He chuckled. “That depends on whether you’re looking for divine help. No one is an unbeliever in the eye of a storm.”
There was something in his smile that I didn’t like. Some lingering touch at the corners of his lips that told me there was more to his story than he was telling me.
He turned back to the stones. “But these stones show sailors something else.”
“What’s that?”
“The capital,” he told me as he swept an arm ahead of us. “And there it is.”
I stood to get a better look, and my eyes widened. We sailed around a particularly large crag, and a huge island appeared in front of us. The land mass was at least a hundred times larger than Rynek and three times taller. There were also little, plant-covered islands that protruded from the larger island, creating a messy archipelago of life.
The main island was covered by a large city that stretched up its main slope to a flat top once occupied by a volcanic cone, but long blown away during some terrible eruption. The great distance between us meant I couldn’t make out any fine details, but I could see many tall buildings with white stone walls and even some kind of tower situated in the center of the metropolis.
The bustle of ant-like people along the streets was matched and surpassed by the busy wharf. Hundreds of ships of all sizes and varieties were anchored in the huge bay or at the docks. Tens of thousands of pounds of goods moved in and out of the dozens of warehouses that stretched along the shore.
“Captain,” Fidel called from the wheel deck. “Shall we anchor here?”
“Around the far side of the crag,” Marc answered before he turned his attention back to me. “Now we wait for the signal.”
I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
“My handsome features precede me, and the Admiralty is looking for you,” he pointed out as he folded his arms. “We can’t just go strolling in there without special passage. Once there, we’ll have to disguise ourselves.”
There was something in his voice I didn’t like. “As what?”
“As husband and wife with an adorable baby on the way.”
Chapter 2
“I won’t do it!”
The protests came from Ramaro as he sat on the crate on the deck. His tail swished to and fro behind him, and his tongue flicked out every three seconds. “You can’t make me!”
Marc stood over him with his arms folded over his chest. “As your captain, I could make you walk the plank into the deep.”
“I’d rather have that than go along with your plan!”
I raised my hand. “I’m not so sure about this, either.”
The weakening late-afternoon sun shone down on us as the Tempest rocked up and down on the waves. Her anchor was down and her sails were lowered, leaving the crew little to do but to lie about on the deck and bask in the sun. The ship was anchored close to one of the larger crags, and the island city was hidden from view as we were concealed from it.
Marc shrugged. “Very well. He can stay on the ship and hunt the mice.”
Ramaro’s tail struck the rear of the crate. “Why can’t I just hide in a hood or a bag?”
“Hoods bring attention, and the Sylvaris Nightshade guild works their ‘magic’ in the capital.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “The what guild?”
“Sylvaris Nightshade,” Marc repeated for me. “They’re a group of expert thieves who operate in the capital and surrounding islands.”
“Does the Admiralty allow that?”
A faint smile slipped onto his lips. “They don’t have a choice. The guild members are professionally trained and suicidally loyal. Everyone who’s been captured by their enemies has committed suicide.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Everyone?”
“Everyone.”
