“What do you want here?” was shouted from the tower. And Farys, dear Farys, shouted back: “Entry and help. My shipwife lies broken upon the deck.” And Joron – a lancing pain in his heart and the fading image of Dinyl, stood in his shipwife’s finery upon the rump of Bonebore while the fiery missile came down – thought that she spoke even truer than she could know.
