before.
“Where have you hidden it?” she wondered aloud, overlooking the many docked boats, both grand and small. Creeping closer, she noted the ones she had already checked when Haern had thought she was slaughtering more thieves to alert the Wraith to their presence. Part of her was glad she had done so instead. She didn’t like the idea of more bodies hanging from the gallows because of her actions any more than Haern did.
One by one she went down the docks, lurking in the deep shadows of the clouded starlight. Any boat not owned by the Merchant Lords she skipped, but there were not many. The ones that were guarded she slipped past. Zusa wanted no commotion alerting any to her search. Crates and cargoes flashed before her eyes, yet as the night wore on, she could not find what she was looking for.
By the time she’d checked twenty ships and found nothing of note, she decided she needed a way to narrow down her search. If the merchant lords had any of their new product in Angelport, surely it would be kept well guarded. Focusing solely on the larger boats with visible guards, she continued on.
Her first pick was the Fireheart, which she recognized as one of Blackwaters’ boats. Alyssa had considered him the Merchant Lord to watch most closely. Three men stood near the top of the plank leading to the boat. Two were asleep at their posts, the third leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, watching the water lap against the dock. Two torches burned from posts halfway up the ramp. Zusa smiled at the setup. No doubt they thought the presence of so many would deter thieves. She almost wished they’d spent some time in Veldaren, among the presence of true thieves. Then they’d realize how little their guard meant. But between Keenan, the merchant lords, and Lord Murband, all the good thieves had abandoned the city for more opportune ground.
Zusa loved vulnerable targets.
She dove into the water a hundred yards away, and with careful patience, drifted toward the boat. The water was cold, but not enough to cause her any harm unless she stayed in it too long. Unseen she brushed against the side of the boat and used her hands to steady herself from going underneath. Above, she heard someone snoring. Grabbing her daggers, she closed her eyes and waited. Through her lifelong training, she had gained the ability to traverse between shadows as if they were connected doorways. It took much of her strength, and had become harder with her turning her back on her god, Karak. But it could still be done, and upon the boat, there were many dark corners.
“I deny you,” she whispered, amusing herself with the thought that Karak actually heard. “But I take your power still.”
She dove underwater, swum directly beneath the boat, and then kicked toward the surface. Instead of striking the smooth underneath, she plunged wet and disorientated onto the deck. Taking in her surroundings, she leapt from behind a crate toward the lone alert guard. He’d turned, having heard the thump of her landing, but not yet realized someone had come aboard. Without slowing she lunged toward him, her daggers leading. One pierced his throat, preventing a death scream. The other slipped through his ribs and into his heart. The man convulsed for a few seconds, then fell limp at her feet.
The two sleeping sailors died where they slept, their throats slit. Afterward she paused, listening for any sort of alarm. She heard none, so into the hold below she went.
It couldn’t have been any more obvious. The hold was empty but for a single, solitary crate. Zusa tested its lid, but it was nailed shut, and she had nothing to open it with. Glancing about, she found a heavy sledgehammer and decided it would do. Surely no one would notice a minor commotion in the hold of a boat, not through its thick wooden walls. Lifting it, she smashed a hole through a side of the crate, then reached inside. It was mostly empty, and only after she pushed her whole arm
“Where have you hidden it?” she wondered aloud, overlooking the many docked boats, both grand and small. Creeping closer, she noted the ones she had already checked when Haern had thought she was slaughtering more thieves to alert the Wraith to their presence. Part of her was glad she had done so instead. She didn’t like the idea of more bodies hanging from the gallows because of her actions any more than Haern did.
One by one she went down the docks, lurking in the deep shadows of the clouded starlight. Any boat not owned by the Merchant Lords she skipped, but there were not many. The ones that were guarded she slipped past. Zusa wanted no commotion alerting any to her search. Crates and cargoes flashed before her eyes, yet as the night wore on, she could not find what she was looking for.
By the time she’d checked twenty ships and found nothing of note, she decided she needed a way to narrow down her search. If the merchant lords had any of their new product in Angelport, surely it would be kept well guarded. Focusing solely on the larger boats with visible guards, she continued on.
Her first pick was the Fireheart, which she recognized as one of Blackwaters’ boats. Alyssa had considered him the Merchant Lord to watch most closely. Three men stood near the top of the plank leading to the boat. Two were asleep at their posts, the third leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, watching the water lap against the dock. Two torches burned from posts halfway up the ramp. Zusa smiled at the setup. No doubt they thought the presence of so many would deter thieves. She almost wished they’d spent some time in Veldaren, among the presence of true thieves. Then they’d realize how little their guard meant. But between Keenan, the merchant lords, and Lord Murband, all the good thieves had abandoned the city for more opportune ground.
Zusa loved vulnerable targets.
She dove into the water a hundred yards away, and with careful patience, drifted toward the boat. The water was cold, but not enough to cause her any harm unless she stayed in it too long. Unseen she brushed against the side of the boat and used her hands to steady herself from going underneath. Above, she heard someone snoring. Grabbing her daggers, she closed her eyes and waited. Through her lifelong training, she had gained the ability to traverse between shadows as if they were connected doorways. It took much of her strength, and had become harder with her turning her back on her god, Karak. But it could still be done, and upon the boat, there were many dark corners.
“I deny you,” she whispered, amusing herself with the thought that Karak actually heard. “But I take your power still.”
She dove underwater, swum directly beneath the boat, and then kicked toward the surface. Instead of striking the smooth underneath, she plunged wet and disorientated onto the deck. Taking in her surroundings, she leapt from behind a crate toward the lone alert guard. He’d turned, having heard the thump of her landing, but not yet realized someone had come aboard. Without slowing she lunged toward him, her daggers leading. One pierced his throat, preventing a death scream. The other slipped through his ribs and into his heart. The man convulsed for a few seconds, then fell limp at her feet.
The two sleeping sailors died where they slept, their throats slit. Afterward she paused, listening for any sort of alarm. She heard none, so into the hold below she went.
It couldn’t have been any more obvious. The hold was empty but for a single, solitary crate. Zusa tested its lid, but it was nailed shut, and she had nothing to open it with. Glancing about, she found a heavy sledgehammer and decided it would do. Surely no one would notice a minor commotion in the hold of a boat, not through its thick wooden walls. Lifting it, she smashed a hole through a side of the crate, then reached inside. It was mostly empty, and only after she pushed her whole arm
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