Martha, the baker, POV

Although kneading dough was making Martha's hands pruney, at least the task prevented her from dwelling too much on the smell.

"That much for a loaf?" Glancing at the price board she had chalked up the day before, Gareth, the merchant who was her current customer, huffed. "Robbery, that is."

She didn't bother looking up. "Grain's more expensive now. More mouths to feed."

That was the reality. She had known every face that walked through the door six months prior. Half of the patrons were strangers now. Above her door, the bell jangled and in walked the tanner. The man looked ready to murder someone.

"Martha, you sign that petition yet?"

"Which one? There's three going around."

"The one about the latrines. We need proper sewers, not just more holes in the ground."

"Signed it yesterday."

In fact, she had signed all three. One for the market square's expansion, one for additional wells, and one for sewers. Doubt Lord Theodore would read any of them, but what else could they do? In all of this, the bathhouse had at least provided some degree of comfort.

The tanner was leaning against her counter, and she could smell the general stench from outside mingling with the chemicals used in his trade. Wonderful combination, that. "Had another family move into the room above my shop. That's four families in a building meant for one."

"Five in mine," Gereth said. "Baby crying all night. Can hardly sleep."

Martha knew the feeling. The bakery's upper floor, where she and her husband lived, now hosted two other families. The coin was good—gods knew they needed it—but privacy was a distant memory. Could hear everything through the thin walls.

"Lord Theodore's got to do something," the tanner said. "All his fancy machines bringing people here, but where they supposed to live? Where they supposed to shit?"

"Language," Martha said automatically.

The door opened again. This time it was the woman who ran the tavern down the street. Woman looked haggard.

"Lost three more customers last night," she announced to no one in particular. "Said they couldn't eat with the smell. Went to that new place on the north side instead ."

"We should march up to the manor," Gereth said. "Make him listen."

"And say what?" Martha asked. "Please, m'lord, stop making your inventions so useful? Stop bringing prosperity to the town? I think he will do something about this."

"And I think he won't." Gereth snorted.

Martha rolled her eyes. This man had been outspoken about his displeasure ever since he sold his land to Lord Theodore.

"Maybe the petition will work," the tanner said.

"Nope," Gereth said.

Question was whether Lord Theodore knew.

Martha went back to her dough, kneading with perhaps more force than necessary.

***

Theodore POV

"Smuggling what?" Theodore was leaning forward.

"Dunno." Freya shrugged, the childish enthusiasm she'd been putting on completely gone from her expression, instead replaced by something flinty. "They shut up when they noticed me listening. But the way they were talking, whatever it is, it's profitable enough to risk making enemies."

So they were stuck on a ship with potential smugglers, and two unknown strong presences who were clearly interested in the whole mess. What could possibly go wrong? Theodore drummed his fingers on the table.

"We should figure out what they're moving," Juliana said, closing her book. "If something goes wrong—and let's be honest, something always does—we need to know what we're dealing with."

Theodore agreed. It was not pleasant to be taken by surprise aboard a sandship in the middle of nowhere. Particularly when those two powerful presences were observing everything. Really, it made his skin crawl. Like being a mouse with two cats close by, each of them watching the same prey while feigning not to see one another.

Freya made the suggestion, "Could just ask them," with a grin that was less humorous and more menacing. "Politely, of course."

"Your version of polite usually involves someone bleeding," Juliana pointed out.

"Only sometimes."

Direct confrontation would be messy. These weren't street thugs. They were organized and careful, and they probably had contingencies. Plus, starting trouble on a sandship was asking for disaster. Nowhere to run if things went sideways.

But they needed information. And sometimes the best way to get information was to make people think you already had it.

"Actually," Theodore said slowly, an idea forming. "We don't ask them anything. We make them tell us."

Juliana raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Make them think we know more than we do. Apply pressure in the right spots. They're already tense. Already watching each other. All we need to do is... nudge things along."

"That sounds like it could backfire spectacularly," Juliana said.

"Probably will." Theodore grinned. "But it'll be interesting either way."

For the first time in days, Freya's eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "Now you're talking my language."

The plan was simple. Too simple, probably, but those were usually the ones that worked best. Or failed most spectacularly. Theodore would rather not dwell on the possible outcomes.

First step: investigation. Freya would wander near the noble groups again, this time being more obvious about it. Let them see her listening. Make them nervous. Meanwhile, Theodore would approach the woman at the bar—the strong presence who'd been watching everything. Not to confront, just to exist nearby. See how she reacted.

Juliana's job was to watch the other strong presence, the man near the nobles. See if he moved when the others got agitated. Figure out who he was really watching.

Simple, probably stupid, but better than sitting around waiting for something to happen.

Theodore had to admit, he had been somewhat bored in this journey. Grinning, Theodore made his way to the bar, trying to look casual. At first, the woman paid him no mind and continued to nurse her drink. He could sense the controlled strength more clearly up close. Imagine being in the shadow of a dormant volcano. Very calm at the moment, but might erupt at any moment.

He ordered a drink he didn't really want, taking his time. People always got uncomfortable with silence. Well, most people. This woman seemed perfectly content to ignore him.

He caught a glimpse of Freya approaching the noble groups out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't trying to be subtle. Good. Being noticed was the main objective. In order to elicit a response from them.

One of the younger nobles spotted her first. Whispered urgently to his companions. The conversation died immediately. All eyes turned to Freya, who just smiled.

"Don't mind me. Just stretching my legs." She said cheerfully.

The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. The nobles shifted, hands moving to weapons they probably shouldn't have on a civilian vessel.

The woman at the bar finally moved. Just a slight turn of her head, watching the scene unfold. Interesting. So she was paying attention after all.

"Your friend's going to start something," she said quietly. Wasn't really a question.

Theodore shrugged. "She's just walking around."

"Walking around like a predator sizing up prey."

Fair point. Freya did have that quality about her. Even when she was trying to be harmless, there was something fundamentally dangerous in how she moved.

"Maybe they shouldn't act like prey then," Theodore suggested.

The woman actually smiled at that. "You're not worried about starting trouble on a ship?"

"Are you?"

She took another sip of her drink. "Depends on the trouble."

At the same time, Freya had placed herself in the middle of the two groups of nobles. No longer were they gazing at each other; they were staring at her. Progress, Theodore supposed. Although it likely was not the positive type.

"You know," Freya said conversationally, addressing nobody in particular, "it's fascinating what people talk about when they think nobody's listening. Shipping routes. Territories. Products that aren't supposed to exist." She examined her nails. "Makes you wonder what else they're not talking about."

An older nobleman, most likely his faction's leader, rose slowly. "That's a dangerous accusation, young lady."

"Accusation?" Freya tilted her head. "I'm just making conversation. Unless you think I'm talking about you specifically?" Her smile widened. "Are you doing something worth accusing?"

The noble's face went red. He reached for his blade. Bad move. The moment he touched the weapon, Freya's entire demeanor shifted. The carefree predator transformed into something far more serious. Far more deadly.

"Please, draw it," she said softly

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Everyone could feel that moment before violence. Theodore sipped his drink, ready to move if needed. This wasn't quite what they'd planned, but then again, plans never survived contact with Freya. She'd gone off script and decided for a much more blunt approach.

The strong man finally stood.

"Enough," he said.

The nobility's grip on his blade loosened. Even though Freya's gaze never strayed, her body language revealed a hint of relaxation. The man walked forward, placing himself between them. Not favoring either side.

"This benefits no one. We're all stuck on this ship for several more days. Whatever grievances exist can wait until we reach port."

"She's making accusations—" the noble started.

"She's making observations," the man corrected. "If they don't apply to you, ignore them. If they do..." He shrugged. "That's your problem, not hers."

Impressive, thought Theodore. The man had essentially confirmed the smuggling without actually saying anything. Smooth. The nobility undoubtedly caught it as well; at this point, both groups were seeming visibly uneasy.

"Who are you to—" another noble began.

All the guy did was stare at him. The noble grimaced and quickly ceased speaking. No amount of resistance could have survived what he perceived in that expression.

"Anyone else?" the man asked mildly.

Silence.

"Good." He turned to Freya. "You've made your point. Whatever it was."

Freya grinned. "Just having some fun."

"Find different fun."

She actually laughed at that. "We should spar sometime."

"No."

"Aw, why not?"

"Because one of us would end up dead, and I'm not sure which." He said it matter-of-factly. "I prefer to avoid such uncertainties."

Freya's grin widened. "Now I definitely want to fight you."

As if nothing happened, he retreated to his seat and sat down. The nobles slowly, carefully, returned to their seats as well. The tension didn't disappear, but it lowered to manageable levels.

Theodore felt the woman at the bar relax slightly. "Your friend's insane," she observed.

"Completely," Theodore agreed. "But she gets results."

"What results were you after, exactly?"

He smiled, returning her gaze.

Hm. Maybe he should do it like Freya as well?

"Information," he said. "And we got it. Both groups are definitely smuggling something important enough that they can't afford attention, but not important enough to kill over. Yet." He paused. "Plus, we learned about our two mysterious observers."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You're not with either faction, but you're interested in what they're doing. Him too. Which means you're either law enforcement, competition, or buyers." Theodore studied her reaction. "I'm guessing law enforcement. Competition wouldn't be this subtle. And buyers would be friendlier."

She was quiet for a moment. Then: "You're smarter than you look."

"I have my moments."

"It wasn't entirely a compliment." She finished her drink. "A word of advice? Whatever you think you're doing, stop. These waters are deeper than you know."

"Usually are," Theodore said. "But I'm a pretty good swimmer."

She shook her head. "Every drowning man thinks that."

Just as Theodore was about to reply, Juliana approached him. He knew her well enough to discern the worry lurking under her calm look.

"We should go," she said quietly.

Nodding, Theodore moved. Freya joined them on their way back to their table, looking far too pleased with herself.

"That was fun," she said.

"That was reckless," Juliana corrected.

"Those aren't mutually exclusive."

"So what now?" Juliana asked once they were seated.

"Now we wait," Theodore said. "See who makes the next move. Someone will. Too much tension for everyone to just sit on their hands."

"And if that someone decides we're the problem that needs solving?"

Theodore shrugged. "Then we solve them first."

Freya leaned toward him. "Now you're really talking my language."

***

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