Presager
Leachim examines portents and potentials…
Leachim purloined the wheelhouse stool while the sailor went to fetch hot wine and breakfast biscuits. He perched himself near the portside rail and watched Irenya wedge herself into a small space among wooden crates near the stern. She sat huddled and withdrawn inside her cloak, staring out over the lake, until he thought her neck must surely be aching. He doubted that she was still looking at Holdfast, for all the appearance of her doing just that. Twice, he observed her chin sinking forward, and each time an inner need pulled her head erect. She put him in mind of a wounded creature hiding motionless behind inadequate camouflage, afraid to sleep.
The chunky sailor appeared at his elbow. He offered Leachim a share from the large woode
