knew. Even Garric stood at the back of the inn, leaning against the wall but upright; Reise was to his right and Tenoctris on the other side. Lora was nearby, her arms crossed to indicate that she was angry
about something, and Ilna had stayed close: Sheâd gone to check Garricâs condition as soon as she and Sharina had shouted their news to the hamlet.
Sharina stayed apart from her family. She felt a fluttering of fear and anticipation, something more physical than emotional, as she watched the warship. She didnât know why she felt as she did, but she was sure it had nothing to do with her kin.
She looked around. Nonnus was at the edge of the crowd, far enough forward that the larger waves curled about his knees as they ran in. He nodded when he caught Sharinaâs glance. She started toward him; to her surprise, he waded inshore to join her.
A drum in the shipâs interior thumped time to the stroking oarsmen. Sixty or eighty men stood on deck, many more than could have worked there while the vessel was under way, but Sharina didnât see any sign of confusion. The ordinary seamen wore only breechcloutsâand headbands for those men who hadnât shaved to bare scalp or mere stubble. Many of them were poised on the outrigger that carried the topmost of the three oarbanks. Officers in tunics cinched by broad leather belts shouted commands, but there was no anger in their harsh voices.
The vessel grounded with a rasp like that of a huge wave combing in while still offshore by her own length of more than a hundred feet. Seamen leaped into the surf. Officers tossed down coiled hawsers, then jumped over the sides also.
The oars slid in through their ports and vanished. More half-naked figures appeared on deck from the shipâs interior, then sprang overboard to help with the lines.
âThose are the rowers,â Nonnus said, raising his voice to be heard over the rhythmic cadence called by officers and bellowed back by the straining seamen. âThereâs only twenty or so deck crew to steer and trim the sails, so the heavy work of beaching the ship for the night is the oarsmenâs job.â
The tide was just short of full. The ship began to inch ashore, each step timed with the rise of the incoming surf.
Now that the deck was no longer crowded by men waiting to haul the drag ropes, Sharina had a better view of the figures still remaining. A stouter, gray-bearded version of the officers whoâd jumped into the sea was shouting commands from the curved sternpost: almost certainly the captain. A few other sailors remained on board.
Twenty-odd soldiers in black armor stood in a close mass near the bow. One of them held a banner. There wasnât enough wind to stream the fabric from its pole, so Sharina could see only that there were red markings of some sort on a black field.
She turned to ask Nonnus about the troops, but the question stuck in her throat when she saw his face. The hermit was looking at the soldiers also. His body was still, and his expression was as starkly terrible as an oncoming thunderstorm. There was no emotion in it; nothing human at all.
âNonnus?â Sharina said in a small voice. She touched his arm.
For a moment the corded muscle had no more give than a briarwood staff; then the arm relaxed and the face relaxed and Nonnus said in a voice with a playful lilt, âThe woman there in the red cloak in the bow, sheâs a high court official indeed, child. Barcaâs Hamlet is being honored by her presence, as Iâm sure sheâll be the first to say.â
Then in almost the same lilting toneâand âalmostâ can be the difference between life and deathâhe added, âThe Lady has a bitter sense of humor, it seems, to send them here.â
The ship came the rest of the way up the beach in a grating rush. It was lighter by the hundreds of men now pulling it, and the better traction the crew gained from firm beach beneath
about something, and Ilna had stayed close: Sheâd gone to check Garricâs condition as soon as she and Sharina had shouted their news to the hamlet.
Sharina stayed apart from her family. She felt a fluttering of fear and anticipation, something more physical than emotional, as she watched the warship. She didnât know why she felt as she did, but she was sure it had nothing to do with her kin.
She looked around. Nonnus was at the edge of the crowd, far enough forward that the larger waves curled about his knees as they ran in. He nodded when he caught Sharinaâs glance. She started toward him; to her surprise, he waded inshore to join her.
A drum in the shipâs interior thumped time to the stroking oarsmen. Sixty or eighty men stood on deck, many more than could have worked there while the vessel was under way, but Sharina didnât see any sign of confusion. The ordinary seamen wore only breechcloutsâand headbands for those men who hadnât shaved to bare scalp or mere stubble. Many of them were poised on the outrigger that carried the topmost of the three oarbanks. Officers in tunics cinched by broad leather belts shouted commands, but there was no anger in their harsh voices.
The vessel grounded with a rasp like that of a huge wave combing in while still offshore by her own length of more than a hundred feet. Seamen leaped into the surf. Officers tossed down coiled hawsers, then jumped over the sides also.
The oars slid in through their ports and vanished. More half-naked figures appeared on deck from the shipâs interior, then sprang overboard to help with the lines.
âThose are the rowers,â Nonnus said, raising his voice to be heard over the rhythmic cadence called by officers and bellowed back by the straining seamen. âThereâs only twenty or so deck crew to steer and trim the sails, so the heavy work of beaching the ship for the night is the oarsmenâs job.â
The tide was just short of full. The ship began to inch ashore, each step timed with the rise of the incoming surf.
Now that the deck was no longer crowded by men waiting to haul the drag ropes, Sharina had a better view of the figures still remaining. A stouter, gray-bearded version of the officers whoâd jumped into the sea was shouting commands from the curved sternpost: almost certainly the captain. A few other sailors remained on board.
Twenty-odd soldiers in black armor stood in a close mass near the bow. One of them held a banner. There wasnât enough wind to stream the fabric from its pole, so Sharina could see only that there were red markings of some sort on a black field.
She turned to ask Nonnus about the troops, but the question stuck in her throat when she saw his face. The hermit was looking at the soldiers also. His body was still, and his expression was as starkly terrible as an oncoming thunderstorm. There was no emotion in it; nothing human at all.
âNonnus?â Sharina said in a small voice. She touched his arm.
For a moment the corded muscle had no more give than a briarwood staff; then the arm relaxed and the face relaxed and Nonnus said in a voice with a playful lilt, âThe woman there in the red cloak in the bow, sheâs a high court official indeed, child. Barcaâs Hamlet is being honored by her presence, as Iâm sure sheâll be the first to say.â
Then in almost the same lilting toneâand âalmostâ can be the difference between life and deathâhe added, âThe Lady has a bitter sense of humor, it seems, to send them here.â
The ship came the rest of the way up the beach in a grating rush. It was lighter by the hundreds of men now pulling it, and the better traction the crew gained from firm beach beneath
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