Dante didn't recognize a single soul on its deck.Blays gestured to the sentries at the base of the pier. "Shall we ask them what the hell is going on?""Did you forget the fugitives thing? We'll hire some street rat. Now let's get out of here before they come over for a closer look."Dante continued past the pier, ignoring the lingering gazes of the soldiers. The night smelled like fish chowder from the vendors doing a brisk business a hundred yards down the shore. Dante headed toward them, eyeballing the numerous urchins hanging about the crewmen drinking and gambling over cards and dice. He wanted one of the quiet ones. Someone who would parrot the questions he was told to ask without betraying them to the guards or angling for more money.As they neared the boisterous plaza, a shadowy figure emerged from the corner of a warehouse. "Stop right there."By instinct, Dante grasped at the nether, but he recognized the voice. "Mr. Naran?"The man shushed them and beckoned them to him. "This way."Naran turned stiffly and walked away from the piers.
