Chapter 6

  - Anelonians aren't elves, - Valria said with a stubborn twitch of her lips, repeating it a third time as the dock loomed ahead. - They're dark-skinned, dark-eyed, almost all of them have dark hair, huge noses, and small ears. But most importantly, they sail the sea. In ships. Elves don't sail the sea. Elves respect the sea and stay away from it. Don't call Anelonians elves.

  - Don't say that to the ship's captain's face. - Master Carlon glared at the girl. - You'll be the one to tow the makeshift raft that will take us to the islands. - He shook his head, seeing no sign of remorse on the elf's face. - I never thought that you, pointy-eared ones, were also somehow divided internally...

  - We don't divide. - Valria snorted and lifted her chin. - I told you, Anelonians aren't elves.

  - To be fair, there was some truth in Lady Valria's words. - Maria smiled faintly as she walked last. Armando never ceased to be amazed at how expressionless the smiles of this truly beautiful girl were. Perhaps it was her colourless face, where only her bright blue eyes stood out. Or in the shadow of uncertainty, the shyness that accompanied every smile. - The elves of Anelon and the inhabitants of the other forest principalities do indeed come from different branches of the elven people. There are legends that the Anelonians came to Daert long ago from across the sea, on giant rafts, and that the elven gods ignore them just as they do humans. This is why, incidentally, there are so many among the Anelonians who have accepted the One Creator. They are not only outwardly, but culturally... distinctive. But they're still elves.

  - Valria is just jealous. So she's talking nonsense, - Sergeant Dallan said in a steady voice as she led her mighty warhorse. - She hasn't seen other elves her own age in a long time, and now she's afraid I'm going to like Elena the navigator. She's also not happy that the ship's captain is older than she is.

  - You get used to good things quickly, - Master Carlon smirked, glancing at the golden-haired elf. - Some of the eared ones have been living among humans for too long....

  - You don't know anything about elven culture, - Valria said, muffled, pressing her ears back against her temples and pulling her hat down over her eyes. - I was born in Kornath, and I owe it to my ancestors to dislike the Anelonians.

  Nevertheless, the elf stopped grumbling - after all, her own attempts to hire a ship had come to nothing. The option Armando had found was the best possible. Having made sure that his companions had failed, the former royal bailiff visited the "Elena", talked to the captain, left him a deposit and agreed that the passengers would spend the night on the ship. The party entered the harbour on foot, leading only three horses - the rest of the horses had been sold by the group, having slightly improved their financial situation. The sun was low, gilding the crests of the waves and the masts of the sailing ships. It smelled of salt, tar, seaweed, and sourness. Don de Gorazzo could not vouch for the source of the last odour - perhaps a load of lemons had gone bad in the hold, or perhaps a keg of sailor's liquor had leaked on deck. After walking along the boardwalk, the travellers stopped in front of a gangplank thrown over the side of the “Elena”. Sergeant Dallan threw back her head and surveyed the ship from waterline to bow. She gave her verdict:

  - It's beautiful.

  The former royal bailiff could not but agree with the mercenary. The black-haired elf's namesake ship was a large three-masted caravel with slanting sails, the kind they called Iolian. The sides were tar-black, the long aft superstructure and the raised bow were decorated with scarlet intricate painting, and over the port side could be seen the black mouths of three solid bombards. The "Elena" stood bow to shore, giving a view of the short bowsprit, which not every caravel had. Don de Gorazzo could hardly call himself a great expert in navigation, but against the background of familiar to him river shells Anelon sailing ship looked like a battle galleon. And a flagship, judging by the richness of the decorations.

  - Are these your friends, sire Armando? - Elena, the navigator, leaned over the rail of the foredeck. The dark-haired girl's gaze immediately fixed on Valria, and the don belatedly thought that the dislike between sea elves and mountain elves must be mutual. De Gorazzo hastened to respond:

  - Yes, they are. Everyone we talked about.

  - Wait there. I'll get the sailors to help you with the horses. - The curly-haired elf's head disappeared over the high board.

  - She's beautiful, - sergeant Dallan said in the same tone of voice as she looked at the navigator. Valria sucked in a breath, but didn't comment.

  As soon as the group ascended the gangway, a bassy laughter broke out over the deck. The captain was coming from the deck to meet the guests with a broad smile. The father of the navigator and the owner of the ship seemed to be a man of forty years old - therefore, he was already well over four centuries old. His white shirt almost cracked on his mighty broad shoulders. Sharp ears, perforated and nibbled like a yard cat's, peeked out from a mane of black hair, only at shoulder level gathered in a braid. Brown eyes sparkled in a tanned face. But the most remarkable detail of the elf's appearance was, without a doubt, the luxurious shovel beard. Armando had already met the captain half a day ago when he had visited the ship with the navigator, but the sight struck him as much the second time round. He had never seen bearded elves before, not even in book pictures. Frankly speaking, until now the former bailiff had thought that elven men simply did not grow beards. Maybe Valria was right about the Anelonians?

  - Ha-ha-ha! That's great! You came after all! How do you do? I am Captain Dorlt, son of Nirlt. My nickname is Crowbeard. - Just getting off at the waist was apparently too boring, so the elf jumped the last few steps. The deck shook - the shipowner must have weighed as much as Armando and a half.

  - Skipper. If you'll excuse us, we'll call you Skipper. - Valria leaned back a little, looking up and down coldly at her kin. Dorlt towered almost a full head above the tall girl. Only Lady Maria could look him in the face without throwing back her head. - You see, I'm a captain, too. There'll be confusion.

  - Ha-ha-ha! That's great! You be the captain! And I'll be the skipper, agreed. - The bearded elf clapped Valria on the shoulder so that the girl staggered. - Why not? You're a nice girl, I see. Though from the wilderness. May it please you.

  - From the wilderness? - Valria's ears perked up, touching the brim of her hat. She even ignored the "girl." - What do you mean, messir Dorlt?

  - Well, you're from the mountains, I can tell by your accent. - Skipper put his hands behind his back. - And your ears are long and thin, not like normal elves. Ha-ha! That's all right, I've known a lot of Highlanders like you. You don’t know how to build ships, so I have to drive you around when you have business. No problem, but you have good masons. And the wine is good.

  Captain Valria suddenly replied in Elvish, rather sharply. The skipper, too, switched to his native language, laughing loudly at times. Lady Maria leaned over to Armando and whispered to him:

  - They... well... argue whose dialect is more provincial and... rustic. Given elven history, it's a complicated question.

  - Eh... - Master Carlon waved his hand in frustration and headed for the hold hatch where the company's horses were being lowered one by one. Sergeant Dallan followed him, while Maria and Green remained to watch the show. As luck would have it, a few seconds later Elena appeared near the gangway as if from the ground, and the mere sight of her had a strange effect on Dorlt. The caravel's owner lost half a word, coughed into his fist, and said a few words to his daughter. She put her hands on her hips and icy said in icy Daertian:

  - Naturally, you're pleased to meet your kin. Now, if you would be so kind as to greet the rest of guests.

  - Oh. My apologies, - the skipper turned to the guests, his smile fading a little. - I completely forgot about politeness. Ha-ha, but I'm glad you're all here! We're leaving half-empty, and the passengers are very welcome.

  - I also apologise on behalf of the whole crew, - the navigator added, bowing her head. - Including for future possible... misunderstandings.

  - How about we sail before sunset? - The flushed Valria quickly pulled herself together. She took a couple of deep breaths and exhaled slowly, and spoke in a confident, businesslike tone: - Armando told you we were in a hurry, didn't he? I'll give you one royal gold coin on top of the agreed amount if you don't wait until tomorrow.

  - Ten gold coins, - the bearded elf said, not smiling at all.

  - It's... too much. - The Captain had a hard time keeping her composure.

  - Of course, - agreed the skipper. - But in the morning we have to receive a cargo of southern spices for one of the trading houses of the Republic. If you are prepared to pay for the losses I will incur, including liquidated damages to the customer and compensation for the spoilt relations with my partners....

  - Ten is too much, - Valria repeated, as if trying to convince herself.

  - But there is a chance that the bales will arrive in port early in the morning, - the ship's commander smiled again. - If your companions can help with the loading, we'll be out to sea before lunch. How's that? And no extra pay.

  - Well, when there are no apples in the basket, you can nibble on an onion. - The golden-haired elfess responded to the smile with not much sincerity. She held out her hand. – We have a deal.

  - Ha-ha-ha! That's the great thing. - Dorlt clenched the girl's palm so that de Gorazzo heard a crunch. - Elena will show you to your seats. I've cleared a cabin for the women in the superstructure, with a window and a bed; the men will find hammocks in the hold. It's nice there too, dry and cool. We've got no leaks in the bottom.

  Valria looked back at the bilge hatch, where Dallan and the mage were watching Snowflake's loading. She shook her bruised hand, stretching her fingers. - Skipper, I have one more request. The night before we sail, I want to spend the night on deck with my men. And by the way, I've heard that caravels usually have small cannons... Why don't you have them?

  - The laws of the Republic require the swivel guns to be removed before entering port, - Elena explained instead of the skipper. The curly-haired elven woman's normally impassive face showed slight surprise.

  - Can I ask you to put them on overnight? And charge them? If there's a fine from the harbour authorities, I'll pay it.

  The shipowner did not answer at once. He exchanged glances with his daughter, scratched his beard. He said in an unusually quiet voice:

  - You know, Captain... Let's go to my quarters. I think the preliminary agreement with messir Armando needs some clarification. But it's better to continue the conversation not standing up, not on an empty stomach, and not on deck....

  *       *       *

  It was a deeply unhealthy thing to discuss politics while sober at night, and no one would change Armando's mind about that. But what else was there to do on a watch from dusk till dawn? "You'll get enough sleep at sea", Captain Vфlria told her comrades as she assigned tasks. The company settled on the upper deck of the caravel in full - Lady Maria on the port side, Sergeant Dallan on the starboard side, Vфlria and the corporal on the bow, and Don de Gorazzo and master Carlon on the quarterdeck, near the helm. Their cloaks, covered with thin blankets more for camouflage than for warmth, they huddled at the edge of the deck, ready to take up arms at any moment. Of the crew, the night watchman shared the vigil with the mercenaries, now dozing against the helm. Armando hoped he was the only one visible from the shore, for the fugitives lying on the deck would be hidden by the high bulwark. The don also hoped that all these precautions would be in vain. But experience told the former magistrate that the squad would not be so lucky. They had used up all their luck during the day.

  The negotiations in the skipper's cabin were attended on one side by Dorlt himself and his daughter, and on the other by Valria and her, as the elfess put it, "consultants on magic and culture of the Western States". That is, master Carlon and Don Armando of course. A platter of freshly baked scones on the captain's desk acted as a neutral buffer. Don de Gorazzo foresaw two ways in which the conversation would develop. The first - Valria begins to humour and make up false reasons to be on the alert at night, after which the skipper withdraws the detachment from the ship. The second - Valria tells everything as it is, after which the skipper withdraws the squad from the ship. In practice, however, it came out... differently. The imperial elf, putting a mask of seriousness on her face, without looking at the buns, almost honestly told her black-haired relatives that her squad was fulfilling a state task. The only thing was that she didn't specify which state she was talking about. Then she explained that the group was trying to deliver to their superiors information on which the fate of the Coalition depended - and that was true, too. Finally, she frankly warned that many high-profile events in the Kingdom of Daert were directly related to the actions of the group.

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  - And they want to kill us because of it, - the captain summed up, smiling her warm, charming smile for the first time in the whole conversation.

  - And therefore, while you are on my ship, and the ship is off the coast, we are at risk of attack? - Skipper Dorlt said, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

  - That's right, - Valria smiled even wider. The bearded elf glanced at Elena, who was standing next to him with her arms folded across her chest. The beautiful navigator frowned and... sighed brokenly. Rolled her eyes. Dorlt laughed, his head thrown back:

  - Ha-ha-ha! That's great!

  - I knew you'd like it. - Valria squinted slightly. - So you don't mind the risk?

  - Double payment. - The skipper winked at his companion. - Separate - compensation for damage to the ship in case of battle. And I don't mind.

  Elena lowered her eyelids, silently uttered a short phrase with just her lips. And nodded silently. Remembering how easily daughter had silenced her father on the deck, Armando decided that her displeasure was more ostentatious. Otherwise, the curly-haired elf would not have been afraid to speak out.

  A quarter of an hour later, having discussed all the details and eaten their buns, the three mercenaries left the commander's quarters. It was only on deck that Armando allowed himself to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. Stopping at the locker, he said to Valria:

  - It was a blind shot, and you hit the bull's-eye. But the risk...

  - When I can't see the target, I shoot at the sound. Or I don't shoot at all, - the captain grinned smugly. - I knew what I was doing.

  - Soul mates sense each other from afar. – Master Carlon put his hand on her shoulder. - But you've really told them a lot.

  - If something goes wrong and there's no Imperial ship waiting for us in the island port, we'll have to take another ship to Elvart. - The elfess glanced overboard with some apprehension and stepped back from the edge of the deck. Gently she removed the mage's hand from her shoulder. - It was worth preparing the ground.

  The caravel, lit only by the moon and a couple of dim magical lanterns, slumbered peacefully on the pier, half a dozen people on its deck listening intently to the waves. The main hope, naturally, was for Valria. She sat under the bowsprit with her back against the bulwark, eyes closed, a magazine crossbow in her lap and a loaded rifle at her feet. When the sparse clouds did not cover the moon, Don de Gorazzo could see the girl's long, sharp ears moving. All he could do was to chase away the slumber.

  - A sailor in a Daert tavern told me that in a storm they sometimes pour oil over the side of a ship, - Armando said in a whisper to the magician sitting next to him. - It calms the storm around the ship, but only for a while. After that, the waves become twice as fierce as before.

  - It's a bit of a story, - the mage responded in the same low voice.

  - Yes. But my point is... Octavia's coronation was this barrel of oil for Daert. The kingdom had been in turmoil since the assassination of the ruling family. Octavia dampened the passions for a while - she was the King's legitimate daughter, people liked her... - De Gorazzo lowered his eyelids for a moment, conjuring up the image of the young queen. He gritted his teeth. - When she was gone, the lid was ripped off the boiling cauldron. From what they say here in Erdo, things are getting worse for the kingdom. And it's not even because of the usurper. It started before him. It's just that... Octavia could still put out the fire with little blood. Auguste can't. The chance is gone.

  - I've listened to the chatter in the bazaars, too, - the black-bearded mage nodded slowly. - The king is personally travelling the country with his army, subduing barons and city councils. It seems to be quite successful, but...

  - But he has bigger problems, - Don finished. - They say that not all the dukes have come to the capital for the homage. They say the royal garrisons in several of the pacified free cities were slaughtered as soon as Auguste travelled far away. They say Erdo and Iolia are recalling companies of their mercenaries from the kingdom, lest they be drawn into internal conflict. They say the Duc de Velonda has already openly declared his withdrawal from the Crown, as his ancestors swore to serve the Iderlings and Auguste is not an Iderling. They say he has sent gifts to the chiefs of the steppe tribes, promising friendship in exchange for military aid.

  - They say that Marshal de Cotoci's army has reached the borders of Velonda, - said the mage, glancing at Armando with a sidelong glance. - They say the Marshal promises to show the Duke a reliable witness who knows something terrible about the new king.

  Armando sucked in air with his nose. He asked in a muffled voice:

  - Mater, do you think... Should I hope that the witness is Vittoria?

  - If the marshal isn't bluffing, it can only be her. Have hope, Don. Have hope.

  - But if Vittoria gives away even a fraction of what she knows about the plot.....

  - She was being hunted anyway, Don. Auguste realised that she had learned too much, that she had done business with the queen. And so the king's enemies will guard Vittoria like the apple of their eye, - the mage reasonably remarked. - Donna the forensic necromancer can really tell a lot of interesting things about Auguste. Even if she keeps silent about the strangers.

  Corporal Green suddenly appeared in front of the men. He put a finger to his thin lips and let out a short hiss.

  - Silence, silence, - said master Carlon, raising his hands. The corporal gave him an unblinking stare and fled from the deck on all fours. Armando saw Valria threaten them from the bow with her fist. He had to be silent. The minutes immediately slowed to a snail's pace, carrying seconds from present to past. Struggling to sleep, Don de Gorazzo began to periodically pinch his cheek. It turned out that it was convenient to count the time spent on duty in pinches. On the twelfth pinch, the former bailiff noticed that Captain Valria had thrown the blanket off her legs, stood up and waved. Armando shoved the mage to the side, but he was already looking at the elven woman himself. The corporal slid off the bow onto the main deck, drawing Maria and Dallan's attention. Valria pointed them to the starboard side, opposite the pier. The Lady Guardswoman nodded in response, her heavy sword flashing, catching a beam of blue moonlight. The sergeant crawled closer to her, rose to a knee, and bared her sword as well. Armando held his breath, nervously stroking the hilt of his weapon. The mage fidgeted nearby, removing an oblong clay amulet from his belt.

  Twenty or thirty heartbeats later, nothing happened. Then a small object soared over the side of the caravel. It struck the bulwark almost without a clatter, caught... A cat-hook! Small and blued, so it wouldn't glint in the dark. Maria and Dallan nestled against the high bulwark on either side of the cat-hook, blades at the ready. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. A human head appeared over the edge of the board. The unidentified man, clad in a wet sleeveless coat, glanced at the sleeping watchman at the helm, leaned over the fence boards... Sergeant Dallan struck from bottom to top, slashing the blade of her sword across the neck of the intruder.

  - Agh! - In the ringing silence, even a strangled wheeze rang out like thunder. The spy clung to the edge of the board with one hand, the other to his cut throat. Without further ado, Dallan slammed the cross into his teeth. The wounded man toppled backwards, out of sight. Water splashed. The response was immediate. A cylinder thrown by a strong hand flew out from overboard. It did not fall to the deck in time. Lady Maria jumped to her feet, caught the cylinder in mid-air, threw it back - all in a flash, literally in a single movement. Without time to fall to the ground, she covered her eyes with her forearm. De Gorazzo hastily do the same. There was a rumble, a flash so intense that the white light slashed Armando's eyes even through his lowered eyelids.

  - To battle! - Master Carlon shouted, snapping the amulet in half with a crunch. All the lights on the “Elena” went out at once, shrouding the ship in darkness.

  - Green, there are two in the water, yours! One stranger! - Valria's voice rang out from ship’s nose. With a fierce hiss, the lizard-man threw his heavy cloak off his shoulders, and without hesitation leaped overboard. The elfess herself was already standing near the bowsprit, loading her crossbow. People were running from the harbour buildings to the pier. A lot of them. More than a dozen.

  - Places! Ha-ha-ha-ha! - The superstructure door swung open, and Skipper Dorlt, fully dressed and carrying a crooked boarding sabre at his side, appeared on the bunks. Sailors armed with crossbows poured out in peas after him. Three sailors were dragging the swivel cannon that had been brought up from the hold to the forecastle the night before. Armando and Carlon hurried with them to the bow. The magician was already removing a new amulet from his belt.

  - Hold them down! - Valria shouted, sending arrow after arrow towards the attackers. - Don't let...

  The shot of the strangers' gun, sharp and high, echoed over the harbour. Armando, who was already climbing the ladder of the bow, saw a fountain of blood spurt from the elf's back. With a shriek, the girl collapsed on her back, dropping her crossbow. Her hat flew off her head.

  - Demons and Gehenna! - Armando rushed forward, grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and pulled her under the cover of the oak bulwark. Carlon and Dallan, who had climbed out of the main deck, were beside him. The alien gunner, however, had already switched to new targets - he quickly knocked out a pair of sailors carrying a cannon. The single pops were followed by a continuous crackle of gunfire as a hail of lead rained down on the masts and the foredeck.

  - Everybody down! Get down! - Master Carlon shouted, and the skipper in the stern repeated his order in his own booming voice. - Valria, can you hear me?

  - Ouch! My arm... I can't feel... my left... - the elf tried to sit up and lean her back against the side. Dallan carefully supported her. - It hurts...

  - You got a hole in your shoulder. It could be bone. Dallan, wait with the bandage, I'll stop the bleeding first. - The mage pocketed one amulet and removed the other from his belt.

  - Later. A rifle, - the captain exhaled, holding out her healthy hand. - Give it to me, quick.

  - You need… - the mage began, however the girl interrupted him:

  - I saw the shooter. I'll get him. There's two of them, but one of them's aiming.

  - He's already changed his position, if he's not a fool, - Carlon objected.

  - No. Yes. It's on the roof of the warehouse on the left. There's only two or three convenient spots. Could only go to the nearest one. Rifle! I'm gonna pass out. It hurts.

  A few sailors, on their own account, leaned out from overboard and fired a volley, forcing the attackers to seek cover behind crates on the quay. Just then, one sailor went down with a bullet in his chest. Without a word, Sergeant Dallan grabbed the butt of a nearby rifle and pulled it towards her. She took the gun in her hands and blew on the smouldering fuse.

  - You can't, - elfsaid hoarsely, clutching the hole in her shoulder with her palm. - It's dark. And I can't hold it right now. Help me.

  The sergeant simply nodded. Armando shouted downstairs:

  - Distract the enemy! Another volley!

  Five or six of the sailors raised their crossbows again, the others not daring to stick their heads out in the downpour of lead. Dallan and Velria came up at the same time, the sergeant holding the barrel of the rifle, partially covering the elf with her own body.

  - Bdan-n-ng! - something struck the sergeant's cuirass, sending sparks out of the back plate. The green-eyed girl staggered, but held her ground.

  - B-bang! - the rifle rumbled, covering the bow with a cloud of smoke.

  - I got him! I got him! - A moment later, the elf exclaimed. She smiled broadly and... sank to the deck. Dallan barely had time to pick up her partner. De Gorazzo noticed a long dent in the girl's cuirass - the stranger's bullet had slipped through the steel plate, crumpling the metal like paper.

  - Shoot! - Armando ordered, for master Carlon was leaning over Valria with a healing amulet. - Don't let them get close!

  Though the crackle of the shots continued, and the bullets continued to pound the sides and deck of the “Elena”, the sailors, urged on by the skipper's roar, clambered off the deck and scattered about the ship. A dozen crossbowmen scrambled up the bow, a few climbed the cables, and the rest, led by Lady Mary, took up position near the gangway. A cannon, loaded with small buckshot, was dragged there as well. The black silhouettes on the quay stirred. Leaving their hiding places, they rushed to the pier, were hit by a volley of crossbows, and retreated, leaving two bodies on the planks. The return fire of the last alien gunner was more of a nuisance than a real threat - the alien from the other world seemed to be aiming to waste ammunition without hitting anyone on the caravel.

  - How is she? - Dallan asked Mmaster Carlon in a strained voice. He had laid the emotionless elf on her back and was tending to her wound.

  - I've had worse, - the mage said without raising his head. - But there's a lot of blood... Take Maria downstairs, I need her here.

  The stranger's gun stopped firing. There was a muffled pop, and a cloud of thick, black smoke began to billow from the pier.

  - That's not good, - Don de Gorazzo drew his sword. The cloud was growing, and it was clear that soon it would cover the entire pier. - Prepare for close combat!

  The “Elena” sailors finally set up the swivel gun and swung it along the pier. Skipper Dorlt and Sergeant Dallan froze at the gangway with naked blades in their hands. The planks that had been thrown over the pier had not been removed because master Carlon had placed a homemade fire amulet under them. The first enemies who decided to board the caravel were to be roasted in the magical flames.

  From behind the black cloud came a battle cry... cut short by a gunshot. The alien gunman's guns began to talk again, crackling, but not a single bullet struck the “Elena”. But painful screams and panicked cries came from the quay. A man in a black cloak ran out of the smoke and was immediately pelted with crossbow arrows by the sailors. There were no other attempts to attack. It was quiet in about a minute. The crew and passengers of the caravel froze on their places, not knowing what to expect next. Corporal Green climbed up on deck, unharmed, holding in his teeth something that looked suspiciously like a human finger. Throwing an anxious glance at the bow, he spat out his "trophy" and joined the sergeant and skipper. The waves splashed and the mast creaked, but no one dared to utter a word. Finally the wind dispersed the cloud. The dazed defenders of the “Elena” saw a dozen dead bodies strewn across the pier. At the base of the pier stood a tall man in black and grey clothing, holding an outsider's rifle on his shoulder. When he realised that the smoke no longer concealed him, the alien carefully placed his weapon on the ground and raised his hands above his head.

  - He's... surrendering? - Armando mumbled in disbelief.

  - Who? – Master Carlon asked. The mage was still kneeling beside Valria, working on the bandaged wound.

  - An outsider. The one who shot from the rooftops. He... seems to have shot his squad in the back and now stands with his hands up.

  - A trap? - suggested the magician. - They're playing dead, waiting for us to get off the ship.

  - Then they don't have a fighting unit, they have a troupe of travelling entertainers.

  - I'll talk to him, - Lady Maria, who had just finished bandaging the wound, brushed a strand of light hair that had fallen out of her forehead and stood up.

  - I'm with you. - De Gorazzo put his sword back in its scabbard.

  - All right, Don. Thank you. - The Lady Guardsman smiled faintly at him.

  Under the cover of a cannon and a dozen crossbowmen, the two of them walked to the pier and stopped in the middle of it. Armando gestured for the stranger to approach them. It would be imprudent to go to the pier, where there might be an ambush, or to let the stranger on board.

  - If he even twitches his arm sharply, chop him to the demons, - the former royal bailiff told Maria in a full voice. - Remember what happened last time?

  - I remember, - replied the pale girl dryly.

  The stranger stopped a few paces away from them, still holding his hands above his head. He smirked and said in very passable Daertian:

  - Good night. I'd like to discuss with your commanding officer the terms of a change of employer. You see, I've been looking for a new job recently.