“Rolling like a drunk, Lady Polly was standing in to Mauxville, which was a port in Isilond and obviously not much of one. Running before a rising gale, she had made a fast crossing, but the next few minutes would be critical. Frozen and drenched by the rain, Lynx leaned against the ship’s side and waited to see if she would cross the bar safely. If she did, life would continue to be mud; otherwise it would be over. He didn’t much care either way. As far as the crew was concerned, he was a thief... on the run, which he was, of course, but not for stealing a cat’s-eye sword, as the sailors suspected. He was entitled to wear Ratter and he looked the part well enough that no one had tried to cut his throat for her, so far. Since he had not slept, they had had no chance to go through his pockets and had thereby been saved a severe disappointment. Lynx was no trader, and in his desperation to get out of Chivial he had paid out almost all his ill-gotten cash just for the fare. Night falling, wind rising.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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