Viper's Kiss - Lisa Smedman [3]
When the ship was secure, one of the ship's officers-a muscular fellow whose braided beard hid most of the slave brand on his cheek-shouted directions. The other sailors unfastened the hatches and swung a crane into place, preparing to unload the barrels that filled the hold. Another officer-this one a yuan-ti with patches of yellow scales on his cheeks and forehead, slithered over to the rail and coiled himself there. He watched the crew with unblinking eyes, one hand gripping a wand whose tip was set with a hollow snake fang. The slaves glanced nervously at him over their shoulders as they worked. The yuan-ti officer did not speak, but his message was clear. Any human seeking his freedom ashore would meet a swift end.
Arvin ignored the yuan-ti officer, taking in the people on the pier instead. The dock workers all appeared to be free men-many were bearded, an affectation that was forbidden to all but the most trusted slaves. Four teenage boys stood on the pier next to them, jostling each other and waving up at the ship, trying to catch the eyes of its passengers. Their voices overlapped as they shouted up to those on deck.
"Come to the Bluefish Inn! Good food, good ale." "Clean rooms, just five silver pieces a night at the Travelers' Rest!"
"Hey, Mister! Let me show you the way to the Tangled Net Tavern. It's close by."
"Cheap rooms! Cheap rooms at the Silver Sail."
A handful of women were also present. One walked behind a boy who trundled a wheelbarrow laden with a steaming pot of dark red liquid, a ladle in her hand. "Hot mulled wine!" she called. "Sweet and hot, six coppers a cup." The half dozen other women were all doxies in low-cut dresses that were too thin for the winter air, strolling back and forth across the pier in an effort to keep warm.
Arvin's eyes were immediately drawn to one of the doxies, a woman with high cheekbones and dark hair that fell in a long braid down her back. She was pretty, but what had caught his eye was the gesture she just used. She'd raised a hand to her face, pretending to rub her eyes with fingers that were spread in a V. As Arvin watched, she lowered her hand, rubbing her fingers against her thumb, then pointed at the ship on which Arvin stood, directing someone's attention toward its passengers.
Arvin nodded. So Mimph had a rogues' guild as well, did it? He supposed that was only to be expected. He glanced around the pier and easily spotted the weedy- looking boy lounging a short distance down the pier. The boy-who looked about fourteen, the age Arvin had been when he found himself on the streets and was forced to steal to survive-acknowledged the doxy with a quick nod of his right fist, then began making his way toward the ship.
Arvin was glad it wasn't the doxy who would be attempting the grab. That was how things had started, the last time around. He looked around, trying to spot the other rogues he suspected would be somewhere nearby. There would probably be three or four in total, all working together in a carefully choreographed routine that would see whatever was stolen passed from one hand to the next. But the others-assuming there were more than just the woman and boy-didn't tip their hands.
Arvin slipped his pack off his shoulders, checked to make sure its flaps were securely fastened, then put it back on. He made a show of nervously patting a trouser pocket, drawing the boy's eyes to it. The only thing in that pocket was the remainder of Arvin's breakfast-some nuts and a dried cheese, wrapped in waxed cloth. His coin pouch with its supply of the local currency-small silver and gold coins called "fists" and "plumes," respectively, after the symbols stamped onto them-was tucked safely inside his boot.
As the ship was made fast, Arvin's eye ranged over the waterfront. The businesses lining it were typical of any port city: warehouses, boat builders, sail and rope makers, taverns, and fish-salting houses. There were also a number of stables,