16
THE SALAMANDER: NINE MONTHS BEFORE THE TRIAL
I handed the lens back to Rohm. We stood on the port deck together. Behind us milled the hundred soldiers I’d called up from below, awaiting orders. The Corsairs were closer—two ships behind and one ahead. The dirigible that had been following us on the horizon for two days was still floating far to the west, now rendered invisible by the sun behind it, but I knew it was there. It would be closer now.
“I thought our signal flags were up to date,” I said. The comment was pointless, but I felt a juvenile need to say something.
“So did I.”
We’d been lucky until then. Even the karakh had been calmer than Dakar had predicted they would be, despite their confinement and the endless rocking of the ships. I’d only lost one man to them since we’d
