Maren Goldweaver's Arc

Chapter 14 of 42

They moved before dawn and reached the harbor by afternoon. Maren kept Gisela on her right and Miller on her left, the cub asleep in her coat. The dock stretched long over the water, thick posts wrapped in wet rope, a wide berth waiting empty at the far end. Gulls picked at fish guts on the boards. Maren pulled her sister back into the shadow of a warehouse and studied the pier for gray coats. Six days had shrunk to one. "We wait for dusk," Maren said. "Ship comes in, we board with the loaders." Miller pointed his chin at an alley between two stacks of crates. They slid into it. The alley smelled of tar and salt fish. Gisela crouched against the wall and rubbed her wrists. Maren watched the mouth of the alley over the sight of Miller's rifle. Boots slapped the boards. Someone running. Miller rose and swung the rifle butt back to strike. A young man skidded in, bandana loose, one gold hoop swinging at his ear. "Wait!" Gisela lunged and caught Miller's arm. "It's Kato. He's with me." Kato put both hands up, breathing hard. Gisela stepped into him and he folded her against his chest like he'd been holding the space open for weeks. Maren did not lower her hand from the knife at her hip. "With you how." "He ran messages for our crew," Gisela said. "He's the one who told me the ledger route." "Then he's the one who knew where you'd be the night you were taken." Kato's face changed. "I didn't sell her. I've been watching this dock for six weeks waiting for one of us to come back." "Prove it," Miller said. "Shifts haven't changed," Kato said, fast. "Same four men on the berth, same two on the gangway. The ship rotates in at sunset tonight. Three hours on shore, then out. That's your window." Gisela squeezed Maren's arm. "He's right about the shifts. I studied them too." Maren looked past Kato's shoulder at the pier. A man in a gray coat had stopped at the end of it. Short, thick through the neck. He turned a slow circle, scanning faces. Maren knew that circle. She had watched him do it in a Records Hall corridor six months ago, right before he pinned her against a shelf and asked her name. The informant. Still working. Still here. She pulled Kato deeper into the alley. "Gray coat at the pier head. Squat. Scar under his jaw." Kato looked, then flattened against the wall. "That's the one who took her name to the Registry." "He hasn't seen us," Maren said. "Yet." She turned to Miller. "He spots her, we're done. He spots me, he calls the whole dock." "So he doesn't spot either of you." Miller checked the rifle. "I'll take him off the boards before sunset. Quiet." Maren nodded. One informant. One dock. One tide.