Camilla started at the sound of her name, but didn’t turn around. She kept her eye on the silver glint moving slowly underwater toward the center of the bay. It might have been a large tarpon, the moonlight shining off of its silver scales…but it wasn’t. She watched until it finally sunk out of sight where the water was deep, where no moonlight could penetrate, and where no one would ever find it. “You’re early,” she whispered. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief and turned around. Tipos stood there, looking beyond her as if trying to see whatever had drawn her attention. At his feet lay a bulging sack, and at his waist hung a newly fashioned war club. Paska hurried up behind him, a stolen cutlass on one hip, little Koybur on the other. “Where be de guards?” the dark woman asked, hitching the sleepy baby up higher. “Just get in the boat,” she ordered them. “But it still be chained to de dock,”
