It was time to leave.
Trafalgar had the hood up and the case in hand, the old leather weighty now that it carried everything worth taking from this rotten place. Notes in an unfamiliar script. Pages written in Icarus's hand. The records on the sap mixture. The mention of a major alchemist. Too many pieces, all ugly in different ways, and every one of them dangerous.
He still needed Bartholomew for the writing.
And for the alchemist...
That part would take someone else.
Trafalgar stopped in front of Darian and extended his hand. Darian took it at once.
Their grip was brief, firm, without wasted ceremony.
"I'll contact you once I've gone through everything," Trafalgar said.
Darian nodded. "I'll be waiting."
