“We have only a little, but I anticipate more soon.” Ulrich tossed the captain a rag. “Clean yourself up, and get the rest of the crates unloaded. Whatever untrustworthy crewmen you have, get rid of them. When the first shipment of Violet sails west, nothing, and I mean nothing, must go wrong. For now, I’ll be loading a single crate into your hold, for safekeeping only. You are not to open it, let alone take a leaf, understand?”

Darrel stared off for a moment, as if still longing for the leaf, then shook his head to clear it.

“You’ll make a fortune with that,” he said. “Give me even a few samples, and I could get everyone west of the rivers hooked.” He sniffed his fingers. “This stuff even legal?”

“For now, and I’ve taken steps to keep it that way. Good day, captain. I have matters I must attend. Stay in port and wait for my orders. It may be a few weeks, but I’m sure you will find a way to pass the time. Make sure the crate is kept carefully guarded.”

He turned for the door, then stopped. It was ajar, but only slightly. He was certain he’d closed it.

“Such interesting pleasures,” said a man perched atop Darrel’s bed, his legs crossed beneath him. Both whirled, and Ulrich drew his dagger. Wrapped in cloaks and black leather sat someone Ulrich had thought only existed in rumors and stories. His face was hidden by heavy shadows cast by his hood, but his grin remained perfectly visible.

“The Wraith,” Ulrich said. “That’s who you are, isn’t it?”

“Such brilliant wisdom,” said the intruder. “Though perhaps I give you too much praise. You would have noticed me ten minutes ago if you were truly clever.”

“What in blazes are you doing on my ship?” Darrel asked. He took a step back, to where his sword hung on the wall. The Wraith tsk’ed at him, and he put a hand on the hilt of his blade.

“Stay still, sea vermin. I have no reason to kill you, but I will if you do something so irrevocably stupid. I come bearing gifts for our dear Merchant Lord.”