Rafa looked on holding tight in one hand the design and ring, and with the other took Diogo’s hand into his, as Pêro became fuzzy, consumed by a cloud of white. A barrage of sadness overwhelmed him. The sea wrack smell was strong this bleak day, punctuating the deep loss of Pêro to this river and soon a sea of separation. Will I ever see Pêro again? Many say, “I’ll be back,” but it had been his experience that even with the best of intentions sometimes one did not return, for one reason or another — willpower alone did not override fate, one’s destiny. How to fare without Pêro and Paulinha at the Fabrica? And this new tile design request for the King? What will be my father’s fate? The passenger skiff vanished. His dark umber hands shook as he worked the signet ring onto his finger and tur
