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Mithadan and Airefalas walked quickly through a small crowd which stood swaying and clapping as a musician performed. Then they dodged quickly into a dark alley where they paused to remove the extra knives from their bags and cloaks and slip them into their belts. Airefalas stepped carefully from the alley into the wider street, looking both ways before motioning for Mithadan to follow. The road led roughly to the north and they moved rapidly along, keeping to the shadows.
In the late evening, the market was a sea of darkness, lit at places by lanterns and fires where the locals were gathered for entertainment. Here and there, alleys branched off to the left and the right, some guarded by men with spears or clubs and others shadowy as a cloudy night. The Gondorians avoided the brightness of the lamps and fires, but skirted the pools of light closely enough so that they could see the people around them. It seemed to them as if everyone they passed paused to examine their clothing as if weighing whether they were a worthy target.
After several minutes, the road forked. They paused briefly to examine both routes. The road to the right seemed to continue on to the north while the way to the left took a westerly course. By silent agreement, they chose the fork towards the west and, they hoped, the docks. For a while, it seemed as if they had chosen well, but after a time, the road curved gradually to the left again. The islands of light grew fewer and farther apart as they moved along uncertainly. "We are heading south again," hissed Mithadan. "We must go back." Airefalas examined a narrow alley which led off to the right for a moment, then nodded in agreement. They turned and retraced their steps, only to find their progress blocked by three burly men. Each held a spear on one hand and a bottle in the other...
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Time seemed to fly at the docks, as Saelon peered out into the night. Duilin stood nest to him when he was not pacing the decks. "It is well after midnight," growled Duilin. "And our friends on the corsairs appear to be asleep. May strong drink bring them sound slumbers."
Saelon descended from the helm to the main deck and leaned on the rail while looking down at the docks. There was no sign of movement in the guards' tent either. He sighed. "We will wait a bit longer," he said nervously. "But we cannot wait long. The next shift of the guard will arrive in perhaps an hour or so. We cannot risk running afoul of their arrival."
"The Captain..." began Duilin.
"The Captain warned us not to wait," growled Saelon. "As he should. His first duty is to the crew as is ours. If we wait too long, we will be fighting on the docks against insurmountable odds in the morning. He has given us a chance. We must take it...soon."
The minutes passed faster than Saelon cared to think. Below decks, he could hear the tense murmurs of the crew as they awaited the order to depart. But at last, he knew he could wait no longer. "Bring the next set of 'deliveries' to the corsairs and the docks," he instructed. "And Duilin, be quiet. If you run across anyone awake and asking questions, do not hesitate. Kill them if you have to..."
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