VI
True Sailor’s DelightThe smooth glass of the sea mirrored every line of the ship, shuddering lightly as one sailor or another shifted position on the crowded deck or in the rigging above. Times of calm were a time of rest, and Iskra envied the sailors their languid stretches, their slow, lethargic conversations. Ethrins took life as it came, as placid in their moods as the sea.
“We have to wait, you see.” The captain’s quiet voice drew Iskra’s attention back to their conversation by the side of what she’d learned to call the taff-rail around the back the ship, the stern. “A calm like this means someone else has called the wind. We’ll wait our turn to call it ourselves.”
“But…” she knew already that her protests would be useless against Ethrin phlegm, but she asked anyway. “What’s th
