Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
“How did it go?” Shana asked.
“I will never complain about a forced march again,” he said, his eyes still closed. “This was worse than Egendarr.”
Lute grinned. “Hey, Will? Let’s spar.”
Will didn’t bother looking at him. “Are you tired of living?”
Lute chuckled.
“A day of honest work is good for you once in a while,” Gort said.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ve had enough honesty till next year. I’m full up.”
“The salt ship?” Reynald asked.
Will opened his eyes. “Coming on Fifday, like you said.”
We had two days to prepare.
“We’ll be unloading early,” Will continued.
“How early?” Gort asked.
“They warned us to be there by four bells.”
Four AM. They didn’t want anyone to pay too much attention to that salt, so they would unload it before the wharf filled with workers.
“This might be harder than we thought,” Will said. “They watch us closely.”
“How many guards?” Reynald asked.
“Two, and three clerks on the warehouse crew.”
Gort grunted. “We’ll need a diversion.”
“It will have to be something flashy,” Will said. “Their guards are dedicated.”
Silence fell.
“How is the pier lit?” Reynald asked.
“Reinforced barrels with logs,” Will said. “One on each side of the pier where it joins the wharf and two along the pier’s length. Lanterns inside the warehouse.”
Reynald’s face turned thoughtful. He walked over, picked up bar #17, and smelled it. “In the north, they make soap out of gorefish blubber instead of tallow.”
“Tallow is better,” Shana said. “If gorefish blubber catches fire, it flares up. They make oil out of it and use it for Kair Toren’s lighthouses.”
Reynald looked at Clover, then at Kaiden.
“How fast are you?”
“Very fast,” Kaiden said.
Reynald took our mixing bucket, walked over to the wine tree, and set the bucket on the stone wall wrapping around the tree. Then he went back to the bench and picked up a round helmet.
What was he up to?
Reynald waved Kaiden over. Kaiden trotted to him. Reynald gave the helmet to him and drew an invisible line on the stone with his foot.
“Stand here.”
Kaiden stood.
“Toss the helmet into the bucket.”
Kaiden threw the helmet. It bounced off the rim and clattered to the ground. Bucketball, not Kaiden’s best talent.
“Again,” Reynald said.
Kaiden chased the helmet down and tossed it into the bucket again. This time it landed.
Bucket, gorefish blubber, diversion . . .
Oh. I got it.
“Safely,” I said. “If anyone gets hurt, it’s not worth it.”
“I remember,” Reynald told me. “Trust me.”
“Question.” Lute raised his hand. “Why are we going through all this trouble for some overpriced salt?”
Because the fate of the kingdom depended on it. “Get me that barrel and I will explain everything,” I said.
CHAPTER 15
PLANTER 14
I leaned on the wall of Spotter’s Rampart. Behind me lay the city, shrouded in darkness. In front of me most of the harbor was dark, too, except for this stretch of the Combs. Large barrels dotted the wharf and the Yolentas’ pier, blazing with orange flames. Each barrel came with a polished metal circle affixed to the rim. It jutted straight up, like a wheel on a cart, reflecting the light from the fires and illuminating a chunk of the pier like a streetlamp.
A huge ship floated at the end of the pier, its carved hull wide, almost bloated compared to the graceful, leaner waverunner moored at the next dock. The waverunners were built for speed, while the Yolentas’ trade vessels were meant to carry as much cargo as safely possible.
At the end of the pier, a small harbor crane swung back and forth. On board the ship, dim shapes loaded barrels onto the crane platform. Once full, the crane swung to the pier, and a couple of burly workers heaved the barrels onto handcarts.
A line of dockworkers moved along the pier, carting barrels to the warehouse and returning to the ship with the empty carts, like worker ants marching from the anthill to a picnic and back again. One of these workers was Will, but from this distance I couldn’t tell where he was. They were all large men, pushing identical handcarts, and the orange glow reduced them to dark silhouettes.
Next to me, Shana peered at the line of dockworkers. We waited side by side, wrapped in our cloaks.
A gust of wind swirled around me, flinging cold marine air in my face. I shivered.
“I need to make you a shawl,” Shana murmured.
“It’s almost summer.”
“Yes, and if I start now, it will be done by the fall.”
“We’ll have to live that long.”
“That’s your job. Keep us breathing.”
The human conveyor belt below kept moving. The person behind this scheme was very careful. The first and last batches of barrels, twenty-five each, would contain only pink salt. We needed to target the barrels in the middle batch, roughly a hundred of them, marked with a small triangle burned into the lid. The burn mark was so small, only someone looking for it would notice it. There wasn’t a lot of light on that pier. The easiest way to find it was by feel.