Excerpt

The docks in Allspices never stopped. Thiias had seen them at dusk and at dawn, at midday and at midnight and at all the times between. Under clear skies and in heavy downpours.

Two dozen piers. Easily threescore ships. And all of them with something happening, day or night.

Thiias had seen bigger towns. To say nothing of the great cities, like Iskara. But never had he seen one whose docks were so ceaselessly busy.

To say nothing of the businesses along those docks. The warehouses and taverns and brothels and more, so much more. Many of those businesses kept their doors open late into the night. Some never closed at all.

A thousand sights and sounds and smells. More than enough to rouse any man's blood. Every want or need a man might have, all of them could be slaked down here on the docks.

Yes, many pleasures awaited on docks like these. More importantly, many opportunities…

Tonight, though, Thiias wasn't working for himself. No, tonight, he had a job to do for Cole, and that had to be top priority. Cole never settled for his jobs being anything less than top priority. And Thiias, well, he just wasn't in that big a hurry to find out what kind of afterlife awaited men like him.

All the same. Best to keep his eyes and ears open. Never knew when opportunity would lift her skirts. And a man had to be ready, or she'd turn her smiles to someone else.

Right now, Thiias stood at the foot of Pier Twelve. Waiting. Waiting for the Whitecap. Cole said it would be here about dusk, and gods knew that the infernal glow off that elf-infested forest had finally died down to little more than a distant flicker.

Took forever for the sun to set around Allspices, with that forest lighting up the sky like it did.

Pier Twelve was one of the oldest piers on the docks. Thiias had heard once that it was originally Pier Three. Then Pier Eight. And if they expanded again, it would probably become Pier Sixteen or something.

But for now, it was Pier Twelve. Of that same aged white wood that all the oldest buildings in Allspices were made from. Solid and heavy and reliable, and hard to obtain anymore. At least, for anything like a reasonable price.

Four ships were currently moored at Pier Twelve, and all of them out closer to the far end of the pier. Because whatever local connections their captains had were good enough to get a central pier, but not good enough to get a prime berth, like awaited the Whitecap.

At the foot of the central pier, smack dab in the middle of the docks. Close to everything.

Two taverns running full bore hardly more than fifty steps from where Thiias stood. Drunken singing and drunken laughter. Best advertising any tavern could have.

About four big wagons stacked high with cargo were rolling past along the cobblestone streets. Easily two dozen sailors milled about afoot. And maybe a like number of people who preyed on sailors, one way or another.

No one from the watch or the dockmaster's office nearby of course. No, they'd all "just happen" to be elsewhere, until the Whitecap was berthed, and Thiias and his people were gone and away with Cole's special cargo.

That crowd, though. That seemingly endless crowd. It was just so tempting.

Right now, without even trying, Thiias could see … four perfect targets for a quick robbery. Six others who'd be easy to take down and sell as crew to one of the more unsavory ships in port. The Tailspin maybe. They always needed crew, and paid pretty well for them.

Thiias shook away those thoughts, and others like them. He wasn't here for himself, tonight. Later maybe, but not yet. Cole's thing came first.

The southern wind was chilly, so Thiias pulled his leather jacket a little tighter, and blew on his hands. His pants were leather too, but his shirt was undyed roughspun, fastened with toggles. Had four good knives concealed on his person, and one obvious long knife, to dissuade any from thinking him unarmed. He wore a black watch cap over his short black curls, and leaned against a dock post.

Waiting. Seemed sometimes that he spent half his life waiting.

He had eleven men with him. Well, he had three, really. Three who knew the score. Three he could count on, if there was trouble. The other eight, they were just dockhands. The kind who hung around the docks, waiting, because someone always had cargo to move from one place to another, and needed some strong backs to move it.

They'd do the carrying. The dockhands. They'd get the cargo off the Whitecap and onto his cart. His real crew, they were there as guards and facilitators. Thiias wasn't sure exactly what Cole was moving tonight, but if Cole was moving it, someone else would want it.

Would they want it bad enough to try to steal from Cole? Probably not. Too much risk.

Never knew, though. Some folks, they seemed to want to rush themselves to their afterlife.

The incoming ship bells rang, and Thiias saw the a ship that had to be the Whitecap. Cutting water against the current as easy as a dwarf mason cut stone.

"Up, you lazy bastards," Thiias called down to his waiting hands. All of them milling about. Stamping their feet for warmth. Shoving hands under their pits, and hunching like they had no respect for themselves.

Wasn't even that cold. Thiias spat down onto the dock near them.

"Once the Whitecap ties off, we got sixteen crates to move. Sixteen. You'll know 'em by the red crescent moon symbol. They'll be at the back of the top cargo hold. Ike. Make sure these idiots don't get lost."

Ike was a half-elf. Had the natural tan and the ears to be an elf, but his hair was the wrong color. Too much a human dark blond, just like his eyes were closer to a human hazel instead of an elf color, like chocolate or tanbark or strawberry or something. And his jaw and his cheekbones, too thick for an elf.

Thiias didn't know what Ike's real name was. The guy didn't use it. There was some elf word tattooed behind his right ear that, rumor had it, meant "outcast." Everyone called him "Ike" because that was the first syllable of that word.

Ike had an ugly burn scar on the left side of his neck, but somehow had enough elf charm to him that he could still give people the smile and they'd trust him. If they didn't know him. So Ike was a good one to send onto ships like this. People'd talk to him. Let on things they might not let on with someone else.

One or two of the dockhands bristled at being called an idiot. But a flat look from Thiias was enough to quash any feelings of protest.

There were people in this world that Thiias had to take crap from. But dockhands like these were not on that list.

"Once the cargo's loaded, you dockhands are done." Thiias slapped a leather pouch at his belt. "See me for your copper. After that cart's loaded to my satisfaction."

It was a simple job. Move some crates. One of the simplest that Thiias had been given in a long time.

He didn't trust it for a second.