Page 79 of Dark Water Daughter

I knew. It was what Slader would have insisted upon, if he were here. It was what I ought to have done long ago, but had not had the stomach for.

I stamped my reluctance and longing out and shoved cold determination in its place. Mary had robbed me, and I could not fail Slader again.

We had to abduct the Stormsinger.

“She will not be alone,” I pointed out, hoping against hope that the fact would sway Fisher.

My companion was unfazed. “Then we’ll just have to wait for the right moment.”

One more try: “We ought to go for help.”

She thought for a minute, then shook her head. “No. We cannot lose this chance. At the least, we can follow them back to Demery’s ship.”

That was it, then. We situated ourselves in the lee of an alleyway and began a long, frigid wait in the snow. Mary sang three songs, each one more boisterous than the next, and the peace I felt at her voice was replaced by biting cold and anxious pacing.

After the third song, Mary’s voice ceased to waft when the door opened. Sometime after that, patrons began to trickle out, heading home or to other establishments, or, by the looks of them, to indulge in various felonies.

When the bells rang the single toll of the first hour of the morning, I sensed Mary approaching the door. I signaled to Fisher, who stretched her neck and slipped her left hand around the hilt of her cutlass. The right, the injured one, she held carefully out of harm’s way.

I expected a flood of pirates from the tavern door, but a tired-looking Mary exited The Drowned Prince in the company of just one man. He stood an inch or two taller than her, with a build that was slim but fit, and he tucked a fold of papers into his jacket as he went.

“Isn’t that Kaspin’s rat?” Fisher murmured.

I nodded. Charles Grant adjusted his coat and walked backwards for a few steps, casting a laughing farewell to other tavern-goers. Mary stopped, waiting for him and glancing up at the snow. My gaze snagged on her face and my head produced a series of unhelpful observations, centering around her lowbodice—whichI glimpsed as she adjustedmycloak—andthe curve of her lips.

Fisher read my expression. She shot me a hard look, followed by an elbow. “Rosser. Where are the rest of them?”

I took hold of myself and pulled my pistol from beneath my coat. Fetching a twist of powder and shot from my pocket, I shook my head. “Another tavern? They will not be far.”

“Then we move now.” Fisher glanced at my progress. I slid the shot home, tamped it and fit the ramrod back into place beneath the barrel with thoughtless efficiency. “Here they come.”

Sure enough, Mary and Grant were almost upon us, he rambling and she half listening, her eyes sweeping the street ahead.

“We come back tomorrow,” Grant was saying as they neared. “And the day after. Every day. Pity Demery is not here to witness our buddingsuccess…However,that gives us even more time to secure investors.”

“Every night! I’m not doing this again,” Mary protested, tired and short. They were almost to the mouth of the alley now, but Grant was slow, and Mary had to wait for him to catch up again. “Any investor we pull in at the Frolick is worth twice what that lot can offer. Watching you gamble and get drunk was not what I volunteered for.”

“I’m hardlydrunk,” Grant chided, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “I’mmerry, as were you, singing such bawdy songs. Even I blushed. Besides, that lot had deeper pockets than I expected.”

Mary shrugged him off, returning to her earlier assertion. “I’m not doing this every night. You can come back alone.”

“Oh, you’ll come,” he corrected. “As you’ll come to the Frolick. Mallan is arranging for Phira’s seamstress to make your gown. Isn’t that nice? Why aren’t you smiling? Surely you like pretty things. Mary.”

Hidden by the shadows, I exchanged a glance with Fisher. Her hand hovered on her cutlass and I held my pistol at the ready, but neither of us moved. We had just overheard a great deal of information, and little of it made sense. Investments, an absent Demery, someone called Phira and a Frolick?

Mary glanced over her shoulder at the tavern. More patrons had flowed into the street, though they headed in the opposite direction. “I’ll attract too much attention. I’m not putting myself at risk so you can gamble and call it work.”

“Do you want to rescue your mother from Lirr?” Grant’s voice became harder. “This is part of the agreement.”

My breath shallowed. Lirr had Mary’s mother, and Demery had offered her a deal? Was that why Mary had gone to Demery instead ofHart?

My determination ebbed, my eyes full of Mary’s face as she frowned at Grant. “You don’t get to decide that. I’mnot—”

Fisher flinched forward, about to step out of the alleyway.

“You two!” A woman’s accented voice reverberated down the street, making both Mary and Grant look back. A tall figure sauntered into view, followed by a knot of what my curse told me were Demery’s pirates.

Fisher and I retreated deeper into the shadows.

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