The docks of Caer Glas reeked of fish and tar, cut through by the salt-comfort of the sea breeze as the sun bled orange across Myr’s harbor. Bree moved through the docks with purpose, scanning the moored ships until she found what she was looking for. The Black Ballad bobbed gently at anchor, its black sails furled but somehow still managing to look like trouble.

  "Merren!" she called toward the ship. "Get your sorry carcass down here!"

  A dark bird dove straight towards Bree's head and at the last second swooped to the side, landing on one of the posts that lined the edge of the wharf.

  "Briallen Peacham," came a voice from the bird. It sounded exactly like Merren. But it wasn't Merren. The voice was rich with mock surprise and genuine affection. "And here I thought you'd forgotten about your old friend."

  The bird flitted over to Bree’s shoulder and nibbled her ear.

  Bree couldn't help but smile at the Jackdaw despite her exhaustion. "Go fetch Merren, Prattle."

  The bird chirped indignantly and took off toward the ship.

  A moment later, the actual Merren appeared at the rail, silhouetted against the burning sky. Even from a distance, there was something theatrical about the way he moved—a swagger that suggested he was perpetually performing for an audience of one.

  "Briallen Peacham," he called down in his own voice.

  “Briallen Peacham,” Prattle echoed

  "Prattle, you absolute menace—"

  Merren vaulted over the ship's rail with unnecessary flourish, landing on the dock with the kind of graceful stumble that looked accidental but was clearly practiced. He was tall and lean, with sun-weathered skin and dark hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. A weathered tricorn hat sat at a jaunty angle on his head, its ancient ostrich feather drooping sadly, while his coat—once burgundy, now sun-bleached to patchy brown—flapped in the evening breeze.

  "There she is," Merren said with genuine warmth. "Always a sight for sore eyes. You know, I was just telling Prattle—when was it, Tuesday?—anyway, doesn't matter, the point is I said 'That Bree, she only summons me when there's trouble,' and here you are, proving me right again."

  "I know, I know—I only call when there's trouble," Bree said as she embraced him. "And you look terrible, by the way."

  "Charming as ever, love." His smile didn't fade. "Though you look like you've been stress-baking again. What's happened now?"

  "We have a situation. A big one."

  "How big are we talking? Scale of one to 'Merren, you're going to die'?"

  "The kind that requires getting a not-dead king to Eldmere very quickly. With passengers who need to stay unknown."

  Merren studied her face, then sighed. "Right. And I suppose this is somehow my problem because... no, wait, don't tell me—" He gestured dramatically. "Because I'm the only captain mad enough to smuggle a bunch of fugitives and also because you asked, and we both know I can't say no to you."

  "Because you're the only one I trust to get them there alive. And you may be the only specialist in smuggling I know." Bree stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Jorvan's already invaded Eldmere. His ship left two days ago. If we don't get there soon..."

  "Ah." Merren's expression shifted, the theatrical mask slipping. "Invaded. Right. So you need someone foolish enough to sail into occupied territory—which, before you say it, yes, I know, I'm 'the best smuggler you know,' you always say that when you need something impossible done—"

  "Because you are. And I need someone good enough to do it."

  Merren removed his hat, ran his hand through his hair, then settled it back at a different jaunty angle. "Right then. When do we leave?"

  "Yesterday would’ve been great."

  "Understandable request. However, that may be slightly impossible. How about mid-morning as the next best thing?" He settled the hat back on his head. "How many passengers?"

  "Five."

  "And they're being watched and entertained by your children, I assume?"

  "You know me too well."

  "Someone has to." His theatrical mask dropped for just a moment. "I'll get them there, Bree. I promise."

  "Alive, Merren. All of them."

  "I'll get them there alive, breathing, and hopefully not traumatized by Prattle." Then the grin returned. "Well. Mostly not traumatized."

  “We have another problem”

  “What’s that?”

  “Theron is watching the Turnip. Seren and Ink were spotted with the hyena who ‘killed’ our cockatrice king.”

  “That's more than a bit of a problem.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Yeah.” Bree said, wringing her hands. “We may need alternative means of getting them on your ship.”

  “And you're hoping I have a solution?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “I’ll send the dinghy to the tunnel entrance at midnight.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting these outlaws of yours. Tell Seren to be nice to Prattle.”

  Bree sighed, “I’ll try.”

  Merren tipped his hat, and returned to the ship.

  ***

  Cocky, Kith, Seren, Ink, and Dain waited at the tunnel entrance at midnight. The glow of the gibbous moon made the darkness less ominous. It also increased the risk of being seen in the moonlight. The faint reflection of stars on black water mesmerized them as the river lapped quietly against the shore.

  No dinghy.

  Ink, Kith, and Cocky huddled together against the chill. Seren and Dain stood next to each other, wrapped in their cloaks, scanning the empty water.

  "Where is he, though?" Dain whispered, bouncing slightly on his toes. "Bree said midnight, yeah? Said he was sending a dinghy. That's what she said. So where is it?"

  An hour crawled past.

  Still no dinghy.

  A small black shape swooped toward them through the darkness, aiming for a dead branch jutting from the water. It missed. Hit the river with a splash.

  "Chack!"

  The bird flapped onto the branch, dripping and clearly embarrassed.

  "Captain!" came a young voice, breathless and panicked. "Slight problem with the dinghy, sir!"

  "What kind of problem?" Seren recognised Merren's voice—rich, already resigned.

  "It SANK, captain!" A gruff sailor's rasp.

  A pause. Then Merren's tone, carefully controlled: "Tell Bree's fugitives that I’m sorry but they’ll need to make their own way here before dawn."

  Seren's jaw tightened. "Of course it sank. Of course it did." The worry in her voice was clear.

  Kith's ears flicked. "Why ease into catastrophe when you can dive right in?"

  Dain crouched down, eyes wide. "Bloody hell, you can just DO that? Switch voices like that? That's absolutely mental, that is!" Then he softened his voice: "Are you alright, mate? You're proper soaked, yeah?"

  "No." The voice was small, miserable, and definitely not Merren's. "Jackdaws are NOT night birds."

  Seren grabbed her pack. "We can't go back—we'll wake the children.”

  "And Theron's guard’s watching the Turnip." Kith added.

  “We'll have to go through the city." Seren added.

  "In the dark?" Cocky's voice pitched higher.

  “The dark gives us a better chance to avoid being seen.” Seren's hand rested on her sword hilt, thinking. "We split up. Two groups." She looked at Cocky. "You can't be seen. That's the priority."

  "What are you thinking?" Dain asked, excited by the adventure. "You've got a plan, yeah? You always have a plan."

  "Ink and I lead. We're trained for this—if there's trouble, we can handle it." Seren's voice was matter-of-fact. "You three follow a block or so back. That way if guards react to us, you'll see it and have time to go another way."

  "How are we going to do that? We can’t see that far in the dark?" Dain asked.

  Kith's tone was dry. "I can see a flea scratch itself from half a mile away. In the dark. I'm no average hyena. I’ll be the eyes.”

  "Right, right—stupid question, that. Course you can. Mental."

  Seren nodded. "Which is why we go first. Draw out any danger." She looked at the bedraggled jackdaw shivering on the branch. "Can you navigate in the dark if needs be?"

  Prattle ruffled his wet feathers with great dignity and turned his back on Seren. "I can navigate anywhere. Doesn't mean I enjoy it. Especially not after almost DROWNING."

  "C'mon, bird—" Dain called.

  "Prattle," the jackdaw corrected, turning to Dain curiously.

  Dain held out his arm. "C'mon then, Prattle. Up here on my shoulder, yeah? Get you out of the cold. You're absolutely freezing, you are. Can't have that."

  The jackdaw eyed Seren with deep suspicion, then launched himself toward Dain, landing with a scatter of water droplets. He tucked himself against Dain's neck, still muttering.

  "If we get separated," Seren said, "meet at the back of the Chandlery. Bree says the ship's moored at the south wharf." Seren's jaw tightened. "Stay quiet. Stay sharp."

  They slipped into the sleeping city, Seren and Ink disappearing into shadow while Kith hung back with Cocky, Dain, and a grumpy jackdaw dripping water down Dain's neck.

  ***

  Seren and Ink rounded the corner they stepped out into the intersection bathed in moonlight.

  Something shifted in the shadows. Then she saw it. Metal catching the moonlight.

  Shit. Seren kept walking, pace steady, natural. Please don’t be a guard. You're NOT seeing a woman and a dog. Just shadows. Nothing unusual.

  The guard's head turned, tracking them.

  She kept her hand away from her sword, eyes forward. Ink walked with her tail low and her head up close to her leg, professional, calm.

  Just a woman walking her dog through the sleeping city. Nothing more.

  ***

  A block and a half back, Kith went still. In the blackness where the others saw only shapes, Kith picked out every detail—the guard's posture straightening, his head tracking movement down the street, the way his hand drifted toward his belt.

  She stopped, ears flat. "Guard ahead. Watching Seren."

  "Different route?" Dain whispered.

  "Yeah, but I don't know these streets." Kith looked at the bedraggled jackdaw on Dain's shoulder. "Prattle. Can you get us to the Chandlery without going down that street?"

  Prattle ruffled his wet feathers spritzing Dain’s face with water. "Left here. Two blocks. I’ll let you know when to turn after that." His voice was small and miserable, but certain.

  Kith turned left. The others followed, trusting legendary night vision and a grumpy jackdaw's perfect navigation through the sleeping city.

  ***

  Seren stood in the shadows behind the Chandlery with her hand on Stormdrink. Ink stood tense beside her. Both were aware of every noise.

  When Kith's shape emerged from the darkness, Cocky and Dain close behind, she finally breathed. "Did you see the person in the shadows?”

  “Yeah.” Kith said quietly.

  “Did you get spotted?”

  "No," Kith whispered. "But the guard definitely saw you."

  Seren's jaw tightened. "Shit. A guard. Then we need to move. Now."

  They kept to the shadows, Prattle directing them through the labyrinthine wharf to where The Black Ballad waited in darkness.

  Seren kept feeling like they were being watched.