The office of the harbor master, which doubled as his residence, was a long, low building with overhanging eaves. It sat upon the end of the main pier.
The wharves were deserted as Jace made his way to it. At least, they were bereft of anyone conscious. Jace saw at least two sailors laid out on sacks, some combination of stone drunk and fast asleep.
Montaldo’s ship would not be among those tied up at the docks, Jace reasoned. Not if he suspected the governor might make an attempt to seize the feathered princess by force. The ships anchored farther out in the harbor were large, mostly featureless hulks. Here and there, lanterns were visible, but no signs of life.
Feeling not at all reassured by the deathly stillness which pervaded the area, Jace went up to the door of the harbor master’s darkened office and rapped with his knuckles. There was no response from within.
He put one small ear up to the oak door. All was silent.
He went around to the window, with its thick dirty panes of glass set in a lattice frame. He peered in, knowing that he wouldn’t have seen much even if it had been day. He was simply looking for a glimmer of light or glimpse of movement, any sign of life from within. He tapped on the window a few times, to cover in case anybody was watching and to make double sure the harbor master wasn’t just asleep.
Jace was fairly sure the harbor master hadn’t been among the crowd at Prit’s, but as an appointed official he might well have been invited up to the mansion for the big celebration. Jace had little idea how late into the night such an event would last, but he supposed it was likely enough to end with the participants passing out drunk as any other kind of party.
It seemed the coast was clear.
But what exactly did he do now? Break the window? Force the door? Pick the lock? The window he could manage… the other two were almost definitely beyond him.
Even if he could get in, what would he do next? He knew there was a registry of all the ships in the harbor, a big leather-bound book on the harbor master’s desk. He’d seen it in passing when delivering messages. It surely contained information which would help him locate and identify Montaldo’s ship… if he could read it.
Jace had a sort of vague idea that he’d recognize the name “Montaldo” if he saw it written out, but he had a slightly less vague idea that this was wishful thinking. What would be the point of smashing a window and calling attention down on himself in order to get to a book he couldn’t even read?
For the first time, Jace began to feel a tiny bit of doubt that destiny was fully on his side.
“She isn’t in there, you know,” a voice said in his ear.
Jace whirled and found himself staring face-to-face with an upside down, beak-masked face… the face of the man called Tarnach.
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