The Stoneholding

business brings you here at this hour of the night. Quick now or we'll play it safe and pin you in place with a bolt to the chest." On the alert, the archer had begun descending the stone stairs, his crossbow raised to cover the unexpected intruders.

"Ship your oars, Cammas," Frysan whispered to the man facing him. "Dock the boat on this riverward side of the royal barge, if you can -- My name's Dorassy, Elzemon Dorassy of the Drapers' Guild." Frysan hailed the crossbowman over the water, hoping he had managed to purge his speech of its tell-tale highland burr. He had even chosen a false identity riddled with perilous r's that he had polished well by practice. "I'm here by warrant of the Mindal with an urgent message for the Captain of the Guard. It's on a matter of the highest importance. I must see him -- immediately." He struggled to rise to his feet in the bobbing wherry. "This is Cammas, a most obliging waterman," he said, throwing off his cloak so they could fetch a look at him in his finery: a doublet with embroidered sleeves, a long-skirted jerkin, topped by a linen ruff and a low-brimmed velvet cap, inset with the jewelled emblem of the Drapers' Guild.

"Come then, Master Guildsman, and we'll have a look, but mind you make no sudden movements, nor you nor the water rat! No, no -- Not there, this way. Dock the boat here on the port side of the royal barge, where I can make certain of you."

With a grimace, his back to shore, Cammas edged the wherry up to the quay, allowing Frysan to ...