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her voice higher than normal. Had Uval complained to the local Damiar enforcement after all? “Blessings of the Shasir upon you.” She looked over each shoulder. If Corrus were here then his Head Constable, Dagga, would be too. “Your notice said I had thirty days, I—”
    “You have your thirty days, Amadahy. Have no fears there.”
    His tone was obviously meant to be reassuring but Ama felt no such thing, as Dagga finally appeared from out of the hatch that led below deck. Moonlight reflected off his bald head, which sat on his neck like a block of stone and was thatched with thin scars. He didn’t speak, didn’t even acknowledge Ama’s presence as he clomped his way to her side, where his body eclipsed hers.
    “Should I have fears somewhere else?” Ama’s eyes flicked down to the large blade sheathed on Dagga’s hip.
    “Witty, I like that,” Corrus said, and stepped forward again. Now the moonlight caught his face, casting his soft features in harsh shadow. To Ama, Judicia Corrus had always seemed like a shard of glass–smooth and clean, but so sharp it could cut you almost by looking at it. Even now, the shine of his black and silver hair threatened to draw blood. Most on the docks feared Dagga, but it was Corrus who had always sent ice through Ama’s veins.
    “I came to talk to you about the notice, actually. As a friend,” he continued.
    “A friend?” Ama ducked her chin to keep her hair forward, over her dathe, and inched sideways, away from Dagga.
    “Is that so strange?” Corrus raised his palms; his eyebrows also rose. “Ama, I have no grudge against you, I don’t draw up notices and fines because I enjoy making your life unpleasant. As a representative of the Shasir, among the people, I have a duty to enforce the laws and ensure order. I am the hand of the gods, a responsibility I take seriously. And you have to admit,” he smiled, his white teeth gleamed, “you can be boisterous, disruptive, even a little wild, from time to time.”
    He waited for her reply.
    “I guess so,” Ama said after a pause. Her bare thigh was pressed against the transom. If Corrus or his pet monster made a move, she could always dive overboard.
    Corrus tossed his head back and laughed, “Look at you! So nervous. Come now, I’ve heard tales of your Port House antics. Timidity doesn’t suit you.”
    “What do you want?”
    The laugh stopped. “The better question is: what do you want?”
    “To keep my license. To keep sailing and earning coin, as I was promised I could.”
    “And I want that for you as well.” Corrus smiled at her tilted head. “I want everyone to do their jobs, make an honest living, stay in line with the laws. I want peace, Ama. But,” he sighed dramatically, “there are those who want to keep all of us from getting what we want. Traitors in our midst. Kenda who defy the will of the gods and jeopardize the well being of their own kind. Remnants from a less civilized past who would undo the unity our beloved Shasir’kia brought to the land. And I would search them out, expose them and see that they were properly corrected, if I could. But, as you know, your kind can be…secretive.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh, I think you do. Don’t you, Constable Dagga?” Corrus asked.
    “Buncha filthy, sneaky water rats,” Dagga said.
    “I’m not a traitor or a heretic; my brother is a Shasir’dua. I attend the—”
    “I know all about your brother. He’s a fine example for all of us. No,” Corrus placed his hand on the wheel, “I’m not accusing you, I’m asking for your help. You’re a devout believer, obviously, but among those you associate with, well, I’m sure you hear things, see things. All I’m asking is for you to keep listening, keep watching, and then come to me, as a friend, and share what you know.”
    He tightened his grip on the wheel and inhaled deeply.
    “Gods above it must be invigorating, being out on the water all day. The