Let's wait and see, the Prince replied grimly.

As we neared the docks, people grew more numerous, until we realized a crowd had gathered to watch our departure. The Tusker had been loaded since yesterday, and awaited only our boarding and the morning turn of tide to depart. There was a strange mood amongst the Outislanders. It was as if they had turned out to watch a competition of champions, and we were not the favored ones. No one hurled rotten vegetables or insults, but the knowing silence was almost as hard a pelting. Closer to the ship, our own nobles had gathered to wish us farewell and good luck. They clustered about the Prince, wishing him well, and as I waited obediently behind him, it struck me how little they realized of his quest and what it might mean. There was good-natured joking with him, and hearty wishes for good fortune, but none of his nobles looked particularly worried for him.

As we boarded, with still no sign of Thick, my heart sank and my belly knotted with fear. We could not leave him here alone, no matter how annoyed Dutiful might be with him. There was not just the fear of what he might do in our absence, but my worry over what might be done to him, stripped of the Prince's protection. Would the Six Duchies nobles care much what became of a half-wit lackey in Dutiful's absence? I leaned on the railing, and stared over the head of the crowd milling on the docks, up to the stronghouse. Web came to lean beside me. “Well. Looking forward to the voyage?”

I smiled bitterly. “The only voyage I'm looking forward to is the one that takes us home.”

“I haven't seen Thick come aboard yet.”

“I know. We're still waiting for him. He was reluctant to get on another boat, but we're hoping he'll come on his own.”

Web nodded slowly and sagely to that, and then wandered off. I stood, fretting and chewing the side of my thumb.

Thick? Are you coming? The ship will leave soon.

Leave me alone, Dogstink!

He flung the name with intense anger, so that I almost smelled the image he hurled at me. On the edges of his fury, I could feel his fear and hurt that we would so abandon him. Our departure had agitated and worried him, but I still suspected his stubbornness would win out.

Time and tide wait for no man, Thick. Decide soon. Because when the waters are right, the ship has to leave. And after that, even if you let us know you've changed your mind and want to come, it will be too late. We won't be able to come back for you.

Don't care. And with that, he slammed his walls so tight that it felt like a physical slap. I was left feeling that I'd made the situation worse.

Too soon, I saw the final preparations for our departure begin. A late arrival of cargo from the Maiden's Chance came on board. There were a number of small casks, and I smiled, wondering if Chade had recalled a stash of brandy on the other ship. Weaponry and tools came aboard as well, as we filled up the odd corners of the hold with anything Chade thought might be helpful. But finally, it was time to depart. Well-wishers who had followed the Prince on board were leaving. The Hetgurd representatives arrived with their gear. All the last-minute cargo was stowed out of the way and the small boats that would tow us out of the harbor and into open water were manned and waiting. Web came to stand anxiously beside me at the railing.

“I don't think he's coming,” I said quietly. I felt ill. “I'll go and speak to the Prince. We'll have to send someone after him.”

“I already have,” Web replied grimly.

“You did? What did Prince Dutiful say?” I hadn't seen any of our guardsmen depart from the ship.

“Oh. No, not spoken to him,” Web replied distractedly. “I sent someone. Swift.” More to himself, he muttered, “I hope this isn't an unfair test. I think he can do it. But perhaps I should have gone myself.”

“Swift?” Mentally I measured the growing lad against Thick, and shook my head. “He'll never be able to do it. Thick is awkward, but he's surprisingly strong when he's roused. He might do the boy harm. I'd best go after them.”

Web seized me by the arm. “No! Don't go! Look. He's done it. They're coming now!”

The relief in his voice was as if Swift had conquered some monumental task. Perhaps, in all justice, he had. I watched them come, the short man trudging along by the slight boy. Swift carried Thick's pack and held his hand protectively. That shocked me, but even at this distance, the boy's attitude was visible. His head was up and wary, and he met the eyes of every man they passed, as if challenging him to mock the half-wit or delay their progress. It was as great a display of courage as I'd ever seen, and my evaluation of the boy soared. It would have taxed my will to lead Thick by the hand through that throng, yet on they came. As they got closer and I could see the expression on Thick's face, I realized that more was at work here than simply sending a boy to bid him come.