The Bone Ships

The greatest revenge is not taken with a blade, it is that done by taking your enemy’s taunts and throwing them back in their face.

I’ll not deny the Hag my love, Let us fly to her in pride. I’ll not deny the Hag my love, For duty have I died.

He heard her say those words and was sure he was not meant to; they were little more than a sadness breathed out.

as steady and immovable as a rock

My father made battles sound like glorious things.” “That is for stories,” she said quietly. “We fight in the hope that others will not have to, and we fight to keep those we have come to care about safe. We fight even for those who do not deserve it. There is no honour or greatness in what we do, except among fools. I fight, in the end, because I have no other choice” – she held his gaze with hers – “and neither do you. So remember this, if you hear tales of bravery and greatness, they are nearly always told by people who have only watched battle from afar. Those of us who have suffered through it know such stories as a skin over the horror of what is true. No sane woman or man wishes for war, and those that do never would if they thought it would leave paint on their doorsteps.

It nodded at his words then stepped back. As he turned for the door it smoke again, softly. "Are you sad, Joron Twiner?" "Sad?" "Smell lonely. Not a good smell." "And you would know?" "Yes," said the gullaime, and this was the cry of faraway skeers circling over their nests, the cry that every deckchild associated with lost ships, breakers smashingon to cruellytoothed rocks. It was the sound of loss. "Yes," it said again. "I know.

Are there any other well-guarded places I should not be that you would like me to get into, Shipwife?” he asked. “Not at the moment, Joron,” she smiled, “but when I think of them you will be first to know.

So you will take me to die with you?” he said. He had seen little that made him believe they had any sort of friendship, but this seemed little thanks for it.

No sane woman or man wishes for war, and those that do never would if they thought it would leave paint on their doorsteps.

Indeed, Farys.” Joron stretched his shoulders, getting the ropes of the gullaime’s harness comfortable. “Who among you knows the land well?” None answered, and Joron almost kicked himself. He may as well have accused them of being stonebound – no deckchild would admit to that. “Are there those here who Meas trusts to hunt when her ship needs food?

Few have the tits on them for that.