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"Captain Graff, at yer service, ma'am," he said. His
beard was plaited in intricate braids, and a dull gold bead
hung from one earlobe. "We'll be weighing anchor ere the
sun strikes the housetops of Thel. Will ye board now?"
She made only the slightest nod of assent. Mistress Carin
went ahead, and two husky sailors fell upon their baggage.
Soren stood aside, one hand on the pommel of his sword.
Sturm stayed by him, taking in the busy spectacle of a ship
being readied for sea.
"Will it be a long voyage, Sergeant?" asked the boy.
"Depends on the sea and the wind, young lord. And the
skill of the mariners."
"Couldn't we wait a while longer? For news from
Father?" asked Sturm.
Soren did not reply. He stared at the housetops of the
town, waiting for the pink sky beyond them to blaze yellow,
then blue. Vapor steamed from his nostrils in the chill air.
"Sergeant, I shall board now," Lady Ilys said. Soren
offered his arm. "Come along, Sturm," she said. The boy
responded with a sigh. He dragged his feet up the worn
plank, looking back often to the barren hills east of town.
Lines fell from the ship to the water. Gangs of sailors
manned two broad sweeps and rowed SKELTER out of Thel
harbor
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