6
It was late afternoon when they reached Gemona. This time Nanja anchored the brigantine in a sandy bay near the gorge where the seafarers were camping.
Groaning, Margoro struggled down the rope ladder into the landing boat and later waited to get off until the seafarers had pulled the boat up the beach. Nevertheless, he stepped into the water with his precious brocade shoes. Of course, he hadn’t taken her advice about dressing adequately: That would have meant looking like an ordinary citizen.
With a grim mien he gathered his robes and stalked up the beach. With every step the high heels were boring their way into the sand and he had trouble moving on. When he had finally found his way through the adjoining rocks, the shoes were irrevocably gone. “And how do you get the horses back on
