“YOU ARE HARAL?” Quintus took in the insignificant sight of the puny druid standing on the black ship’s deck before eyeing Strabo. “I thought such a turncoat would be taller.”

His prefect uttered a sour sound. “None of his kind have ever impressed me, Tribune.”

“I think you shall appreciate me more after my transformation is complete,” the druid said, puffing himself up a bit as if trying to look taller. “’Tis a fascinating ritual, not unlike what you and your men–”

A wail interrupted him. It came from the blanket-wrapped bundle held by one of the guards, drawing all eyes. A small fist emerged from the swaddling and struck the undead soldier in the face. He bared his fangs and hissed an order to be quiet to the boy, who only shrieked louder.

“Take him below and secure him,” Strabo said, and stepped in Daimh’s path when the druid tried to follow. “You do not touch the child until Lachlan McDonnel has been captured.”

“He’ll give himself into your hands quite freely, I assure you,” the druid said. His close-set eyes darted around the prefect. “We’ve only to hold a blade to the boy’s throat, if Lusk is present and our timing is–”

“Enough of your prattling,” Quintus said, already tired of the little man. “Captain, how long will it take to sail to Everbay?”

The mortal bowed low before he answered. “Most of the night and day, Tribune.”

“Then have the crew check our compartments to assure they are light-tight.” Quintus went to the railing, and saw a lone, plump figure standing on the cliffs above the lair. She appeared to be waving a small cloth.

“Is that your wife or mate, Tribune?” the druid asked, earning a snort of contempt from Strabo. “She seems very distraught to see you go. The wives of mortal sailors do the same when their husbands go to sea. Since druids dinnae do such work, our females dinnae indulge in hysterics.” He stepped closer, and in a lower voice said, “Might we have a word alone? I’ve gathered some facts from your crew you may find useful.”

Though Quintus eyed him, he said, “This way.”

He led Daimh into the Captain’s cabin, and called in a guard to station just behind the little man. The odd, medicinal scent coming from the druid’s robes made him go to the portal and force it open. Through it he saw Bryn again, which should have made him laugh, but the sight of her fluttering her kerchief only made him think of Fenella. His lost love had always accompanied him on every mission. Indeed, she had saved his life once at great risk to her own.

He felt almost sorry for Bryn and her devotion to him. She would only ever be a whore.

“Tribune, I sense a great sadness in you,” Daimh said, his voice very different from the chittering he had spewed on the deck. “I dinnae wish to add to it, but I’ve heard troubling talk.”

A curious rage filled Quintus. “Tell me or get out.”

“Mortals came on dories to bring weapons on board today while you and your men slept,” Daimh said. “They were instructed to place these weapons in various places around the ship.”

“The Ninth Legion is ever prepared to engage in battle,” Quintus told him. “This we do not do with our bare hands. What of it?”

“’Tis only that the crew hid the weapons,” the druid said, his tone simpering now. “I cannae fathom why they would be ordered to do so.”

Quintus drew his dagger, and strode over to the guard. Before the man could react, he thrust the blade into his chest, reducing him to a pile of ash. He then held the tip directly under Daimh’s nose. “Who ordered it?”

The druid did not twitch an eyelash. “I heard the name Strabo invoked, my lord.”

Quintus’s fist trembled. As much as he would have liked to cut off Daimh’s nose, he had no reason to punish him. He also had no intention of personally searching the ship, or in any way allowing Strabo to learn that his plot had been uncovered.

“Who can attest to the truth of your claim?”

“The captain’s loyalties belong to your prefect,” the druid admitted. “But the other officers might still be yours.”

Quintus had no doubt that the navigator would verify every word the friendly little druid had spoken. He had enthralled the mortal last winter after the undead had captured his ship, and as the tribune’s creation he could not lie to him.

“What reason have you to curry favor with me?”

“On Everbay you shall find a druidess, my brother’s daughter as it happens.” He described the female, and then added, “I wish you to capture her. She is protected by a rogue druid, but he is mortal, and should prove no trouble for your men.”

“I suppose you then wish me to hand her over to you with the boy,” Quintus said.

Daimh’s thin mouth curved. “Och, no, my lord. I wish you to kill her, slowly, and by inflicting as much suffering as you may. While I watch.”