Morana watched from the crowd as sailors poured off the four strange ships. Mixed in somewhere with the common riffraff were Connor’s allies, three sorcerers from the Old Empire. Her master had been a little vague about whether the empire sorcerers reached out to him or vise versa, but the important thing was they had arrived and now Morana had to make contact.

A quick glance revealed three guards in uniform watching the ships. If there were three in uniform there were probably three or more times that many mixed in with the regular citizens. Connor said his people expected her to make contact; she just had to figure out how to draw their attention without alerting every guard in the area.

Two women and a man with no visible soul force walked down the ramps of the ships. That had to be them.

They picked their way down Shore Street towards the city, bodies tense and gazes darting about. Morana followed along behind, not too close, just another person out for a walk. She glanced casually around, trying to spot anyone following the three sorcerers. No one stood out, but any of the people walking along the side of the road could be a guard out of uniform.

She clenched her teeth and gave it another minute. Still nothing stood out. If she wanted to accomplish anything she’d have to take a chance.

Morana picked up her pace and walked right past the three sorcerers. The man looked at her and when he did she flashed a horned skull symbol in the air in front of her chest where no one else could see it. His eyes widened and she nodded. Morana continued on toward the Drowned Rat, trusting the others would follow.

The run-down tavern made a perfect place to talk. The guards didn’t go there; if they did they’d end up floating facedown in the bay. It was too early in the day for much of a crowd and that worked against them. Not that it worried Morana one way or the other. She had an understanding with the bartender. He didn’t talk about Morana’s business and she didn’t kill him.

The Rat slumped on the corner of Shore and Tide. Two stories tall and fifty feet wide, the tavern doubled as a two-copper whorehouse. Since it was before noon, the working girls were probably still asleep. Morana pushed through the swinging doors, nodded to the bartender, and slipped into her usual booth at the back of the common room. The table wobbled, forcing her to slide the little wedge of wood back under the busted leg. A pair of drunks snoring under the biggest table in the center of the room were the only other guests.

A minute later the three sorcerers entered, spotted Morana, and made their way across the room, careful to avoid stepping in any of the nastier pools of liquid on the bare plank floor. The three of them sat on the bench across from Morana. No serving maid bothered them. The Rat was strictly self-serve.

One of the three conjured a sound barrier. When it surrounded them the man said, “You’re our contact?”

“Connor sends his regards. Everything is on schedule?”

“Yes, we will collect the dragon’s soul force as agreed.”

“The captain has no idea what you truly intend?”

“He doesn’t care. As long as the Leviathan dies and he can hunt his precious whales the captain is uninterested in any other details. It would be useful if we had a few extra men loyal to us in case things should go awry.”

The two female sorcerers had said nothing up to this point, seeming content to stare at Morana. She shuddered. The women had blank, doll-like expressions. They almost didn’t look human. Morana had never seen anything like it.

Not her concern. At least now she had a use for the few Unkindness members that had survived her reminder of their loyalties.

“I have six men that should suit your needs perfectly. When should I send them over?”

“The woman that spoke for your kingdom asked the captain not to recruit from the populace. She said nothing about volunteers who offered to go on their own. Send them to the docks tomorrow morning. We’ll handle the rest.”