“Stand your ground, men,” an old Firstblood called to the Antean sailors. He had a grey beard and a thick, powerful build. Yardem looked over to her, and Cithrin nodded him on. His ears flicked once and he stepped forward. “Hoy, Antea,” he shouted, his voice throbbing with a power she’d rarely heard in it before. “Name’s Yardem Hane. Second to Captain Marcus Wester. We’ve come as escort, to take you back to the governor. We can fight first if you’d like.”
