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. . help . . ."
The captain recovered from his shock. "Norry. Take the
wheel. Steer wide of them." Dunvane ran to Imkhian's door
once again. "Revered Son! Come out, please! You must see
this!"
Imkhian emerged. The captain pointed at the scene
ahead.
A flicker of surprise marred the smooth surface of the
priest's composure. His eyes moved left and right, taking in
the dreadful panorama.
The flotsam shoal was only a ship's length away. Norry
wrestled with the wheel, but, without sails, the
SUNCHASER could not resist the current. The ship's blunt
bow was pointed at the thickest concentration of rafts. The
people were making ready to climb on board.
"Do not stop," Imkhian said swiftly.
"But, Revered Son, a seaman's duty is to aid - "
"We cannot help them," answered the priest. "There is
neither food nor water enough on this ship to save twenty,
much less such a multitude. We can do nothing for them.
You must fulfill your mission, Captain. The serpentine
bowl must be delivered."
"Help us ... mercy, please . . . save my baby . . ." came
the cries.
The cutwater struck the first line of rafts with a
sickening crunch. Dunvane saw Norry's hands trembling
violently on the wheel. In a cold, anguished fury, the
captain shoved the mate away and took the wheel himself.
The SUNCHASER rode over everything in its path. The
screams and groans of the dying people were horrible to
hear. Dunvane knew he'd be haunted by the memory for the
rest of his days.
Jermina, left to herself, cast about wildly for some
succor to give to the people in the water
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