The wharf was quiet except for the steady slosh of the waves against the wall. Afrim crouched down behind a barrel of what smelled like fish guts. He kept a close eye on the carriage in front of him, waiting for the moment the door would open and reveal the man inside.

If the intelligence he'd received was good, the carriage should contain Lord Ifan and his servant, a brown-hair called Ioram. They had come ashore from Lord Ifan's lighthouse retreat twice over the last few months. The first time, Afrim had been too late to catch them, to see what he needed to with his own eyes. This time he would not be so unlucky.

The driver of the carriage hopped down, checked on the horses to make sure they weren't going to balk, and then walked around to the door. He opened it without ceremony and held it open.

"Alright, Master Ioram. We're at the docks, sir. Mind your step now, it's rather damp out," the driver warned, his voice kind and cheerful. Afrim held his breath lest someone see the fog in the night and become aware of his location.

"Frosted teeth of the She-wolf herself, it's cold!" Ioram said as he stepped out of the carriage. Afrim still hadn't quite got used to the colourful turns of phrase that these Vincs used to describe things, though he got the impression that this was not a warning that an actual wolf was on its way.

Ioram was a fat man, with a round face and a bowl-cut. He wore robes, showing he was tied to mages rather than an average manservant, but his brown hair and lack of golden eyes showed that he was far from the powerful mage his master was.

Afrim waited for Lord Ifan to appear, but the door was promptly shut behind Ioram.

"Will y'be needin' the carriage much else tonight, sir?" the driver asked. Ioram shook his head.

"I don't suppose so," he replied. The driver looked at him expectantly and Ioram elaborated. "I intend to stay at the tavern tonight."

"Right y'are sir. You want me to swing by in the morning to pick you up for the boat?" he asked. Ioram considered it.

"As much as I would enjoy the walk, it is so darn cold these days. Send a carriage round at 9 o'clock to The Wand and Prayer," Ioram said. He reached into his pocket and produced a few coins. "And have yourself a few pints tonight on me. It was very last minute that you waited on Lord Ifan and I. We appreciate it."

Afrim shifted his weight, breathing out slowly through the collar of his scarf and then taking another lungful of air. He clenched his fists in his pockets.

"The Wand and Prayer, sir? Wouldn't have had you pegged for the kind of man that likes to drink there," the driver said, uncertainty making his voice wobble. He seemed to realise his inpropriety when Ioram gave him an indulgent smile.

"I am sure I will not get into any bar fights tonight. Now go on, I have my business to attend to and you may as well start making a dent in those coppers I gave you," Ioram made a shooing gesture. The driver laughed and raised his hand in farewell as he walked away.

Ioram watched him go before turning to the barrel of fish guts and addressing it directly.

"I know you are there. I may not have magic but I've a sense for these things," Ioram said plainly. Afrim's heart beat hard in his chest.

He stood up, revealing himself in the gas lamps of the wharf. He was tall, eye to eye with the man in front of him, but far more lithe. His brown eyes didn't leave Ioram, who did not look alarmed, just curious. He drew the hood of his scarlet cloak down, revealing a young black man with skin the colour of rosewood and dreadlocks disappearing beneath the collar of his mantle.

"Well, I'm judging from the sneaking around that this is not a social call for me. Out with it," Ioram said, putting his hands into his pockets. Afrim bit down his rage at being treated so dismissively.

"You and that man. You are responsible for all this. All this suffering," Afrim accused. "You have watched as men and women were ripped from their homes! All to prop up a kingdom that is faltering from a war we have no part in!"

Ioram let out a long sigh and looked away. A small line appeared between his brows.

"You are right about one thing. Lord Ifan was the one who set up the slave trade. He was the one who pushed it passed the King, who had the power to make the guards overlook centuries of law. But you are wrong to think me complicit in it," Ioram replied. "I am not your enemy."

"You look like my enemy from here," Afrim replied. Ioram sighed once more.

"That may be true, but I believe if you listen to my story, you will appreciate that we are not so different, you and I. We may be able to work together," Ioram said. Afrim sneered, baring his teeth.

"Why would I trust a man like you? You will sell me to the guard the moment you learn of my location," he spat. Ioram removed his hands from his pockets and held them up placatingly.

"Forgive me, but if you are in the business of stopping slavery, then I think I already know where you're located. The Starlit Rebels have been more active than ever recently," Ioram's tone was mild. Afrim moved then, holding up the crossbow he had acquired specifically for the situation. He aimed it at the center of Ioram's head.

"How do you know our name?" he demanded. Ioram did appear to be sweating now despite the cold, but he still held his head up high.

"Because I have been looking for you with a message from the Brotherhood. Astra Inclinant, Sed Non Obligant, brother. You have nothing to fear from me," he said. Afrim lowered his crossbow, the situation finally clicking into place.

"You are a double-agent," he accused. Ioram shook his head.

"No. It is more complex than that, but I cannot speak of it here. Come, let us go to The Wand and Prayer. You can send word to your people if you wish to have them watch our exchange. I mean you no harm, and we have much to discuss. There is more in motion now than the slave trade, and you must understand all the pieces to have any hope of freeing your people," Ioram said. "Your name is Starlit, but there's no need to scrabble around in the dark."

Afrim reached into his pocket, snapping the quill he had been given in half and then drawing his hood back over his face.

"You walk ahead and keep your hands free at all times," he said.

"Of course," Ioram said, holding his arms away from his body in an unnatural way. "I am used to looking mighty odd as I walk around in these ridiculous robes. Why not look like a penguin as well?"

Afrim did not smile at the joke.