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.No, if there was danger here, it would come from off-island, and with a dozen warships on station, there was little to fear.Night watch was a necessary precaution, but there was no real danger.Yarel strolled his patrol area with one hand on the pommel of his sword and the other tucked in his belt.The burned-out shipyard had been dismantled, but the massive ship-hauling device had escaped the flames and loomed tall in the moonlight, its upthrust frames resembling the skeletal fingers of two cradling hands.He passed one of the haul’s massive wheels, almost as tall as he was, and trailed his sword hand over the rusty iron rim.He had to concede, it was peaceful here, no loud tavern brawls or signaling trumpets, just the night sounds of the jungle, the hum of the insects, the lap of the water on the black sand beach, and the roar of the distant surf on the reef.All was quiet.Yarel strolled out the long wooden pier near the mangroves where the little smack Flothrindel was chained to the dock.This, he knew, was the admiral’s main concern: he didn’t want the natives stealing the boat and running off without his permission.Under the wan light of a crescent moon peeking through scudding clouds, her graceful lines shone as if she were spun from beams of starlight.She was a sweet craft, her elvin lines pleasing to the eye, yet seaworthy and speedy, if the tales of her passage from Plume Isle to Tsing and back in less than a fortnight were to be believed.Yarel wondered if Joslan’s concerns were more selfish than defensive; the little boat would make an elegant admiral’s yacht.“Maybe, someday…” he murmured, tucking both hands in his belt.Plans for the future—retirement someday, maybe with a corporal’s pension—rambled through his mind, distant and vague.He wouldn’t mind having a little fishing smack like this, taking her out a few days a week from Tsing Harbor to catch grouper or the big dolphin-fish that ran in the deep.The income would supplement a pension nicely, and there were doxies aplenty in Tsing on which to spend it.A splash off the end of the dock snapped his reverie, and he looked down into the water, counting the concentric ripples.Some fish had been startled, probably by a barracuda hunting by moonlight.The big fish prowled like wolves in the shallows.“Careful.”Yarel whirled at the lilting feminine voice behind him, reaching for his sword.His cry of alarm caught in his throat, however, for before him stood a woman of such surpassing beauty that it took his breath away.She wore naught but a filmy nightgown, sheer enough to tempt his eye with a glimpse of her curvaceous outline.Her pale skin shone luminous in the moonlight, her face framed by a wreath of dark hair.Her lips were full and smiling, but her eyes were cast in shadow.“Who— Pardon, Lady, but what are you doing out here?” he asked, peering at her more closely.By the gods, she was beautiful.He’d never seen a woman quite like her before, certainly not on this forsaken little island, of that he was sure.Nobody could forget a woman like this.“Enjoying the night,” she said, her voice low and haunting.She approached him, raised one slim hand, and traced her graceful fingers across his chest.“You should be more careful, walking out on the docks like this.You marines wear mail under these handsome uniforms.If you took a plunge, I daresay you would sink like a stone.”“Don’t worry about me, Lady,” he said, still cautious, but not wanting to be rude.Perhaps the poor lass was touched in the head.“We’d best get you to the keep and into a robe.A lady like you shouldn’t be walkin’ around in naught but a night shift.”“Oh, I’m warm enough,” she said, raising her hand to caress his stubbled cheek, “and we have time enough.”“Time enough for…” Her hand blazed a lazy trail down his cheek to his neck, her fingertips brushing the lobe of his ear, then lingering.He reached up to pull her hand away [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.No, if there was danger here, it would come from off-island, and with a dozen warships on station, there was little to fear.Night watch was a necessary precaution, but there was no real danger.Yarel strolled his patrol area with one hand on the pommel of his sword and the other tucked in his belt.The burned-out shipyard had been dismantled, but the massive ship-hauling device had escaped the flames and loomed tall in the moonlight, its upthrust frames resembling the skeletal fingers of two cradling hands.He passed one of the haul’s massive wheels, almost as tall as he was, and trailed his sword hand over the rusty iron rim.He had to concede, it was peaceful here, no loud tavern brawls or signaling trumpets, just the night sounds of the jungle, the hum of the insects, the lap of the water on the black sand beach, and the roar of the distant surf on the reef.All was quiet.Yarel strolled out the long wooden pier near the mangroves where the little smack Flothrindel was chained to the dock.This, he knew, was the admiral’s main concern: he didn’t want the natives stealing the boat and running off without his permission.Under the wan light of a crescent moon peeking through scudding clouds, her graceful lines shone as if she were spun from beams of starlight.She was a sweet craft, her elvin lines pleasing to the eye, yet seaworthy and speedy, if the tales of her passage from Plume Isle to Tsing and back in less than a fortnight were to be believed.Yarel wondered if Joslan’s concerns were more selfish than defensive; the little boat would make an elegant admiral’s yacht.“Maybe, someday…” he murmured, tucking both hands in his belt.Plans for the future—retirement someday, maybe with a corporal’s pension—rambled through his mind, distant and vague.He wouldn’t mind having a little fishing smack like this, taking her out a few days a week from Tsing Harbor to catch grouper or the big dolphin-fish that ran in the deep.The income would supplement a pension nicely, and there were doxies aplenty in Tsing on which to spend it.A splash off the end of the dock snapped his reverie, and he looked down into the water, counting the concentric ripples.Some fish had been startled, probably by a barracuda hunting by moonlight.The big fish prowled like wolves in the shallows.“Careful.”Yarel whirled at the lilting feminine voice behind him, reaching for his sword.His cry of alarm caught in his throat, however, for before him stood a woman of such surpassing beauty that it took his breath away.She wore naught but a filmy nightgown, sheer enough to tempt his eye with a glimpse of her curvaceous outline.Her pale skin shone luminous in the moonlight, her face framed by a wreath of dark hair.Her lips were full and smiling, but her eyes were cast in shadow.“Who— Pardon, Lady, but what are you doing out here?” he asked, peering at her more closely.By the gods, she was beautiful.He’d never seen a woman quite like her before, certainly not on this forsaken little island, of that he was sure.Nobody could forget a woman like this.“Enjoying the night,” she said, her voice low and haunting.She approached him, raised one slim hand, and traced her graceful fingers across his chest.“You should be more careful, walking out on the docks like this.You marines wear mail under these handsome uniforms.If you took a plunge, I daresay you would sink like a stone.”“Don’t worry about me, Lady,” he said, still cautious, but not wanting to be rude.Perhaps the poor lass was touched in the head.“We’d best get you to the keep and into a robe.A lady like you shouldn’t be walkin’ around in naught but a night shift.”“Oh, I’m warm enough,” she said, raising her hand to caress his stubbled cheek, “and we have time enough.”“Time enough for…” Her hand blazed a lazy trail down his cheek to his neck, her fingertips brushing the lobe of his ear, then lingering.He reached up to pull her hand away [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]