And he really thought he would, this barefoot sweat-soaked duke of waves. He had shown Baru something vital, trusting or uncaring (perhaps this was a habit of the nobility, born into power, unconditioned to secrecy and meticulous self-containment—a habit of those who never had to earn their station). Unuxekome loved stories. He loved them much more than plans. If he could be the saga-captain sailing into death and legend, he would.
