Chapter 11

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The eyes of the Seer do not always see the way

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The eyes of the Seer do not always see the way. The mouth of the Oracle does not always speak the truth.

Gaal Hu, 1st Prophet 

"All hands! On deck!" After the sudden announcement, the voice from the crow's nest of the Oracle called out further clarification as to explain why there was an urgency required

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"All hands! On deck!" After the sudden announcement, the voice from the crow's nest of the Oracle called out further clarification as to explain why there was an urgency required. "Captain Matir on board!"

Climbing over the rail from the rope ladder dangling from the side of the ship, a member of her crew offered a helping hand as Reane boarded in the warming mid-afternoon air. Moored to the dock, the thousand ton merchant vessel bobbed on the sea as though it were nothing but a cork in a glass of water.  Several other crew members scampered onto the deck at the call of the watchman and, after stumbling over themselves, stood at strict attention. Reane waved them off and dismissed them and the needless formality.

The captain's heavy winter cloak had become a bit uncomfortable, the air warmer than any time in recent memory. She stripped it off and tossed it at one of the men.

Perusing the status of her ship, she nearly tripped over a stray board of lumber. Her eyes couldn't help but notice the scattered debris and remnants of work still both done and undone about on the deck.

"Brentai!" She called while bracing herself against the railing after nearly falling. "Brentai!"

A dark-skinned man popped up from behind a stack of barrels filled with pitch for patching the hull's waterproofing. Sporting a white shirt and leather breeches soiled with dirt and other assorted grimes, he adjusted a sash holding seven small daggers hanging across his chest upon seeing his captain standing there.

"Sorry Reane," he apologized in a thinly noticeable Pelsan accent. "I know the ship's still a mess."  The odd oval-shaped scar on his throat was noteworthy because of its more pinkish tone and odd location.  It gave the impression that someone had once tried to carve out his larynx.

"I can see that." Reane restated the obvious. "The question is, why is it still a mess?"

"Some of the crew have become ill in the past two days. I'd rather not get into the details of the rancid symptoms, but I thought it best to send them off ship until it clears up.  Didn't need them infecting everyone else. It's set back our repairs."

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