But this morning, the master was as green as the money he stole. Seasick wasn’t a good look for Mago. Or since he was now standing on a dock rather than a deck, I guess that made him just plain sick. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Mago; I liked him a lot. But when my normally impeccably dressed and groomed cousin was leaning over a dockside railing, disheveled, disreputable looking, and about to toss what was left of the last food he’d managed to keep down . . . well, call me twisted, but that was funny.

Mago tossed and Phaelan chuckled from where he was standing next to me. Phaelan’s sense of humor was even more sick and twisted than mine. And yes, it’s possible.

Though as Mago’s little brother, it was Phaelan’s job not only to embarrass him, but to make him miserable. I’d never seen Mago looking more miserable than he did right now, and Phaelan didn’t have a thing to do with it. My cousins’ dad was Commodore Ryn Benares, the most feared pirate in any body of water larger than a bathtub. Phaelan was a chip off the old mainmast. Mago was quite possibly the craftiest weasel I’d ever met—a weasel who couldn’t set foot on a ship without feeding the fishes.

I’m a member of the family while not being in the family business. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. No one else believes me, either.

I’m Raine Benares. Like the rest of my family, I’m an elf. Unlike the rest of my family, I have a legal and moral job. As a result, every other Benares makes more money than I do. Hand-over-fist more. Believe me, crime most definitely pays.

I’m a seeker. I find lost people and missing things. Though the only things I’ve found lately are more ways to get into trouble and almost get myself killed.