It would be a job for the captain, Finnian, Callum, and Grey to transport the sizable amount of Aisling’s gold from her safehold. Generally, just the three officers would be more than capable of a pick-up, but Aisling had introduced the captain to her contact the day before, and he would only release the funds to Akula. Grey supposed Akula could have insisted his subordinates would handle it, but the man seemed interested in leading the excursion.

  They would leave at night, limiting their chances of being stopped by an ironcloak. There was nothing overly suspicious about a group of sailors carting a gold chest or two through Saphir, but the fewer questions asked, the better.

  Aisling had not offered her retainers to accompany Akula, likely because a wealthy merchant’s retainers were always watched. Akula’s movements on Veruna would have been watched as well, but Finnean put a hard stop to all but the best ebbjacks.

  The group rented a pony and cart from the stable by the port, and shortly after, strode out onto the streets of Saphir with torches in hand. It was late enough in the evening for the residential districts to be dark, but not so late that it would be odd for them to be traversing them.

  It was an uneventful trip through the port and the market district. The night stalls were like uncut dream to Finnean, but after a harsh word from Akula, and then a laugh, the ebbjack peeled himself away.

  Grey thought it was nice having Akula along. He put the group at ease, reconciling their very different personalities with his leadership. The only thing that rubbed her was his choice of gear. He hadn’t worn his old ripper gear, even for the potentially dangerous outing. He walked smoothly in canvas trousers and a loose linen shirt.

  Of course, his rapier and its scabbard were tied at his hip, its intricate hilt flashing in the lantern light. Grey always liked the spirals and knots the steel of his hilt was twisted into. Most rapiers had flashy hand guards over the base of their blade that she appreciated, but she had never been skilled with a rapier. She lacked the patience for intricate swordwork.

  Callum, of course, was geared to the teeth. Whenever Grey thought he couldn’t add one more weapon, he would. Callum didn’t use the pouches sewn onto his bracers as Grey did. Instead, he preferred small bags of black powder, tied at his waist. A ceramic tube ran at their center, and if he cracked it, the powder would eventually burst. Depending on what else was in the pouch, their purpose may range from starting a fire to blowing a cobblestone out of the street.

  On the outside of his bracers were what rippers called fish hooks. The base of the blade was sewn securely in place on his forearm, and the edge was a series of long barbs. They acted like the teeth of a shark, ripping flesh from bones.

  Grey didn’t care for fish hooks. They required boarish strength to keep them from getting stuck and hindering the wearer’s movements. They were much more suited to Callum’s fighting style. When they sparred together, and Grey was winning, he would cry out, “You would have been ripped by my fishhooks!” and Grey would shrug. If Lotti were around, she would yell, “Put them on then!”

  Finnean wore his black ebbjack tunic, loose pants, and cape. Chaos only knew all he hid underneath. Grey had seen him use a wide range of tools and weapons, and she was fairly certain he always carried the mechanical frog. His only visible equipment was the dark wormwood bow slung over his shoulder, diagonal to his hydrascale quiver. Blood-red fletched arrows peaked from the top.

  She knew from several expeditions with Finnean that the arrows could be tipped with nasty tonics and toxins. He had shown her the notches marked below the feathers that helped him tell the difference, by sight or by feel. Sometimes, she wondered if he cared, Chaos generally being his preference.

  The team made their way into the storage district. Everywhere else on the island, the buildings were made of coral-stone, limestone, or adobe, protecting them from the temperamental weather in the Myriad. Here, the buildings had been more hastily constructed from oak, a signal that Saphir’s commerce was booming more rapidly than the builders could keep up with.

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  Akula checked his notes for the directions Aisling had provided, squinting at the paper in the dark.

  “Do you need your spectacles, old man?” Callum said, his dry humor peaking out with the whole group together.

  Akula sniffed, moving the paper toward a torch. “That’s Captain, brickhead.. Probably.” He looked up the street and turned the horse, taking them further West. There were no street lamps here, and their torches were swallowed by the massive warehouses around them.

  Outside of one was Aisling’s man, leaning against its oak wall. He waved at Akula and turned to unlock the door. Finnian tied their chestnut pony to one of the pillars outside and fed it something from under his cloak. Grey hoped it was a sugar cube. The ebbjack had an affection for every animal she had seen him with.

  The group entered the space, their torchlight consumed by its vast interior. Aisling’s man lit a wall sconce while he talked to Akula. Several chests had been pulled to the center, separated from a wall of barrels, furniture, and a variety of central Etosian goods. Grey would bet there was not much of value here, solely from the lack of guards. This was only a layover for the gold, not permanent storage.

  With a nod from Akula, Callum picked up the first chest and hauled it to the cart. He certainly could have asked Grey for help, but he never would, which left her with lifting her own. It wasn’t the first time she had wished for another female riptide on her team, or at least, a less pigheaded man.

  They stood in the warm evening air as Aisling’s man extinguished the sconce and locked up. Finnian walked to gather the pony, reaching for its lead tied to the large oak pillar.

  Though Grey heard nothing, she saw Finnian raise his head, his eyes widening. He left the horse tied and stepped past Grey to face the alley across the street.

  A shrill whistle snapped through the air, and Finnian jerked one of his blades across Grey’s line of sight. She could see his dagger meet the projectile, a few feet before it struck her right eye. It ricocheted and stuck sickly from Aisling’s contact’s neck.

  Did Finnian do that on purpose? She supposed it was better to have the man removed from whatever would happen next, not knowing if he was the one who sold them out.

  Grey and Callum crouched, flanking Finnean while staying a step in front of the Captain. The riptides were also skilled enough to deflect arrows, but only if they knew they were being attacked and facing the correct direction. Grey’s unusual sight made her even more adept, though she had missed the threat tonight.

  A beautiful, familiar woman stepped from the shadows. Her hair was pulled back under her ebbjack hood, but Grey recognized her eyes and the fine build of her face in the torchlight.

  As another ebbjack and three riptides stepped from the shadows, she spoke, “It’s nice to see you again, Callum. You really are such a trusted man to Captain Akula. It’s not often a sailor doesn’t exaggerate his position after a few tankards.”

  Callum grunted, putting the picture together. He recognized her as she spoke.

  Sara, a Lieutenant from the free-merchant ship the Storm Eel, smirked and pulled back her hood, confirming her identity for the rest of the group.

  Grey had met the woman a few evenings prior, on a night out with Finnean and Callum. She and Finnean had both wondered how a woman with her looks was so interested in the big riptide. He was handsome enough, but not in a way that overcame his dry personality. They had stayed out of his way at Almonte’s, chalking it up to luck. The sun shone on a dog’s ass every now and then.

  “You fucking idiot,” Akula fumed, “How many times have I told you not to trust a woman that laughs at your jokes? She is well above your grade… and clearly smarter.” He shoved Callum and turned to Finnian and Grey. “You two should have told him as much. It could be over once a month, that I warn you.”

  In fact, Akula’s speech on honeypots was one of his favorites. He loved reminding his officers, who were often privy to sensitive information, that if a man or woman looked too good for them, they probably were. They had not suddenly grown an interesting personality or cunning sense of humor; they were being plied for information.

  Everyone would nod their heads, thinking it would never happen to them. Yet, it very reliably did.

  Grey paused for a moment and thought of Aisling.

  No, that certainly wasn’t the case. Grey was positive that she was as dashing as they came. As a matter of fact, she did have a wicked sense of humor and a charming personality. Even Nessa had said as much. If Aisling showed any interest, it was well-earned.

  Glad that she had sorted that in her head, she cut in, “Let’s move this along, ebbjack, we all know his head is full of logs. You’re here for the gold, and we’re outnumbered. I’m sure we can work something out.”

  Sara’s grin grew across her tanned face, and Grey knew damn well she wouldn’t be working anything out.