Chapter 15

I glanced back through the window of The Stony Mug at the increasingly boisterous evening crowd. Along the back wall, a fierce dart competition was in progress and several card games had sprung up at various tables. A fiddler had struck up a lively tune and people had shoved some tables to one side to dance. I liked to dance and considered returning inside. But I didn't know anyone other than Ralph and Petra—I didn't think Shirley counted—and I would feel uncomfortable as a lone female.

Between sitting alone in my room, sitting alone in The Stony Mug, and trolling the taverns for Jareth, my options for the evening were depressing. With a sigh, I drifted along the cobblestones toward home. After a moment, it occurred to me that perhaps I could help find whoever was poisoning the harbor. I didn't need to trail after Remy like a lost puppy; I could go myself. He didn't even need to know.

The idea of having information to share with Keillan was appealing, and I could leave a message for him at the Salty Anchor. I might well see something from the rooftops that Remy couldn't learn from the ground. With renewed enthusiasm, I picked up my pace and headed to the docks at a trot.

A few blocks away from the harbor, I stopped and climbed the drainpipe of a small building with a tattoo parlor on the first floor and living space above. Once on the slate roof, I quickly made my way across the rooftops to the Sageport Customs House. I perched atop a gable that directly overlooked the waterfront and settled in to keep watch.

Voices and music from the Salty Anchor, as well as from a nearby brothel, drifted through the still evening air. The ships themselves were dark and silent, with only the occasional creak or thump as they bumped against the piers. The widely spaced gas lamps cast small islands of light on the shadowy planks of the wooden quay, the only illumination on a moonless night.

It wasn't long before movement caught my attention and I saw a stealthy figure slipping between the pools of light. Their ability to blend into the shadows was uncanny, and it was pure chance I'd noticed them at all. Hanging cautiously over the edge to see better, I mentally added spyglass to the list of things I should purchase the next time I had money. For a moment, I thought I might have already caught the culprit and was about to congratulate myself when I realized I recognized the way the figure moved.

It was Remy. He must have taken his time because I had not expected to arrive first. I was about to sit back and resume my surveillance when curiosity poked at me, and I just had to know how he planned to gather the information. He was supposed to be mentoring me, but he was evasive when it came to questions about his methods and contacts. If I wanted to learn, I'd have to find out myself.

I slipped over the roofs, keeping him in sight from a distance. I jumped over two narrow alleys between buildings and was preparing for a third jump when I noticed he had stopped and turned into the gap. After dropping flat on my belly, I wriggled across the slate until I could peek down into the space below. Remy crouched on the far side and, after fumbling at the wall, tugged out what looked like a loose brick.

Holding my breath, I inched a little closer and wondered if this was a place he left messages for a contact. If so, I would drop down after he left, read the message, and then return to the roof to see who picked it up. A little bubble of excitement welled up in my chest at the thought of getting one over on Remy.

Instead of putting a slip of parchment in the hole, or taking one out, he sat down and took off his boots. What in the hells was he doing? Sneaking around the docks barefoot? Then he stood and removed his vest, followed by an entire arsenal of knives that had been secreted all over his body. He placed all these items in the hole before reaching down and pulling off his shirt.

I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his lean, muscled form. Amber light spilled in from the gas lamp outside the alley, highlighting his well-defined abs and sculpted chest. His wasn't a warrior's heavy build, but the chiseled beauty of a gymnast. His skin was smooth and unblemished, and I was struck with the urge to run my fingers across the expanse of his chest. But I didn't move, afraid to break the spell his body had cast over me.

As if on cue, Remy turned slightly, giving me a better view of his broad shoulders and the definition of his back muscles as he leaned over. My eyes tracked down his spine to the waistband of his pants and I felt the flush of desire as I imagined following that trail with my tongue. With a deft movement, he dropped his pants to the ground beside his shirt.

I couldn't tear my gaze away from the sight of his toned legs and taut buttocks. Remy was a work of art, every muscle sharp and perfect. I imagined having his body pressed against mine once more—this time with no clothing between us. As he stood there, completely naked, a sudden heat bloomed between my legs. He placed his clothing in the hole, and as he started to turn around, I briefly closed my eyes.

When I opened them, he was gone. I leaned forward and peered up and down the alley but didn't see him. I thought I caught a glimpse of some sort of rodent scurrying from the alley, but no sign of Remy. Scrambling to the front of the building, I scanned the area, but he was nowhere on the quay. That was impossible. No one could move that quickly. And where would a naked man go?

I sat back on the roof and tried to make sense of his disappearance but couldn't. After a while, I decided that staring at a brick wall until Remy returned was pointless, so I went back to the Custom House roof to watch for the toxin dumpers. If he didn't show up at the guildhall the next morning, at least I knew where to find his knives.

Several hours later, my rump was numb and my spine stiff. Drunken sailors had staggered back to their berths quite some time ago and now the only movement was the regular rounds of the night watchman. The rhythmic splash of the water against the pier was hypnotic, and I struggled to remain awake. Until the thump of boots on wooden planks and a soft curse brought me to full alert.

Two men struggled across the wharf, grunting and straining to carry a large barrel. They staggered to the water's edge and nearly dropped their burden as they turned it on its end and set it down. One leaned on the barrel and wiped his forehead, while the other put his hands on his knees and wheezed. These must be the ones dumping alchemical poison, but I was frozen with indecision. I didn't know if I should intervene or simply follow them to help identify them for the authorities.

The man leaning on the barrel pried the lid off, and even from my perch on the roof, I could see a noxious green steam rise into the air. He leaned back sharply, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, and waving a hand in front of his nose.

"Hells, but that's nasty," he rasped. "Give a hand here and let's get this dumped."

The other straightened and placed his hands on one side of the barrel. Abruptly, I knew I couldn't sit still and let them pour that filth in the water. I cursed myself for once again being without my bow as I scrambled to the edge of the roof, turned, and hung from my fingertips. The brick wall was weathered and provided plenty of finger and toe holds, but I wasted precious seconds climbing down.

When I landed, they had tipped the barrel far enough for the green liquid to begin oozing into the harbor. Abandoning all stealth, I ran for them, diving and rolling at the last minute to hit one in the knees and knock him down. With a yell, he tumbled off the dock and into the harbor. The other appeared unwilling to dump the contents directly onto his partner and let the barrel rock back onto the quay. I danced away to avoid the poison that sloshed over the side.

"Why, you little bitch," the man snarled as he stretched forward to grab me.

I spun out of his reach, my muscles coiled and ready for his next move. He lunged at me again, and I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist and using his momentum to throw him to the ground. He landed with a bellow, but quickly scrambled to his feet, face mottled and nostrils flaring. I could hear his partner splashing in the water and knew it wouldn't be long before he managed to climb the stairs built into the docks that sailors used during low tide.

The man facing me withdrew a knife from his pocket and threw it. It spun end over end, but I ducked, and it clattered on the cobblestones behind me. Even though I was only able to hit the guildhall target one time, I pulled out the knife Remy had given me and cocked my arm. Suddenly, the man began hollering and hopping on one leg.

Still holding my knife, I glanced around, trying to understand what was happening. Then I saw a large brown rat with black-ticked fur had its teeth firmly clamped on the man's calf. It seemed determined to tear out a chunk of flesh. The man flailed at the rat and kicked his leg, but the ferocious little beast held on. I gaped at the two of them for several heartbeats before regaining my senses and hurling my knife.

To my pleased surprise, it hit the man. Only in the shoulder, but I couldn't believe I'd managed it at all. No doubt the rodent distraction helped, but I was grateful for any assistance.

After several more violent gyrations, the man finally succeeded in dislodging the rat and sent it flying. With a roar, he pulled the knife from his shoulder and ran down the street. The rat got up, shook himself, and ran after the man with all the fury of an enraged faehound. I stood on the wharf, eyes wide and jaw slack, watching them depart.

Coughing and cursing echoed behind me, and I turned to find the second man floundering up the steps. With both hands, I picked up the lid to the barrel and smashed it on his head. He lost his footing and flopped face down on the steps. I scanned the docks frantically for the night watchman and saw his lantern bobbing down at the far end.

Having run out of ideas for subduing large men by myself, I started screaming. The distant lantern began bobbing more quickly, and I heard sailors climbing onto decks of some of the nearby ships. Perhaps the sound of fighting and yelling wasn't enough to stir their interest, but a woman's screams were. Without warning, my knees turned to jelly, and I sat on the quay with a plop. I put my head between my knees and waited for the calvary to arrive.