The Brutality was moored at the southernmost dock, sitting low in her berth like a shark prowling still waters. Her shape, long and lean, reminded Cobiah of the Havoc, but no engine chugged in this brig's lower decks. She had two masts standing fore and aft rather than parallel, and her sails were square-rigged in the way of charr military vessels. Her hull was painted a dark charcoal gray, like raw primer left to dry. Xeres Gr.i.m.j.a.w and his warband bragged that it made her harder to see against the ocean. Sykox claimed it was a tribute to their legion: Ash.

The s.h.i.+p had two decks, with a thick hull designed to ram; she could take plenty of damage and still remain afloat, but that didn't leave the Brutality with much s.p.a.ce to carry freight. As with most charr vessels, it was lightly crewed, and only two warbands-the Grim warband, and another called the Zeal warband-kept her running on long journeys up and down the coast. Those two warbands comprised fifteen sailors between them, plus three more that Sykox and Fa.s.sur snidely referred to as "honorless gladium" because they didn't have a warband. Cobiah understood what that meant. Most humans didn't.

The charr were also in the habit of maintaining a guard on their wharf. Day and night, at least two armed soldiers stood watch at the beach end of the pier. The Brutality had few visitors; charr s.h.i.+ps were relatively rare, as the great cats weren't a particularly seagoing people, and other races didn't tend to make social calls on Gr.i.m.j.a.w's men. Cobiah stood in an alley across from the dock, rubbing his hand against his cheek as he contemplated the Brutality.

"What are you thinking?" Isaye whispered, pressing back against the wall.

Macha interrupted, "Tell me it's not the ear thing. Even if you could lift a charr, Coby, you just don't have hands enough for all four of their ears. Please tell me-" Cobiah clapped a hand over the excited asura's mouth before her chattering could attract attention. The sun was up over Lion's Arch, and the streets were filling with people going about their morning ch.o.r.es. Shops were opening, fishermen were gathering their nets and heading out on the tide, and the charr were changing guard on their pier.

"Hush," Cobiah hissed. Sullenly, Macha nodded, and he let her go.

"Force won't work. We have to use guile," said Isaye.

"Macha, can you make us look like charr?"

The asura nodded, braids bouncing. "Sure, but it lasts only about five minutes. We wouldn't even make it to the end of the dock."

Cobiah cursed and struggled to think of another way.

"I've got an idea," said Isaye. "Give me a few minutes and then head for the s.h.i.+p. You'll know when to move." She smiled, glancing down the street with sudden enthusiasm.

"What are you going to do?" Macha snorted. "s.e.x it up to distract them?"

Isaye glared at the little mesmer. "By the Six G.o.ds! These are charr, not wharf rats. Get your mind out of the gutter." She poked her head around the corner and took another look at the dock. "I'm going to give them the one thing no charr can resist. When that happens, you get in the water, slip up the anchor chain, and see if you can find anything that tells us whether Gr.i.m.j.a.w made that bomb. I'll meet you at the Captain's Council later.

"And, by the way," Isaye added, "I'd recommend you cover your faces in case you find yourself creeping into their sleeping area."

"So they won't recognize us?" Cobiah asked.

"No." Isaye winked, slipping around the corner. "So you don't get knocked unconscious by the smell." She blended into the crowd easily, striding toward the wharf. As she approached the wharf, she singled out in the crowd someone along the way, raising her hand to catch the man's attention.

"What's she doing?"

Macha tugged on his sleeve. "No time. Whatever that crazy Isaye is doing, it won't distract the charr for very long, so we'd better be in the water before she gets rolling." The two edged through the crowd to the harbor. The Brutality was on a shared wharf, and three potbellied asuran schooners were also docked down its length. Macha waved to one, pa.s.sing the time as if nothing of importance was happening, while Cobiah kept a watchful eye on the Brutality's guards.

Contemplating what Isaye could be doing, Cobiah leaned over the railing of the pier. He looked at the ocean churning far below, frothing in shades of white and gray against a cold, sandy beach. The wood of the railing was hard and cool, thick enough to walk on . . .

Did you really see a mermaid, Cobiah? A really-real one?

"Cobiah? Are you all right?" Several moments had pa.s.sed while he stood in fugue. Macha waited at his elbow, her black eyes wide with concern. "It's time to go. Isaye and Henst are making a distraction-"

"Henst?" Cobiah shook himself and raised his head.

The two charr at the end of the wharf were slouching, weary from a long night's watch. Their hands rested on the hilts of their weapons and their conversation was kept low. Cobiah could see Isaye and Henst sauntering past the pier, talking a little too loudly. Although he couldn't catch the words, Cobiah could hear their tone-snarky, taunting, and cruel. "By Balthazar," Cobiah said, faltering. "She's provoking them!"

"Using Henst as bait? Oh, that's genius. Imagine if old Grist was here to see this! He'd have joined in faster than you can say 'legerdemain.'" Macha eyed the fight with pure joy. "Isaye's right, though: if there's one thing those charr can't resist, it's battle. Better still if it's an opportunity to get their claws on ol' Mr. 'I'm the prince of Ascalon'!" Macha jumped up, grabbing the rail and pulling herself up to stand on it. "Shrewd. I would never have guessed that human woman had the brains to come up with a plan like that-it's positively asuran. Who knew? Let me get up here, and I can get a better look-"

Instinctively, Cobiah grabbed Macha around the waist and swung her down. His reaction was swift and violent. "What the blue blazes are you doing? That's dangerous! You could slip!"

"Cogswallop!" Macha yelped, shoving him away. "Coby! Ow, that hurt! What's your malfunction? I was just trying to see what they're doing!" Wincing, she grabbed her side where Cobiah's arm had slung her.

"You can see just fine from down here." Now that the adrenaline rush was pa.s.sing, Cobiah felt vaguely sick to his stomach. Images pa.s.sed before his eyes-a tiny black shoe with a rusty silver buckle beneath an old green blanket. A crowd of faces on the beach. His mother's curses . . . Cobiah stifled the thoughts, trying to calm down. Macha stared at him furiously. Awkwardly, he added, "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I was just trying to keep you safe."

The asura's demeanor softened. "I'm fine." Macha might have added something else, but she never had the chance. A roar on the charr dock grabbed their attention. As they watched, Henst slammed the b.u.t.t of a boat hook into a charr's belly. The second one charged the black-haired human, but Isaye hefted a huge coil of heavy rope at him. The wrist-thick strands of the coil, bundled together, slammed into the back of the second charr's knees. He buckled, toppling forward with a yelp of pain. Whatever Isaye and Henst had said to the charr, it had apparently worked. They were certainly distracted.

"Now, Coby," Macha insisted. "We have to go now!" She grabbed the rungs of a ladder that led down to the beach, but Cobiah stopped her.

"There's still a guard. Look there, on the s.h.i.+p." He pointed, and they could see a gruff-looking charr standing on the deck of the Brutality, watching the fight on the dock-but not moving. "I need you to cover me with an illusion, so he doesn't see me swimming out to the s.h.i.+p."

"But, Coby, I was going to go with you-"

"No time. You can't cast that spell and swim, can you?" When Macha shook her head despondently, Cobiah grabbed the ladder. "I need you here. Cast your spell and then keep an eye out. After I'm on board, head for the drunk tank. Isaye and Henst are going to need you to bail them out of jail." He shot her a smile.

Jumping onto the dock ladder, Cobiah climbed down, speeding along its length with the nimbleness of a moss spider. He pushed off the end of the ladder into the ocean, where the water was crisp and frigid, filled with the deep chill of the past night. He gasped as he sank into it. "Melandru's waggling a.r.s.e, that's cold!"

"Shhh! Swim quietly!" On the dock above, Macha began casting. Cobiah looked down and saw his hands, his arms, his entire body turning the same color as the sea. He paused to give Macha a thumbs-up, then realized she probably couldn't see it.

As Cobiah swam toward the s.h.i.+p, he could hear Isaye and Henst brawling with the two charr at the end of the dock. A crowd had gathered around them, taunting them and cheering on the fight. Henst had broken his boat hook in half and was pummeling one of the charr with a stick in each hand, while Isaye clapped the second guard over the head with the lid of a trash bin. Her opponent fell to the ground in a stupor, while his companion-momentarily escaping from Henst-tackled Isaye and bore her to the ground. n.o.body was paying any attention to the docks or the Brutality.

Cobiah wrapped his arms around the anchor chain and pulled himself up out of the water. "By Grenth." He hung there, s.h.i.+vering. "I think it's colder outside the water." Looping his arm through each chain link in turn, Cobiah pulled himself up toward the Brutality.

By the time he reached the s.h.i.+p's hull, his clothing had begun to dry, and the coloring that made him near invisible was fading. The fight on the docks had started to peter out as well. He could hear the Lionguard breaking things up on the pier, and the charr replacements for wharf guard duty were taking their places. Isaye, Henst, and the two night guards were clapped in handcuffs and dragged off to the town jail. Macha stood on the dock, watching him with dismay. Unable to soothe her worries, Cobiah pulled himself through a nearby porthole, rolling forward in an effort to be silent as he landed inside. She'd just have to trust that he'd be safe.

The darkness of the Brutality's cargo hold seemed impenetrable after the bright light of morning. Cobiah tried to see, but the room was little more than a dark blur after the brilliance of the morning sun. Sparkles of dust danced through the porthole window, glittering on the puddles of water around his feet. Kneeling behind a crate, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust, trying to pick out the details of the various boxes and kegs stacked within the Brutality's hold.

As Cobiah's eyes finally adjusted to the gloom, he could see that many of the crates in the hold were marked with warnings-"no fire," "no impact," "be careful around heat," and so forth. Near the stairs to the upper deck stood a workbench covered with tools. Cobiah edged his way toward it, glancing up at the sealed hatch in the ceiling, above the narrow staircase. Once there, Cobiah ran his hands over the implements curiously.

Cobiah studied the tools, trying to find something incriminating among the screwdrivers, pliers, clamps, and . . . other . . . things. Some of the devices looked like those he'd seen in Sykox's toolbox, while others were completely foreign. He picked up one of the rods and twisted the handle, watching the tip rotate with a metallic buzzing sound. "Ooooh. Interesting."

The hatch above creaked open with a sudden slam, and heavy boot steps pounded on the stairs into the hold. Thinking quickly, Cobiah ducked beneath the workbench. Realizing he was still holding the strange tool, he shoved it into his pocket with a silently mouthed curse. The sunlight had half blinded him when he first came into the hold. Maybe he'd get lucky and the charr would be similarly impaired. Or just not notice it was missing.

Voices bellowed from above as two charr made their way down into the hold. "A fight? By the lost Claw of the Khan-Ur. Can't I trust those Zeal warband morons with the simplest tasks?" The voice belonged to Gr.i.m.j.a.w, and he was complaining broadly as he stormed down the stairs. His first mate, a burly charr with a spiked orange mane, carried a lantern as he followed Gr.i.m.j.a.w into the hold. "Every single time I ask them to take duty, they end up in a brawl."

"What did you expect?" The first mate shrugged. "They're Blood Legion. You knew that when you signed them aboard."

"Yeah, I knew it. But I figured they'd at least need to take breaths between fights. This has been a nonstop problem, Krokar. They're a complete waste of good munitions. We should have hired crew from our own legion, Ash." Gr.i.m.j.a.w walked among the crates in the hold, but the first mate paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Then we'd be on task for silent sailing."

"Couldn't find 'em," Krokar said. "Blood was all the fort had to offer." He watched as Gr.i.m.j.a.w moved through the crates, opening one after the other. "What'd ya need down here, Legionnaire?"

"First plan didn't work." Gr.i.m.j.a.w scowled, pus.h.i.+ng crates around. "Well, the bomb we sent to the Nomad worked fine, but that skritt-sucking courier screwed it all up. Now we've got a new plan, and that means we need another bomb." He stuck his muzzle inside one of the boxes, sniffing its contents to detect what was inside. "Blew up a whole d.a.m.n s.h.i.+p and still missed the target. We're in for it if we don't come up with something else-and quick. The meeting's this afternoon, and if that vote goes the wrong way, we could lose everything."

"Look, we did everything the boss wanted. What more can he ask?" Krokar complained.

"He asked us to do it right, and we chumped it, Krokar. This guy may not be a tribune or even a charr, but he's dead-on dangerous. We screw this up again, and he just might toss a torch into our hold himself."

The first mate groused, "C'mon, Gr.i.m.j.a.w. This is ridiculous. Why can't we just seize the s.h.i.+ps we want? If we commandeer them, we don't have to work with this human at all."

"Commandeer them with what crew? We had a hard enough time finding troops to sail the Brutality. We're only eighteen charr, and we're promised six more s.h.i.+ps. You think three charr can crew a clipper? A galleon? How about the Pride-do you think three lone charr can sail that s.h.i.+p? That engine's the key to my promotion to the rank of tribune, and I'll do whatever I have to do to get it.

"Shut up and bite your tongue 'til this thing's over. We've got to have his help if we're going to attack Orr, tub face. Use your brain," Gr.i.m.j.a.w groused, ripping another crate open to poke at the contents.

Cobiah stiffened. His hand clenched the table leg as he willed himself to stay silent. He didn't think he could take the two charr in a fight, but he was still willing to try. They wanted to steal his s.h.i.+p? What was this "plan," and who were they working with?

"Aha. This'll do the trick." Gr.i.m.j.a.w held up another bomb, this one made of gunpowder rods that the charr used for deep mining. The captain rolled a length of fuse around his wrist and tucked the explosive into his vest.

"What're we going to do with that?" Krokar tilted his head as Gr.i.m.j.a.w stomped back through the hold.

An evil grin curled the charr captain's muzzle. Gr.i.m.j.a.w clapped his first mate on the shoulder as he headed back to the stairs. "We're improvising, Krokar," he said, gloating. "The first bomb failed. But I'm going to go one better. I'm going to set this one where it can do us even more good."

"Where's that?" Krokar asked.

"Inside the Captain's Council. When all the captains are dead, he'll be able to take over the city. Then we'll get our s.h.i.+ps. Good, huh?"

"Kill the other captains?" A slow dawn of comprehension rose over Krokar's dull features. "Hey, that's good! Then you'll be in control of the council!"

"Right you are. We'll make him king of Lion's Arch, I'll get the s.h.i.+ps and crew we need to attack Orr, and I'll have the Pride." The snaggletoothed charr laughed, low and dangerous.

The first mate chuckled with him. "Then we attack Orr."

"Then we attack Orr, right. Trust me, the boss's going to love this plan." Gr.i.m.j.a.w's boots shook the boards of the staircase as he marched toward the Brutality's upper deck. "Come on. We've got to get to the pavilion and set this bomb before the others arrive."

Krokar followed, and the two charr slammed the hatch behind them, locking it from the far side. Cobiah wriggled out from under the workbench. "Those murderous sea sharks!" he seethed. "I've got to get back to the docks and . . ." As he made his way toward the porthole, the depth of the problem unfolded in his mind.

Once Gr.i.m.j.a.w knew the jig was up, he'd stop talking. The charr had powerful friends, and whoever was behind this plan was willing to go to great lengths to make sure it worked. If he didn't handle this just right, he'd lose his only lead toward finding the real traitor. Cobiah slowed, bowing his head in frustration. As much as he wanted to rush after Gr.i.m.j.a.w and attack, that wouldn't solve the problem.

Cobiah squared his shoulders and looked out the porthole, watching as the far dock cast its morning shadow over the turquoise waves. King of Lion's Arch. Cobiah pondered the words. Whom had Gr.i.m.j.a.w meant? Nodobe, probably, but it could have been anyone. By the Mists, it might not even be a captain. Gr.i.m.j.a.w's "boss" could be anyone with a vested interest in the council's vote. Cobiah's mind filled with scenarios, but with little time and few avenues of information, he kept coming back to the same thought.

I have to let Gr.i.m.j.a.w set the bomb. Cobiah pondered. He's not going to blow himself up. When Gr.i.m.j.a.w finds an excuse to leave the council meeting, I'll see who goes with him. That's how I'll be able to tell whom he's working with. Cobiah gripped one of the crates angrily, closing his eyes at the thought.

They'll be leaving the rest of us to die.

It was nearly noon by the time Cobiah escaped the Brutality's hold. He was forced to wait until harbor traffic slowed before he could slip back down the anchor chain into the sea. Wet and angry, he swam to sh.o.r.e a few piers down from the charr dock. There, Cobiah pulled off his boots with a grimace. He dumped two long streams of water onto the sand. There was no time to change his clothes or shower. The captains' meeting would begin in less than an hour, and he had to get there quickly. Cobiah shook the sand from his clothing as best he could and headed into the city streets.

Lion's Arch was filled with hustle and bustle: merchants selling their wares and eager crewmen on leave spending time in the city. Cobiah would usually have enjoyed a stroll through the alleys, but today he had no time for pleasantries or idle curiosity. He made his way toward the pavilion on the cliff with hurried steps.

Near the center of the city, he detoured to pa.s.s the primary Lionguard outpost, where Captain Duserm's militia was releasing two battered charr into the street. "You're lucky!" Duserm scolded them. "Next time I catch you fighting on the docks, I won't let you out of the drunk tank for three days!" He chuckled at their discontent, his portly belly bouncing over a tightly cinched belt. Noting Cobiah, the captain stiffened and managed a halfhearted salute. "Captain M-M-Marriner," he stammered, "what brings you down here?"

"Captain Isaye," Cobiah answered. "Is she in there?"

"No, sir." Duserm gave him a lopsided grin. "Got bailed out a half hour ago by your asuran pilot, both the captain and her mate. They headed that way." He gestured vaguely toward the pavilion.

"Right." Ignoring the man's attempts to make polite conversation, Cobiah renewed his haste toward the council building. He could hear Duserm's voice fading behind him; he was muttering something about the discourtesy of those in charge.

Cobiah took the steps to the pavilion three at a time, bustling up toward the high cliff. He could see some of the captains already gathered at the front door of the building. A voice caught his attention, and he paused to look along the building's side.

Henst stood there, bristling, hands on his weapons. In front of him stood Macha, a sword belt wrapped over her shoulder, the cutla.s.s poking out like Bronn Svaard's ever-present greatsword. "How dare you try to blackmail me!" Henst snarled. "You conniving little runt!"

"I got you out of that mess."

"You got me into it!"

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing, Henst?" Cobiah strode up to them angrily. "Leave her alone."

"Marriner." Eyes flas.h.i.+ng, Henst rounded on Cobiah. "Don't tell me what to do."

Impulsively, Macha seized Henst's distraction to stomp on his foot with all her might, causing the dark-haired warrior to let out a screech of surprise and pain. "Show some grat.i.tude, you fish-livered blackguard, or next time"-she shoved him backward-"I'll leave you in prison where you belong!" Henst hopped up and down, looking for a moment as if he might draw his swords, but Cobiah stepped close to meet the Ascalonian's eyes.

"Do we need to have this little lesson again, Henst?" Cobiah's voice was calm, but his eyes were fierce. "Leave my crew alone."

"You heard him," Macha added smugly from behind Cobiah's legs.

Visibly losing his eagerness for the fight, Henst gathered himself and stepped back. His black eyes were heated and his face red from anger, but he managed to speak in an even tone. "Fine," he said tensely. "But I don't owe you anything, Macha. If I have to pay, then so will you." He shot a nasty glance at the asura.

Cobiah glowered. "That's enough, Henst."

Henst turned on his heel and limped toward the pavilion, trying to salvage his pride. Cobiah mused smugly, pleased at his rival's discomfort. Few things put him in a better mood than taking the wind out of the Ascalonian's sails. "What was that all about?"

Macha smiled sweetly, hugging Cobiah's legs. "I told him that he had to pay me back the money for his bail. He didn't agree." She stuck out her tongue at the man's back as he retreated. "Oh, and I brought your sword." Macha slipped the belt over her shoulder and held out the weapon in its scabbard. "I thought you might need it, given how today's going."

Cobiah laughed out loud. "Thanks, Macha." Before she could dart away into the building, Cobiah reined her in by the braids. "Hang on. I need to tell you what I found on Gr.i.m.j.a.w's s.h.i.+p." She paused and looked up at him inquisitively, and Cobiah pitched his voice low. "We were right. Gr.i.m.j.a.w made that bomb. And it's not the only one. He had another, and he's hidden it somewhere in the Captain's Council."

Macha's eyes flew wide open. "Inside the building?"

"Yeah." Cobiah nodded, buckling the sword belt around his waist. "It's all right, though. I have a plan. Gr.i.m.j.a.w's not going to set off the bomb while he's inside the building. All we have to do is wait until he tries to leave and then see who he takes with him. That's how we'll know who he's working with." Macha started to protest, but Cobiah cut her off. "Yes, I know it's dangerous. But it's our only hope to find out who's really behind this."

"Cobiah, this isn't someone you can bluff or a s.h.i.+p you can outmaneuver. This is a bomb. What if Gr.i.m.j.a.w set it wrong? What if the real villain isn't even in there and sets it off before Gr.i.m.j.a.w's ready?" Macha grabbed Cobiah's sleeve. "This is a crazy plan, Cobiah. We should tell the others what's going on and get out of here. Why are we risking our lives?"

"If we do that, we've foiled one plan, but we haven't caught the culprit. They'll try again, and next time they'll catch us by surprise."

"Is this city really that important?" she pleaded. "Enough to get killed over? Look, we could just sail away and let this all sort itself out. The Pride-"

Cobiah put his hand on Macha's shoulder. "Macha, you're a good friend, and you've been with me through some very difficult times. I don't know if I ever really told you how much you mean to me. I've been busy lately, and it's taken me away from you and the others. I'm sorry. Maybe that makes me a bad friend. If it does, I hope you forgive me."

Macha placed her hand over his. "You've never been anything but good to me, Cobiah. I'd do anything for you. I'd die for you. Like Verahd did for Isaye. You're my captain."

"Then you understand how important this is. Lion's Arch is the first city that's really been a home to all the people of Tyria, no matter what race they are, or where they come from. It's known real freedom." He slid his hand away and headed up the stairs. "That's worth fighting for."

As Cobiah walked toward the building, Macha looked up at the sky, pursing her lips, and then down at the cobblestones that ran through the city streets. Then she followed him, dragging her feet reluctantly up the stairs toward the pavilion.

Hedda and Moran were already seated at the table, arguing over some point of seafaring lore. Gr.i.m.j.a.w was sitting near the others, his long claws tapping the table in a slow, calculated rhythm. Isaye was there, too, sitting beside Nodobe, their seconds chatting pleasantly behind them.

Isaye appeared no worse for wear from her fight on the docks or her time in detention. She'd apparently been able to arrange a change of clothing, and she had placed a small bandage over her eye where a blow had split the skin. Nodobe took her arm as they laughed over some story, his broad smile shockingly white against ebony skin. The familiarity rankled, but Cobiah was so glad to see her alive and well that the feeling washed away like water over a drake's back. She noticed Cobiah at the door and gave him a joyful smile.

As soon as Cobiah entered the council room, the asuran captain, Tarb, strode toward him, muttering in a dark tone. "Marriner, I want to talk to you," Tarb said. "Right here and right now."

Cobiah slowed. "What's the problem, Tarb?" he said cautiously, struggling to appear interested while keeping an eye on the five at the table.

"Why aren't you willing to compromise on the Claw Island thing? It's been years since they started building on the island, and it could be years more before they're done. What I'm calling for will help the city now. A bank. More shops. Are you deliberately stifling the city's growth?" Tarb puffed up like a little rooster. Behind him walked his second, Gamina, carrying a tablet on which she was taking notes.