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. She found a coil
of rope and threw its free end over the side. The castaways
clung to it, trying to climb the rope onto the ship.
Dunvane saw her as she steered to starboard in an
attempt to miss a raft laden with people. "The Revered Son
is right," he said through clenched teeth. "We've not
enough food or water to share. Cut the line, Norry."
Jermina screamed. Norry pulled out his sheath knife,
casting a look of agony at his captain. Dunvane could not
speak the order again, but he nodded once. Norry cut the
rope with one stroke, just as a pair of raw, blistered hands
reached for the rail.
Dunvane would never forget that dreadful voyage. When
at last they were clear of the floating refugees, he tied off
the wheel and slumped against the sterncastle behind him.
"Captain."
Dunvane opened his eyes. Norry stood before him.
"We're with you, sir," the mate said. "Me and the men, we
don't want to die, but we're scared. What's happened,
Captain? Who were all those people?"
"Pirates," said Imkhian, looming in the doorway to his
cabin. "Thieves."
"Your pardon, Holy One, but those were ordinary
townsfolk, not even sailors, by the look of their pale skin,"
Dunvane replied.
"Could they be? Could the woman be telling the
truth?" Norry asked slowly. "Were those the people of
Gardenath?"
"You're speaking blasphemy," warned the priest.
Still sobbing, Jermina cried, "Since when is the truth a
blasphemy?"
"Enough," Dunvane barked. The sullen sky was
darkening to purple as the sun began to set
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