Shadowbridge

EPILOGUE

THE BLACK SHIP



Upon a deep-bottomed black ship well on its way across the sea to Vijnagar, beneath a thick, striped awning, a bony, bald-headed creature saw a bright flash just on the horizon whence they’d sailed and inadvertently in response said, “Ah?”

At this utterance of surprise, another, who might easily have been his gaunt twin, poured from the darkness behind him to see what had elicited the sound. On the horizon there was nothing now to behold. The morning sky was untroubled by so much as a single blemish. Not even a bird flew, as if even birds knew to keep far away from that ship.

The two creatures stared and stared at the horizon, unblinking, until one looked into the other’s sunken eyes and both shrugged together. “Enh,” said the first.

“What did you see?” asked the second.

“Nothing, Scratta.”

“This nothing caught your attention.”

“It was—”

The second one, Scratta, reached over and pressed a fingertip to his nose to cover a spot of calcitic gray showing there; when he withdrew his hand, the spot was gone, the nose pale and fleshy. He gave a satisfied nod at his handiwork. “Nothing to do with us,” he said, “unless it’s the one called Jax.”

The other shrugged again, dismissing the idea.

“No,” agreed the second, and he flowed silently back into the raven recesses of the ship.

The other turned to survey the untroubled distance behind them once more. A flash of light, he thought, most probably lightning over the horizon. It couldn’t possibly be relevant.

The black ship sailed on. It would reach Vijnagar by nightfall.