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“It’s night,” said Evemer.
“Exactly.”
“No one will be there.”
“Exactly.” It wasn’t even that far away from where they now stood.
The night air was cool and only faintly salty even when they got closer to the Shipbuilder’s Guild and the harborfront—the tall seawalls blocked most of the wind coming off the water—and this, combined with the brisk walk, had Kadou almost one-third sober by the time they reached the guild.
The huge building was well lit. Each door was hung with lanterns, and there had been a double posting of guards since the break-in. Kadou paused, dozens of yards away from the edge of the nearest circle of lamplight, and squinted down the street. “Lots of people here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yousaid there wouldn’t be anybody here.”
“Sir,” Evemer said, after a pointed pause.
Kadou decided to let it go. Of course Evemer had meant there wouldn’t be anyone who could verify their identities or let them inside the building to poke around. It wouldn’t be nice of Kadou to tease him over semantics.
“Take this off,” Kadou said, plucking at the sleeve of the pine-green kaftan concealing the uniform beneath. “Might as well show off that you’re important.”
“Sir,” said Evemer.
Kadou was too drunk to bother translating. He peered down the street at the guards. “Any of them kahyalar, you think? Would they recognizeme?” He didn’t even notice his hand was going to his turban, preparing to pull it off and shake out his hair until Evemer caught his wrist.
He snatched his hand back a heartbeat later. “Leave it,” Evemer said.
“What if instead I just shout really loudly, ‘Here I am, Prince Kadou Mahisti’? How about that?” He really oughtn’t tease Evemer. It wasn’t fair—Evemer couldn’t, or ratherwouldn’t,tease back.
“Sir,” Evemer said in a pained voice.
Kadou sighed with his entire heart and led them forward.
It seemed that the guards around the building didn’t particularly care if they walked back and forth along the street. They watched, yes, but when the lantern light was bright and near enough to show the colors of Evemer’s uniform, they only nodded politely to him and said nothing. Kadou kept his face angled away from the light as much as possible and felt a flare of delight to do so—how strange and novel it was to walk right down the street and at least be dismissed, if not quite entirely unnoticed. How giddy and baffling it was to have someone thinkEvemerwas the current ranking authority on this street. It felt scandalous and transgressive, and he wasn’t sure that Evemer had even noticed. If he had, he would have gone to throw himself into the harbor.
The delicious vertigo of this uncommon pleasure made Kadou bold. At the end of the street, instead of turning around and pacing back down the length of the building, he turned them toward the guild’s shipyard. There were three half-built vessels in dry dock, waiting for decks or masts, and the stale-water and salt scent of the harbor was overlaid here by those of sawdust and pine tar. The tip of Kadou’s shoe kicked something small as he walked; it went skittering over the cobbles with a metallic sound. He bent automatically to pick it up—a nail. He knew it was brass, more by common sense than by touch-tasting. He was still drunk enough that the signatures in his fingertips were muffled, muted. All he got was a bit of a juddering sensation and a faint suggestion of autumn leaves. He tossed the nail aside.
“Where do you think they were waiting?”
“Sir?”
“The thieves. The night of the break-in. They must have been nearby, right? Waiting for the fireworks to start.” He waved an arm vaguely at the surrounding buildings and the shipyard itself. “Must have had the battering ram and everything ready to go.”
“Sir,” Evemer said. “Some of us—” He fell silent.
“What?”
“Nothing, sir. Mere speculation.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Kadou said, which got a faint indignant sound from Evemer. Kadou assumed that meantYes, you do! At home, safe in bed, behind three locked gates and four guarded doors!“Speculate, then. Go on.”
“Some of us,” Evemer said, “thought they might have taken something from the wood supply.” He gestured toward the end of the shipyard where a massive pile of raw material was covered with oilcloth tarps. “One of the masts, we thought.”
Kadou blinked at the pile, then at Evemer. “Why would you think that?”
“The dents in the door.” He held up his hands, spanning an invisible circle perhaps ten inches across.
Kadou peered at it. “That’d be a pretty small mast. Maybe for a little sloop, but . . .”
