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." Dunvane went on to enumerate his
losses - sailors, sails, rigging. "But your special cargo is
safe,' Revered Son, safe and undamaged."
The priest nodded. "That is well. The Kingpriest
himself is expecting the serpentine bowl before the great
Festival of Purification."
"If I may ask - what is it for?"
Imkhian folded his hands. "It will be placed in the great
temple in the center of the city, and there an eternal flame
will be kindled. That is why it must be made of serpentine;
any other stone would eventually crack under the
continuous heat."
Cries outside interrupted the priest. "Heave away!"
yelled a voice, and there was a loud crash. The ship slowly
righted itself.
"The men have cut away the broken foremast that was
making us list," Dunvane explained. "The hull is
undamaged."
"How will we proceed without sails?"
"There is spare cloth on board. We'll patch together a
small sail, Revered Son. We are being drawn by a current.
Our progress will be slow, but we can proceed."
Imkhian frowned, his pale blue eyes narrowing. "Time
is short, Captain. The voyage was only supposed to last a
week."
The captain shifted nervously, his head still bent in a
posture of deference. "No one could have foreseen the
tempest last night, but I don't think it will delay us more
than a day. But . . . Revered Son, what could that globe of
fire have been?"
The priest looked thoughtful. "Forces of evil are
rampant, Captain, and the work of our great Kingpriest is
often threatened
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