Chapter Thirteen
It was late night in the Port of Caska. They were all on The Singsong, several lanterns set up, sitting around the table drinking and playing cards. Lowen and Kell were sitting across from Isidor and Winter. Soule had gotten bored, since they were all speaking Dorsan unless they were speaking to her, and had gone to bed in the cabin.
“You’re going to have to learn to speak Siblin,” Isidor said to Kell.
“It was difficult enough learning this grunting language,” Kell dismissed, looking at his cards.
All three of them looked at him.
“Well, forgive us, Kell,” Lowen said sarcastically, “that we can’t just think Siblin at you.”
Kell laughed, shooting him a glance.
“It would be easier for me,” Kell agreed, discarding a card, taking up the wine, swallowing.
“I’m sick of sp
