Chapter 20From the prow of the Chimera, Aeneas peered into the mist. Curling tendrils of white blanketed everything. He was breathing cold soup. Under normal circumstances the Trojans wouldn’t have dreamed of sailing in such weather. The days were growing colder, the nights longer. The mornings were clad in grey and the winds were cruel. But need pressed them. The storms of the winter months would wreck the black fleet. Seventeen days had passed since their flight from Troy. According to Sergestos’s calculations, the Trojans had no more than two weeks to find Skamandrios, or they would be stranded. They had already been delayed when one of the cargo-tubs had sprung a leak, and the crew had to drop anchor to make emergency repairs. Now Beroe’s team was working double-shifts, and Palinuros’s
