You're not the only one, old man.
They shared no more words on the way back to the others. For all the chaos of the crossing, Kulp had expected this part of the plan to be relatively straightforward. They would come to the coast. They would find Duiker's friend waiting ... or not. He'd fought down his misgivings when the historian first came to him, asking for help. I diot. Well, he would take them off this damned island, deposit them on the mainland, and that would be that. It was all he'd been asked to do.
The sun was rising, the sorcerous storm over the sea withdrawing from shore to boil black and bruised over the middle of the straits.
Food had been brought from Ripath. Heboric joined his two companions in a silent, tense meal. Kulp strode to where Gesler sat watch over his two sleeping soldiers, the three of them beneath a square of sailcloth rigged on four poles.
The corporal's scarred face twisted into an ironic grin. 'Fener's joke, this one,' he said.
Kulp squatted down beside the corporal. 'Glad you're enjoying it.'
'The boar god's humour ain't the laughing kind, Mage. Strange, though, I could've sworn the Lord of Summer was... here. Like a crow on that priest's shoulder.'
'You've felt Fener's touch before, Gesler?'
The man shook his head. 'Gifts don't come my way. Never did. It was just a feeling, that's all.'
'Still have it?'
'I don't think so. Don't know. Doesn't matter.'
'How's Truth?'
'Took it hard, finding a priest of Fener who then turns around and denies us all. He'll be all right – me and Stormy, we look out for him. Now it's your turn to answer some questions. How're we getting back to the mainland? That damned wizard's still out there, ain't he?'
'The priest will see us through.'
'How's that?'
'That'd be a long explanation, Corporal, and all I can think of right now is sleep. I'll take next watch.' He rose and went off to find some shade of his own.
Wide awake, arms wrapped around herself, Felisin watched the mage rig a sunshade, then slip beneath it to sleep. She glanced over at the marines, feeling a wave of gleeful disdain. Followers of Fener, that's a faugh. The boar god with nothing between his ears. Hey, you fools, Fener's here, somewhere, cowering in the mortal realm. Ripe for any hunter with a sharp spear. We saw his hoof. You can thank that old man for that. Thank him any way you care to.