays, where dozens of shouting, black-capped war- riors were rushing toward shore, intent on avenging their comrades' deaths. 'Have you lost your mind, Lady Constable?'
Vaerana waved off the captain's concern. 'Don't worry about the Black Caps. They've got a few surprises wait- ing for them.' The Lady Constable turned to Ruha. 'You must be the witch Storm sent me.'
'Ruha of the Mtair Dhafir at your service, Lady Constable.' Ruha glanced at the two corpses lying on the pier.
