What followed was a blur of c*****e as Dravidian cut down her son’s attackers in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible—almost as if the sword itself guided his actions—until the immediate threat had been vanquished and he was scooping up a scythe (presumably his own) from the deck and extending a hand to Sihadi ... who lay wounded upon his back, looking as confused as she felt— before taking the hand offered and being righted so that the two men she loved most in all the world stood together as newly-bonded allies. Nor was that the only thing that so touched her about the sight, for she saw that her son still wore about his arm the very same blue scarf which had been her late husband’s trademark.
But then came a new rebel, and another, and another, who fell upon them with their blades
