These past few days, everyone in Solace Port had heard the news: a ship had returned with treasure. From the Harbor District to the Cathedral, there wasn't a soul who didn't know.
While everyone's impoverished imagination remained stuck on heading north to the Ice Plains to pan for gold among the barbarians, a ship returning from the south had pioneered a completely different approach.
William stood at the stern with his arms crossed. The jubilant sailors praised their captain's wisdom and generosity as they scattered into a haze of gaudy, cheap glass, like a vast net cast by an old fisherman into shimmering waters.
A few unlucky souls who had drawn the short straw stayed behind to guard the ship, watching enviously as their crewmates rushed into buildings with suggestive signs, pockets full of double pay and gold coins.
These were the second group of sailors to disembark. They would carry the news to the city's taverns, houses of special services, and churches—the busy places where rumor-mongers loved to gather. The gold coins in their hands would serve as proof. The captain didn't need to tell them what to do. He knew his men well: people who could spend days bragging about any old nonsense in a tavern weren't going to keep quiet about the gold they'd gotten.
"Not going ashore to unwind?"
"No. I don't want to go ashore. If I weren't waiting for our hidden client, I wouldn't even have come into port. I'd have let the boys row themselves over in little boats." William took a deep breath of the sea fog, steeped in booze and perfume. It was as thin as a veil, tempting him to lift it and glimpse what it only half concealed.
He'd actually tried. The moment he stepped onto the stone pier,