On the high seas, a man didn't always have time to consult his charts or the opinions of his officers before giving his orders. A sudden squall, the sound of a dromon's drums carried on the wind, or any of a dozen 'unexpected' things could force a captain to react based on everything he'd seen before, and trusting that the disasters of yesterday had given him a way to survive the crisis of the moment.
Devlin didn't know what was happening in the common room of the Gilded Horns, but he knew enough to recognize a trap when he'd blundered into one, and his body started moving even as his mind struggled to catch up. His fighting knife appeared in his hand almost without thought while he threw his other arm out to bar the simple servants behind him from coming any closer to the dangerous inquisitors at the far side of the room.
"Isabell, how could you?" Devlin spat, glowering at the woman who had delivered them into the waiting arms of Lady Jocelynn's greatest enemies.
