The two Swords, a larger, older one and a younger man, perhaps a student, pulled their dieren to a halt and looked around. Naitachal, Alaire and Lyam crouched even lower, keeping as still as possible. Their hiding place was not a good one. If the Swords looked closely they would probably see someone skulking there.
Lyam's left foot began slipping; to avoid falling, he shifted his weight to the other foot. In so doing, he inadvertently pulled it free of the mud and slush. The sucking sound was terribly loud in the still night air.
Alaire cringed. He clutched the wanning hilt of his sword so hard it hurt.
But the Swords just looked around, without paying any attention to the sound. Evidently they expected to hear things like that. After several long moments, the riders resumed their journey.
As soon as they were gone, Lyam motioned Alaire and Naitachal to come closer. They put their heads so closely together the steam of their breath mingled into a single plume. "We're not far from the dock. My men are closer to the piers. They're not likely to recognize you, but the Swords, if they happen by again, will. Be ready to hide." He checked the street, and declared the way clear.
Along the pier were a few noisy taverns, catering mainly to sailors. Not people who would know of the crisis in the palace, or care even if they heard. Until, of course, whatever the King did up the hill affected them, personally. Perhaps the Arachnean sailors are here, he thought. If I listen, maybe I'll hear the right accent.
But this was not the Captain's destination. Lyam led them past these taverns to the edge of the pier, a long shelf of stone constructed along a rocky shore, with tongues of wood sticking out into the bay. Alaire stiff- ened when he saw the three Royal Guardsmen, standing casually at the end of the pier.
But then he realized that three men were not enough to patrol the area effectively -- not if they were expected to look for fugitives. Is this what they call sealing the port? Alaire wondered. He had imag- ined legions of Royal Guardsmen on the alert, watching the pier, patrolling the side streets in num- bers. But no, there were only the three, one of whom seemed to be half-asleep. All the better for us, Alaire thought. And for the first time, he began to have some confidence in the Captain's plan of escape.
Lyam led them to the pier boldly, as if he was escorting a couple of sightseers on an evening expedi- tion. When the three guards saw Captain Lyam approaching, all three leaped to attention, the drowsy one visibly trying to feign alertness.
"At ease," Lyam said. The three young soldiers were clearly nervous. Apparently Lyam caught them doing something they shouldn't while on duty: relaxing. "Any sign of trouble tonight?"
"None, sir," the largest, and apparently eldest, reported. "The night has been quiet."
"Indeed," Lyam said thoughtfully. "Chances are, it will stay that way. The search for the renegade magi- cian has concentrated in the tavern district. Reports of sightings have all come from there. Nevertheless, stay at your post until further notice. We are going to inspect the docks."
"Yes, sir," the soldiers said, in unison. Lyam and his party of two proceeded unhindered. It was that easy.
Under the full moon Alaire saw a long row of dark, lifeless ships moored to the wooden piers. Apparently their crews were down below, or in the taverns. Must be later than I thought.
"Erik should already be here," Lyam said, but worry was evident in his voice. Then, from a shadow beside them, sprung a small shape.
Erik grinned up at them, spirits undampened.
"Here I am, Father," he said with his high-pitched voice. "The Arachnean ship is at the very end. It's a schooner, with a wooden lady up front."
His father smiled. "Very well, then," Lyam said.
"Shall we proceed, gentlemen?
Alaire should have felt exhilarated at this point, but something was keeping him from any such emotion.
Partly, he thought, this was because Kai was doome But partly he had a horrible feeling that something was wrong with this escape, that Lyam had overlooked something. The dock seemed impossibly long in the moonlight, but the sea was calm, with only a mild breeze in the air. Water lapped lightly against the dock.
In the bright moonlight he caught a glimpse of Nai- tachal, clutching his harp, his expression grim. Their eyes met briefly, and Alaire knew that he, too, felt impending doom. Alaire reached under his cloak and clutched the hilt of his blade again. It was still warm.
Then Naitachal stopped walking. Lyam looked back, with a questioning look. Alaire paused also, turn- ing to see what, if anything, was following them.
"What's wrong?" Captain Lyam asked. "Did you hear something?"
"This isn't right," Naitachal replied in a whisper.