COMMAND THE TIDES - Wren Handman Page 0,3

so hard that the floor in front of the door was soaked in seconds, and she awkwardly stretched one arm out in an effort to reach the small outside lantern without exposing herself unduly to the elements. She managed to pull the lantern’s latch and swing the door open without wetting anything more than her arm and the hem of her pants, and the wind and rain put out the small flame without any intervention on her part. As she repeated the process with the other light, something in the darkness caught her attention.

There were spots in her vision from staring at the flame after so long in the dark, but she could have sworn she saw a huge shape, lumbering toward her down the street. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and she squinted to see past the blur of white light in her vision. There was definitely something there, but she firmly told herself it was probably a tinker, lumbering home in the rain. She shouldn’t be scared—she should feel sorry for the poor sap, with blocks to go before he made it to his bed. And if it wasn’t a tinker, well, even in weather like this the Gray Men would be out, taking care of any problems. Though the shape had been odd, as wide as three men…

She straightened up and stepped back, closing the door as slowly and deliberately as she could, not rushing. Still, she felt better as she slid the bar into place across the sturdy oak barrier.

“Honestly, woman,” she murmured to herself, scuffing water off the floor with one stockinged foot. She almost left it, knowing she had to be up early the next morning—Annelle would be over, and she always made such a fuss if she thought Taya wasn’t sleeping well, forcing sleeping draughts at her and loading her down with RestWell charms.

Thinking of her friend made her smile, and helped ground her more firmly in the real world. She grabbed a cast-off piece of cotton from the counter and mopped up the water, then blew out the lamps around the room. When she reached the last one she took it off its hook so she could carry it upstairs, taking the security of its light with her.

She had only reached the second step when a loud pounding rocked the door behind her. She spun in place, holding out the trembling lantern. She half-expected the door to have caved in, from the sound the pounding had made, but of course it was fine. She took a quick breath, staring at it in complete stillness, praying she had misheard—another crash of thunder, surely!

The pounding started again, more urgently, and this time there was no mistaking it. Knocking, and surely a man to judge by the strength behind the blows. She scrambled for a pair of scissors from behind the counter before moving cautiously toward the door. Getting the bar off the door was awkward with the scissors in one hand and the lantern in the other, but she managed it. Holding the scissors loosely at her side she opened the door, letting it swing freely to the side, the light falling past her to illuminate the figure outside. At first, she thought it was some hideous monster—surely it was the strange shape from outside, grotesque and misshapen!

She was thankful she didn’t say anything, because she quickly realized it seemed as large as three men because it was three men—their greased cloaks were all the same color, which was what made them blend into a single form. In fact, on second glance they made an amusing picture. The man on the left towered over the other two, and he had one arm around the middle man, whose chin was touching his chest. The man on the right, on the contrary, was almost a head shorter than his burden, and though he must surely have been overwhelmed, he bore it well, no sign of strain on his face. The outside men were strangers, but as she stared at their unconscious burden, she realized in disgust that she knew exactly who he was.

“Darren?” she asked, completely exasperated, and stepped aside to let the three men inside. A sailor by trade, Darren often came to see her with little to no warning that he was back in town—still, he usually made at least a semblance of romance. Once, he had gone as far as to scale her back wall and climb in her