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. "Nay.
We've come more than halfway. It's better to make for
Gardenath, on the Istar coast." He shook his head and
tugged thoughtfully at his dark brown beard. "I haven't a
clue where we are, Norry."
"Surely the Solamnic coast lies south," offered the
mate, pointing over the starboard rail.
Dunvane was not sure of anything, and said so.
"Well," Norry said, "at least the cargo is safe."
Dunvane looked at the reason for their voyage. Lashed
to the deck hard by the mainmast was an enormous bowl,
carved out of serpentine stone by master artisans in
Palanthas. Dunvane and his crew were being well paid to
ferry this stone bowl from Palanthas to Istar. The sight
eased Dunvane's fear.
"I'll speak with the Revered Son," the captain said.
"He'll know what's going on. In the meantime, keep the men
busy. Don't give 'em time to think too much."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Dunvane circled the serpentine bowl, watching the
iridescent colors flare and die on its surface as he moved
around it. Although made of stone, the bowl was
remarkably light, in part because of the skillful fluting of
the underside. It was seven feet in diameter and two feet
deep in the center, yet four Palanthian stevedores had
loaded it without strain. Once the captain was satisfied that
its lashings were intact, he went aft to the sterncastle.
A gust of wind disturbed the eerie calm. Something
borne on the wind pattered on the deck and stung his face.
He stared at it - fine, black dirt. Here was a fresh wonder -
a shower of dirt this far out at sea! The wind swirled and
stole the dark dust from his sight
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