Chaos erupted, and the crowd split into two. The main body rushed the doors, quickly overwhelming their single guardian before throwing them wide and spilling out into the night. A smaller contingent, emboldened by the blond speaker leading the charge, made for the source of the clatter, hoping to catch the perpetrator in the act. Lulu. In all the sudden activity, one of the braziers lay on its side, embers scattered across the warehouse floor.

  Indecision held the wizard’s feet firmly in place, but his head was on a swivel. Segwyn was nowhere to be seen, and a mob headed for what he felt certain was Lunish’s last position. A sudden flash on the stage announced the woman casting Dimension Door and stepping through, leaving only the ruddy-faced bald man writhing in the fetal position. A flicker in the rafters caught the edge of his vision when Narz’l, the Red Queen’s quasit familiar, scurried along the wall’s header toward the exit. That little bastard!

  Smoke began to swell around the upturned brazier, the coals igniting nearby clutter. With one last look at the mob, shouting and tossing aside chairs and a drafting table from the building’s corner, a pained grimace flashed on his face, and Glynfir headed for the doors.

  “Hold them here,” he heard the woman shout as he was swept onto the pier by the anxious crowd. “No one leaves the quay until I clear them!”

  The early departures were already pooled around the narrow gap between the two wagons that served as the entry queue and now guarded the woman’s position. Four cinders, shoulder to shoulder, their hands glowing with magical threat, held them at bay for the moment. Above and behind the leftmost demon spawn, Narz’l perched on the top lip of the wagon’s seatback, gazing intently at the front row of departing reapers. Three more cinders served as crowd control, herding the stragglers away from the docks toward the quay’s choke point.

  When her head shot up, the wizard followed her gaze to the warehouse doors, now belching smoke into the evening air. With an annoyed look, she turned away from the crowd, and another Dimension Door materialized. She stepped through, and instantly, its counterpart sprang to life back inside the warehouse, spitting her out in front of the growing fire. Decisively thrusting her hand into the air, a blue matrix began to pulse and crackle around it. Pulling her arm forward, pointing at the fire, a column of water raced from her fingertips, quenching the juvenile blaze in a hiss of steam.

  “Seriously, Horace? Am I the only one capable of rational thought? You couldn’t even put out the fire?” She barked at the mob, outside his line of sight, but presumably still rooting around in the corner. “You’re such an idiot!” she continued to rant. “The curse is triggered by speaking directly to the unconverted. It couldn’t have been someone back there. You’re chasing the Gonddamn cat!” She turned on her heel and stalked back toward the quay, firing one last volley over her shoulder. “Now get out here and help me! Honestly, I’m jealous of all the people who don’t know you!”

  Glynfir joined the rear of the crush as the crowd compressed toward the flatbed barrier, drifting as close to the berthed ships as the demonic crowd control permitted. Apart from the occasional creak of rubbing planks, Dock One was still. His eyes frantically searched the crowd for any sign of his friends, finding no trace of his currently buck-toothed partner, or Lunish. A flash of white hair through the crowd betrayed Iskvold’s position—right near the front. What’s she doing?

  The woman swam through the increasingly irate audience, fighting her way back to the heavily guarded exit, shouting above the mounting objections. “We need to find the unconverted.”

  She slipped back behind her cinder blockade. “I’m going to ask each of you a single yes or no question—Are you bound to the Red Queen?” She steepled her fingertips and began alternating the tapping of her second and third digits. “Anyone attempting evasion will be assumed guilty. So don’t get cute with your answers.” She muttered a few words before a blue dome of energy pulsed around her. She pointed to Narz’l, volume rising again for those in the back. “And just in case you’ve forgotten, She’ll be watching!” Zone of Truth. Difficult to beat.

  The crowd began to trickle through the checkpoint, faster than he would have liked. Each reaper took their turn with the speaker turned inquisitor and exited onto the quay. Gotta move soon, where are they?

  Another glance at Dock One provided no comfort as he shuffled closer to a direct showdown he couldn’t predict. Preoccupied by his search for familiar faces in the crowd, the firm grip on his right arm caught him by surprise. Turning with a start, his gaze locked onto the smoldering red pupils of a sneering cinder.

  Bird threw back the tarp concealing his position on the aft deck and gave a low whistle. “Wakey, wakey! I just heard from Mustache. We need to activate the backup plan.” When he arrived, the tabby made himself scarce as quickly as possible, not bothering to track down any of the others. As a result, he now stood in the ship’s aft cabin waiting for any reaction to his summons. A moment later, Tsuta poked his head out from the first door on the left down the hall.

  Bird nodded in approval. “Captain’s quarters?”

  Tsuta frowned and shook his head. “First mate. Tiny and I flipped a coin. She won.”

  As if on cue, Whydah emerged from the door across the hall, stifling a yawn. “I fell asleep. Not sure if it’s the bed or the river, but either way, best nap I’ve had in a long time!”

  The tabby’s face wrinkled in disapproval. “I should have put more thought into my choice—huddling under a smelly old tarp on the deck. Where’s Iskvold?”

  Tsuta tipped his head toward the final door at the end of the hall. “Some kind of office, or lounge. There was a comfortable chair. She said she wanted to check out the books.” His shoulders twitched in a mild shrug. “Once a librarian, I suppose.”

  Bird walked to the end of the hall, his facial expression graduating to disgust. “I can’t believe everyone, but me, found a comfortable place to pass the time.” He looked back at them both accusingly before leaning into the door.

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  Tsuta followed, Whydah in his wake. “No one to blame but yourself, Whiskers. You’ve gotta think these things through a little better.” They both pulled up short, nearly running into the tabby as he stopped in the doorway. The room beyond was empty.

  A voice called out from the other end of the hall. “What’re we looking at?” Iskvold leaned against the doorframe, holding a half-eaten sandwich.

  Bird spun to face her, his face twisting into a scowl as one foot came down on the deck planks with the suddenness of a brewing tantrum. Thinking the better of it, he stalked past the drow, back out onto the deck. “We’re trying to run an operation here, and you three are on a pleasure cruise.”

  “What? I was hungry!” She held up the sandwich and raised her eyebrows at Tsuta. “Salt pork!” Tilting her head toward Bird’s wake, she took a bite. “What’s up with him?”

  Whydah chuckled as she followed the tabby onto the deck. “He’s feeling sorry for himself because he huddled under a dirty tarp for the last ninety minutes, while we made better choices.”

  They followed the tabby up the stairs and gathered around the longboat. Suspended over the stern by two currently vertical davits, the vessel would certainly suffice, once it was in the water.

  “Anyone know about boats?” Bird inquired as the four of them examined the davits. A silence that stretched several seconds provided the answer. The tabby raised his head, glancing from one blank look to the next.

  Tsuta cleared his throat. “I think you lower it from inside the boat, using the ropes that connect to those pulleys.”

  Whydah let out a snort as Bird rounded on the bald monk, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Yes, thank you, Stick. I gathered that much. How do we lower the Gonddamn arms so it’s over the water?”

  “We could just cut the ropes and push it off the back,” Iskvold suggested.

  Whydah shook her head. “Too much noise. We might as well ring the ship’s bell.”

  Tsuta squatted next to the davit’s base and tried the crank handle. “I think this is the mechanism. It’s connected to a gear, but it’s locked. There must be a release somewhere.”

  “Find it!” Bird’s whisper was urgent. “We’re running out of time; they could come racing down the dock with half the Dominion on their asses at any second!”

  Everyone began to scramble, frantically searching the davits and the stern deck for any sign of the locking mechanism. Their attention distracted, no one noticed the middle-aged male gnome crest the staircase behind them.

  “Oy! What’re yas doing here? This is private property!”

  Frozen in surprise for just a moment, Bird and Iskvold were on their feet in a flash. The ring of steel and the rushing air of Blunt Force Trauma in full spin buffeted Whydah from both sides.

  “Wait!” she hissed.

  Their weapons stilled, but neither altered their posture, both poised to attack. After a casual glance at the stranger, Tsuta resumed hunting for the davit release.

  Whydah rose, stepping defensively between her companions and the gnome she turned to face them. “We don’t need to hurt him; he hasn’t done anything wrong.” Her hand rose to the pendant around her neck, waving the crystal back and forth, waggling her eyebrows. “Besides, I have a better idea.”

  She turned back to the gnome, one hand on the crystal. “I suggest you’re not at all concerned with our presence on board, and you’re going to help us launch this longboat.” As she spoke, a green sparkling mist billowed from her lips, blooming around her target. The man’s posture relaxed, and he blinked twice before a smile spread across his face. “Ay Ay!” he gave a sharp nod, glancing at Tsuta, fidgeting with the davit’s base. “We’ve got to unlock the winch before we can get her in the water.” He thrust a stubby thumb over his shoulder. “It’s up on the bridge. Cap’n doesn’t want any of this lot abandoning ship without his say-so. I’ll get it.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he scrambled back down the stairs and disappeared into the darkness toward the bow of the ship.

  Before he returned, a familiar red-tailed mouse scurried along the gunwale and onto the deck. Using the gunwale as a barrier from the prying eyes of the pier, she resumed her normal form in a green flash and climbed the stairs to join the others. “Shouldn’t you have that in the water by now?”

  “Working on it!” Bird snapped back.

  The druid looked questioningly at Iskvold. “What’s up his arse?”

  Iskvold waved her hand dismissively in response. “He’s in a pissy mood because we’re having some trouble with the longboat, and he made a poor choice of hiding spots earlier.”

  “Cats are fickle creatures.” Tsuta piled on.

  “I didn’t make a poor choice,” Bird shot back. “I made the professional choice!” His head swiveled accusingly at the others. “While some of us were taking naps and making sandwiches!”

  Iskvold looked sheepishly at the ground before popping the last bite of salt pork into her mouth.

  “So, are we just giving up on the boat? Why are you all standing around?”

  “Whydah finally used her pendant and made us a friend. He’s unlocking these arm thingees so we can lower the boat.” The drow’s words were stilted between chews.

  On cue, a clear metallic click could be heard from beneath the deck, prompting Tsuta to return the now unlocked crank handle and begin winding.

  Whydah shot an up nod toward the warehouses. “What went wrong up there?”

  Lunish sighed. “I think one of the speakers must have made eye contact with one of ours while he was talking. Her curse locked him up tighter than a drum.” Her face broke into a grin. “But I was able to help with a distraction. I came out of form and scared the wits out of the warehouse mouser before dropping a broom on him.” She looked pointedly at Bird. “Then I went mouse again and snuck back out. Never even drew a weapon!”

  “Ah. Progress!” the tabby purred, his mood improving with every inch the boat swung beyond the edge of the ship’s stern.

  The druid’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Are you talking about me or the boat?”

  “You, of course,” Bird replied smoothly, not missing a beat, his eyes never leaving their getaway vehicle.

  “That get it?” the gnomish crewman called up from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Yes, thank you!” Whydah beamed at him. “We’re going to lower it into the water. Would you please hold the line for us at the end of the dock? We’re just waiting for a couple more.”

  He bowed deeply, one hand brushing back his unkempt, wiry grey hair. “Be my pleasure, mum.”

  Lunish turned to Iskvold. “Oh, I like this!”

  “Why are you not onshore with the rest of the crew, mister…?” Whydah asked their new friend.

  “Herk,” the old gnome replied, shaking his head. “Never go ashore, me. Cap’n lets me hunker down in the hold. Better for security, and nicer than where I spend most days—up in the nest.”

  Whydah followed his gaze to the three-foot-wide basket at the top of the mast. “Our good fortune.”

  “All aboard!” Tsuta declared, rising to his feet and stepping into the longboat. Retrieving the coiled mooring rope from the floor near the front, he checked its connection to the bow ring before handing it out to Bird.

  “Give it over here,” Herk said, hurrying up the stairs. “You get in and lower yourselves.” He nodded toward the pulleys suspending the boat in the air. “I’ll tie you off on the end of the dock.”

  In a flash, the boat was in the river and secured to the piling, with Herk standing patiently on the dock, when a hue and cry went up near the warehouse.

  Iskvold pulled on the mooring rope, holding the end planks to keep the boat parallel for easy access. “Sounds like it’s almost time to shove off.”

  Bird could only nod, his head bowed, claws digging into the gunwales on either side. The padding of urgent footfalls reverberated softly down the empty dock toward them. Ten feet out, the air shimmered, and Glynfir instantly became visible, hustling their way. But he wasn’t alone. A rough-looking cinder, face painted into an angry sneer, shimmered into view, hot on his heels.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

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