“Pakil. Zukat. Help the duke.” Imala snapped and two goblins jumped. Literally.

Tam twisted in the water, and I saw it.

A crossbow bolt sticking out of Chigaru’s shoulder. The explosion didn’t throw him in the water; an assassin’s shot did. The explosion must have made the prince drop his shield, just before that bolt arrived. Talk about bad timing.

The crowd on the waterfront was getting bigger by the second. Armed goblins were stalking through the crowd, looking for a hit man that they weren’t going to find. Anyone hired by Sathrik to take out his baby brother would have enough sense to be long gone by now. Once he found out that his shot just took Chigaru in the shoulder, he’d be back for another try. But for now, he’d have ditched the crossbow, and was probably having a drink in a dockside dive.

Tam was climbing a ladder that extended from the water to the dock with Chigaru limp over his shoulder. The prince was almost as tall as Tam, and all lean muscle. Yet Tam was climbing that ladder like Chigaru weighed no more than a child.

Imala turned toward the yacht that was now being tied to the dock. “We need a healer!” For such a tiny woman, she had no problem making herself heard over the chaos.

A mage ran forward, leaping like a cat over the distance between the yacht’s deck and the dock. He saw me and his lips pulled back from a pair of very impressive fangs in a snarl. Judging from his robes, he was one of the mages I’d played boat tug-of-war with; judging from that snarl, he recognized me, too.

Mage and healer, and both pissed. He clearly wanted to do something about it, but he had a job to do first. He glared at me and then knelt beside Chigaru, turning all of his attention to the prince. The bolt had taken Chigaru in the right shoulder just below the collar bone. I remembered Chigaru as being left handed. It wasn’t going to kill him and it wasn’t going to slow him down. Much.