“Sir.”
“Nothing about that in Armagan’s notes, though.”
“Sir.”
“Did anyone tell çem about that theory?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Did çe have anyone look around?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“Hm.” Kadou looked back at the wood pile. “It would make sense—why bring your own battering ram when you can borrow one for free right next door?” But it would have been in Armagan’s notes.
Unless, of course, there was a reason for it to be missing.
“All right,” Kadou said. “Let’s go look. Go get a lantern or something from one of those guards at the door.” Both moons hung full directly above them, silvery-bright and blue-grey. More than enough light to go wandering, but not enough to look for something specific.
“Sir,” Evemer said, a flatness to his tone that Kadou was almost sure meant uncertainty.
“I’mallowedto be here,” he snapped. “I’m the Duke of Harbors. I’m legally permitted to commandeer any ship they make here.” Not that he ever would—the very thought of doing so made him queasy. “They can’t stop me from rummaging around in the woodpile if I feel like it. Go on. Need a light.”
“Highness,” Evemer said pointedly. He’d drawn himself sharply to attention at Kadou’s tone, which made Kadou feel justwretched,thanks so much. “I cannot in good conscience leave Your Highness alone in a place like this.”
Doubly wretched, then. He ought to keep better control of his tongue—being drunk was no excuse for reflexively sniping at Evemer, and it wasn’t at all right of him to ask Evemer to disregard his primary duty for—for what? Kadou’s convenience? His laziness, because he didn’t want to walk all the way back up to the guild for a lantern? Doubly and triply wretched.
“Right. Certainly,” he said. “We’ll go together.”
Kadou indulged, in the most private recesses of his soul, in a tiny moment of annoyance. That was all he could permit himself, like a single bite-sized honeycake devoured privately behind a closed door when he was supposed to be saving his appetite for dinner. Annoying of Evemer to be so inflexible, and moreover to berightabout it—that was the worst part.
He pushed the thought away firmly, locked it in an iron chest, threw it into the sea.
At the edge of the lamplight, he stopped, crossed his arms, and nodded for Evemer to go ahead. “Evening,” Evemer said flatly to the guard. “We’re going to borrow a lantern.”
She eyed him, her eyes lingering on his cobalt uniform. In polite but suspicious tones, she said, “You’re . . . from the palace, then?”
“Yes,” said Evemer, already helping himself to one of the lanterns hanging on either side of the door. The guard’s eyes flicked to Kadou. “We’ll bring this back in a minute.”
“Right,” she said slowly. “Of course.” She drifted after them for several dozen yards as they walked off, far enough back that Kadou wasn’t worried about her overhearing them, but nevertheless a watchful presence. She stopped at the edge of the shipyard, where she’d be able to see the door of the guild and keep an eye on what they were up to.
Kadou ignored her and fumbled with the ties on the corners of the oilcloth tarp covering a pile of rough-hewn masts until he could, with a woozy effort, fling the heavy, unwieldy lengths of fabric back from one end. Evemer stood nearby with the lantern and did not offer to help. “Right,” said Kadou, slightly winded. “The dents were this big, yes?” He mimicked the circle that Evemer had held up for him before.
“Yes, sir.”
Kadou flicked back the skirts of his kaftan and crouched down. The mast was one of the trickiest parts of the ship to source, since it had to be in one long piece. They were usually found specially and earmarked for the exact vessel they’d be fitted to. “Do you,” he said, examining the logs, “know how many shipyards we have?”
“Twelve, sir,” Evemer answered immediately.
“That’s how many arein Arast. How many do wehave?”
Silence for a beat. The flame in the lamp flickered. “I couldn’t say.”
“Sixty.” He stood up. All of these were too big—the wrong diameter, for one thing. They would have been ridiculously long to use as battering rams anyway, unless the thieves had come in a whole squadron. That guard who had apprehended them and fought them off said there had been only a handful. “Where do you think they keep the scrap heap?”
Evemer pointed immediately to the other end of the shipyard. Of course. Most of the fringe-guards on the investigation would have taken turns patrolling the area and familiarizing themselves with the terrain. Evemer might know the shipyard better than he did. Kadou had only been here one or two dozen times, and then he’d only passed through on Duke of Harbors business. He was usually escorted by one of the guildmasters when they were showing him some new advancement in the building technology for which the Kasaba headquarters of the Shipbuilder’s Guild was most famous.
Halfway down the yard, Evemer said, “Where are they?”