"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to move along," Petrus said more firmly.
"This is a place of business, and—"
"Silence!"
The word carried such authority that Petrus actually stumbled backwards, his mouth snapping shut as if compelled by power. It was said in a tone that was low-pitched and sharp.
The siren's attention returned to Jaenor.
"You don't belong here, land-walker. These waters have been ours since before your ancestors crawled from the mud. Perhaps it's time you found somewhere more... suitable."
Jaenor kept his face straight and said in a flat tone, "I have every right to be here. I work honestly, I pay my taxes to the Earl, and I bother no one."
"Ah, but you do bother us," the siren said, beginning to circle his station like a shark scenting blood.
"You and that woman you share a bed with. Oh yes, we know about Odessa. The entire port knows about your little domestic arrangement."
The mention of Odessa sent a spike of protective rage through Jaenor's system.
