Lirika perches on the railing to my left. It gives her an excellent view of most of the galley as well as any boats approaching the open side of the Heron. Across the deck, the sailor who brought us is hauling our packs on board. Bren has disappeared into the hold to make sure the prisoners are fully taken care of before we look for the children.
Heron“I’m sorry,” Lirika says abruptly. “I should have gotten to you sooner.”
“It worked out.”
In the gentle glow of the rising moon I can just make out her expression as she grimaces. “Bren said you might be hard to keep up with. No offense intended, but with your foot, I thought he was exaggerating.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“He’s mad at you too, is he?”
“He got over himself.”
Lirika coughs on a laugh. “That’s good.”
Artemian climbs out of
