“M’ fine.”
“I told you, man, she wasn’t worth it. No woman’s worth this.”
Shane’s grip on Davith’s shoulders briefly resembled a headlock. Davith coughed. “Come on, man, your breath would kill a horse.”
Marguerite didn’t know whether to bless Davith or strangle him herself. “Please?” she said to the laborer. “He’s a tame duelist and we really don’t want his boss to see him like this.”
“Oh, aye, I can see that.” The man’s lip curled and he waved an arm. “Take the left staircase.
Don’t want him getting underfoot on the main one.”
“You are a life saver,” said Marguerite fervently, and began steering Shane toward the stairs in question. The paladin stumbled a little too theatrically and she gritted her teeth.
No one else tried to stop them, although heads turned to watch their progress. Marguerite kept up a line of patter, not even listening to herself. “Come on, come on, you can do it, just a little farther, some fresh air will do you a world of good…”
And then, just like that, they were down the stairs and through the door and out of the fortress.
Out, thought Marguerite, with unspeakable relief, as the night air touched their faces. Free. Now we just get to the docks, find a captain we can bribe to take us across the lake without dropping us over the side halfway through, and we’ll be on the road and well away before anyone finds those bodies.
They hurried along the narrow wharf, no longer bothering to be stealthy. Speed was more important now. Marguerite pointed, and they rounded a stack of crates, onto the dock dedicated to lake traffic.
She blinked. Behind her, she heard Shane swear.
Moonlight glinted on the surface of the lake, dancing on the small waves that broke against the pilings. She could see each wave clearly because the entire dock was empty and there wasn’t a boat to be seen.
“IT’S THE BOATMAN’S STRIKE,” said Shane grimly. ‘I’m sorry. I should have remembered.” He couldn’t believe that he’d let it slip his mind. Although it’s not as if I haven’t had anything else to distract me. Still, at the very least, I should have told Marguerite, and she would have remembered.
He looked around helplessly, as if there might be a boat somewhere that they had simply overlooked. Unfortunately his night vision was getting worse the older he got. While the nearest boat mooring was clear enough, the far end of the dock dissolved into a blur. Even if there was a boat, I’d be the last person to see it.
It was cold consolation that apparently there wasn’t anything to see.
Wren put her hands on her hips. “Dammit, we can’t even steal a boat. Why would they take them all?”
“To prevent anyone from breaking the strike,” said Davith. “If all the boats are at anchor on the other side, anybody trying to slip out will be immediately obvious. They’d be branded a scab.”
“Community censure is a powerful incentive,” Shane offered.
Davith gave him a wry look. “Particularly when they express displeasure by breaking your legs.”
“Some forms of censure are more demonstrative than others.” Shane still had a strong desire to censure Davith’s face, but was determined not to embarrass Wren any further.
“That is…inconvenient,” Marguerite said. She chewed on her lower lip. “Let’s think this through.
How are they communicating their demands, if there are no boats here?”
“There’s one anchored off the dock,” said Davith, pointing. “Most likely someone signals to it when they’re ready to negotiate.”
“And they’ll likely be the last people amenable to a bribe to take us across.”
“You don’t break a strike,” said Davith, sounding somewhat shocked by the suggestion.
“We’re not smuggling brandy, we’re trying to keep from getting murdered,” Marguerite shot back.
“Yes, but it’s the principle of the thing.”
“I have very strong principles about not getting murdered.”
Davith folded his arms and looked obstinate. Shane took a casual step toward him. Davith unfolded his arms and muttered, “Fine, I just want it clear that I object.”
“Your objection is noted. Anyway, it’ll be moot if we can’t find a boat.”
Wren pointed over to the other dock. “I know those are all river boats, but could they cross the lake too? The river captains aren’t the ones striking.”
“I don’t know,” admitted Marguerite. “Boats aren’t my specialty. I assume most of them have animals taking them upstream, but maybe there’s someone with…errr…”
“Oars?” offered Shane.
“Those, yes.” She glanced up at him. “Do you know how to work a boat?”
“Not even a little.”
“Wren?”
“We don’t have navigable rivers where I grew up.”
“…Davith?”
“If I did, would I admit it right now?”
“Stealing one is right out, then.” Marguerite nodded once to herself. “Right. It’ll be fine. Bribery it is.”
BRIBERY, alas, it was not. The vast majority of the riverboats relied on animals on shore for power, which was hardly feasible in a lake. The few boats at the dock that did not looked to belong to local fishermen. Most of them would have been very strained by four passengers, but Marguerite was willing to take a chance. After slipping some coins to stevedores, she managed to find one in a local tavern, who looked at her with a mixture of surprise and regret.
“Can’t do it,” he said.
Marguerite hefted a pouch, which made an inviting clinking sound. The fisherman gazed at it with clear lust, but shook his head sadly. “’S not the money. They’ll shoot you on the other side right now.”
“Shoot you?”
“Anybody comes from over here and goes back, they assume he’s smuggling for the Court.” The fisherman slugged back a drink. “Barbarians, the lot of ’em. Your man there’s big, I grant you, but he’s not bigger’n arrow in the neck. It’s more than my life’s worth to go over there.”
“It’s more than my life’s worth to stay here,” said Marguerite, exasperated. She didn’t know the extent of the Sail’s forces at the Court, but even if Shane and Wren could fight off everyone sent against them, the local authorities were bound to notice the piles of corpses eventually.
The fisherman wiped his mouth and looked at her blearily. “’Fraid I can’t help. You’ll have to go over the mountain.”
“I can’t fly, either,” said Marguerite tartly.
He shook his head, surprising her. “There’s a trail, o’course. Couple of ’em. How d’you think they get back and forth when the lake’s all slush?”
Shane, who had been listening to all this in silence, said, “I would have thought sleds with runners.”
“Oh aye, aye, once it’s good and frozen. But we get about six weeks where it’s just slop. Can’t push a boat through it and you sink right through if you step on it.” He jerked his chin in the general