It was so late, it was probably morning by the time Varsis and Taros reached the docks. Leaving the Occluded City and then getting out of the metropolis that had sprung up around it, without attracting much attention, took time.

Rain pattered on the abandoned docks, as Varsis and his bodyguard sprinted to the ship that would take them home. Everyone else who could leave already had, and Varsis’ ship was the last one still anchored.

Huge sections of the wooden docks were blackened, and some parts still smoked. If the skies had not opened, Varsis doubted there would have been much in the way of docks to return to.

As Varsis reached his ship, a rope ladder was tossed off the side, and Varsis climbed. As he came over the side, a strange sight greeted his eyes. His loyal crew was there, ready and waiting, but so were dozens upon dozens of what looked to be refugees. Varsis’ personal craft was quite spacious, but the deck was completely covered with them.

As Taros came over the side as well, Varsis turned to his captain, who stood right there, ready and waiting for Varsis’ orders, as if nothing was amiss.

“What in the world is going on, Salko?” Varsis asked, as the rain poured down onto his face. “Who are all these people?”

“Nobles of House Tachen, sir,” said Salko, “and their wives, and their children, and their servants. When they got to the docks, ours was the only ship they could seek shelter on. After they got past the mobs, I couldn’t refuse them.”

“You are far too kind,” said Varsis. “And now I can’t get rid of them.” There seemed to be several times more refugees than crew, and if Varsis ordered his men to throw them all off the ship, chaos would ensue, which was the last thing Varsis wanted.

Captain Salko smiled, and Varsis knew that the captain knew exactly what he was thinking.

“You’re too kind for your own good,” growled Varsis. He could give a thousand reasons why the refugees should never have been allowed on board, but he knew Salko knew those reasons just as well.

Still smiling, Salko shouted at his men, “Get the Legacy sailing! Head north on the river! Do it now!” At Varsis, he said, “Let’s get you out of the rain.”

Varsis, Salko, and Taros made their way down into the ship. Even on the under-levels, it was hard to keep from tripping over the multitudes of people that lined the halls. Still, Varsis restrained himself from saying anything. He could talk once they got to the captain’s quarters.

Salko’s room was small and unlavish, with little more than a chair, a bed, and a table. It was the first place on the ship Varsis had seen yet that was bare of people.

Varsis took the chair. He drummed his fingers on the armrests, noting, as he always did, that the digits of his steel left hand felt nothing.

“Any damage the refugees cause is on your head,” said Varsis. “And they better be able to pay for themselves. I told you, Salko, to keep your ship as inconspicuous as possible. That seems to be the last thing you did here.”

“Your orders were quite hard to follow, in any event, sir,” said Salko.

“What does that mean?” asked Varsis. The Lord-General, however, remembered the suspicious lack of gangplank when he had entered the ship, and realized he might have an idea at what Salko was talking about.

“Rioters tried to drive us away, even after I took down the Imperial flag,” said Salko. “It proved impossible to be both ready to leave at the slightest notice, and invisible, as you might have liked. Three of my crew died repelling commoners, and it was all I could do to keep the others from leaving the city without you.”

Varsis was reminded of the reason he hired Salko in the first place: his loyalty. “Then you did well,” he said, getting up. “As long as all the extras on this ship are gone by the time we reach Makini lands, I’ll forget this ever happened.”

“Thank you sir,” said Salko.

As Varsis rose from the chair, he felt the Legacy start to move away from the docks. All was good.

“There is one other thing I must inform you of,” said Salko. “During one of our battles with the rioters, Graven’s body was thrown up onto the deck. The rioters must have known this was a Makini ship. We…we thought you were dead, sir. If I might ask, how did he get separated from you?”

Varsis calmed himself. Graven being dead did not necessarily imply that he failed his task; in fact, it could imply quite the opposite. However, Graven’s body thrown up over the railing did not seem to be a good omen.

“You will find out soon enough,” said Varsis. “When I know more.” If I ever know more. Graven had just been swallowed up by the chaos in the streets. It was quite possible that Varsis would never know what had truly happened. “How was he killed?”

“It was strange,” said Salko. “According to Roin, one of my crew, he had been impaled by a warrior’s sword. All I saw was the blood, but…Roin tends not to be wrong with things like that.”

“Is his body still onboard?”

“Yes.”

Varsis didn’t know what to think. “Let me see him.”