I reach for it, but Lochlan takes both glasses and moves them out of reach. “No. One was a terrible idea. You don’t need two.”
“Those are mine,” I growl.
He leans very close. “Quit stalling.”
I set my jaw, but there’s nothing to say. He’s right. I am stalling. I’ve felt his judgment all day, but being confronted with this accusation makes me feel like a coward, too.
By morning, I have to prove my claims to Oren, or that cage will be the least of my worries. I can’t let Rian get a hold of me, or he really will use me against Harristan. He kept Oren’s daughter locked up on his ship; I have no doubt he’d do the same thing to me if it meant he could trade me for steel.
As usual, I’ve been backed into a corner, and the only way out is violence. It’s not fair that an innocent man has to die because of it.
I reach into my pocket and pull out our last coin.
Lochlan snatches it right out of my hand. “No more drinking.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
He glares at me and holds it up anyway, the piece of silver glinting in the night. The barkeep sees itimmediatelyand begins to sashay in our direction.
“So you’re getting some for yourself?” I say.
“No. I’m getting information.”
I scoff and reach for one of the glasses he pushed away, and he smacks my wrist. By the time the barkeep is in front of us again, we’re glaring at each other, and it’s a miracle I haven’t punched him in the face.
But the girl’s smile is bright, and she’s looking at Lochlan. “Ready for more?”
“No,” he says curtly, and her smile falters. “We came herebecause we’ve heard there’s a man at the docks who can get a message to Galen Redstone. What do you know about that?”
The smile has completely fallen off her face, and she glances past us. I can’t tell if she’s worried about other patrons or if his gruff manner is about to chase her away. Likely both.
If Lochlan ever had to come to court, he’d probably end up in a dozen fistfights within an hour.
I clap him on the shoulder and give her a knowing look. “Forgive his rudeness,” I say mildly. Then I beckon her closer and whisper loudly, “He can’t hold his liquor.”
She giggles. The smile is back.
While I’m leaning forward, I say, “We really do need to know how to send a message, though. If you had any information to share, I’d be rather grateful.”
“You’d have to speak to the harbormaster about posting messages to Fairde.” She tucks a lock of hair behind one ear and takes the coin from between Lochlan’s fingers, but her eyes are on me now. “They lock up the docks at midnight, though, unless you have a license. The harbormaster tucks in well before then, so you might need to wait till morning. But if you head that way, the night watchman might let you talk to the bookkeeper. He’ll sometimes post messages if the harbormaster is gone for the night.”
“The bookkeeper,” I say.
“Yes. He does the receipts and ledgers for the dock. His name is Cheeke.” She pauses. “Just be careful. The docks are dangerous at night.” She leans in so close that I can feel her breath against my cheek. “Crane’s people are everywhere. They watch to see who goes to see Cheeke. If your message is very private, someone might take it off your hands first.”
“Thank you,” I say.
She kisses me on the cheek like the woman in the clothier’s shop did. “My thanks go to Kandala,” she says. “A lot of people don’t trust your country, but if you and your king can find a way to help us rebuild, I know ours will be grateful.”
That makes my heart give a twist. She turns away before I can say anything else.
Lochlan is staring at me.
“You scoff at manners,” I say. “But they serve a purpose.”
That makes him scowl. “Learn anything good?”
“I know what we need to do. Let’s go.”
