I didn’t see anything wrong, but Phaelan obviously did.

“What is it?”

“There’s only one man on each boat. The pilots. Harbor regulations in every major port stipulate a pilot and two crew. And do you notice anything wrong with the wind out there?”

One boat was running slightly behind the other—intentionally hanging back. No mean feat with all that wind.

I froze. “Wait a minute.” My eyes flicked to the goblin yacht’s rigging. The crew had pulled the sails in, and what canvas was still up was far from full. The only air moving in the center of the harbor was a light breeze.

There was plenty of wind behind those two pilot boats, but it sure as hell wasn’t natural.

A weather wizard. He or she was good, and probably about to split a gut moving enough air to fill those sails.

“And pilot boats keep themselves light, easier to maneuver,” Phaelan was saying. “The one out front is riding lower in the water than it should.” He scowled. “Way lower.”

One man, one laden boat. Another behind, no extra weight. Oh crap.

I reached over and yanked Phaelan’s spyglass out of his belt to take a look.

Elves. The pilots were both elves, in boats running alongside a yacht carrying a goblin prince—and the best hope for peace, a peace a lot of powerful elves and goblins didn’t want. The extra weight on one boat didn’t mean it was a suicide run with a hold full of explosives, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t.

I handed the spyglass to Phaelan. “I’m going out to take a look.”

I couldn’t walk on water out to those boats, but as a seeker, I didn’t need to.

I’d only done a Sending a few times before. The last time I’d been trying to locate a kidnapped spellsinger. Someone with mage-level talent had blocked me then. Now, the only thing between me and my destination was half a harbor full of water. Water and I had an agreement. I stayed away from it and it wouldn’t drown me. I came from a family of pirates and I couldn’t swim for shit. Yeah, it was pathetic.