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Authors: Dave Duncan

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Gathmor
shook his head fiercely. “Desert a shipmate? You think you can talk me
into that? After what he risked for me in Noom? Think your damnable charm will
convince me of that?”

“I
wouldn’t use charm on you, Gath,” Andor said crossly. “Pretty
girls, yes. All the time! But never my friends. And my eyelashes won’t
work on the palace guard. They’re a tough bunch-I’d never try more
than two at a time. I’m sure I couldn’t bedazzle three. You think I
can just walk into the jail and carry Rap out with me? Two of us couldn’t
carry him anyway, the state he must be in. Two of us can’t fight a sultan
and his army and his people. There’s a war coming, so I hear ... No shame
in giving up when a job’s impossible, Cap’n. That’s just
plain sanity. “

Gathmor
groaned.

“A
sailor knows that,” Andor said. “You furl your sails in a storm,
right? And no one calls you a coward. This is the same thing. It’s
hopeless.”

Trouble
was, he was right.

“I
like it no more than you do, Cap’n. Even Rap can’t expect a witch
to fly in the window every time he wants one-and you and I shan’t be
needed if one does. Even if we could get him out of the dungeon, he’d
just die on us anyway. The wheel’s not torture, it’s a slow
execution. He’s as good as dead now. Two more deaths won’t solve
anything.”

Very
convincing, was Andor. Logical and clear thinking. A sound, honest man for an
imp, and no shirker-he’d been around the palace in the night, and that
had not been a mission for a coward.

“I
suppose this was what Lith’rian foresaw when he said it was too close to
call?”

“It
isn’t too close now,” Andor insisted. “The girl’s
married and bedded, and in Zark she’ll stay that way. Her kingdom’s
been divided between her enemies. The wardens have lost interest. The sorceress
is dead and the faun as good as-the sooner the better for his sake. He tried
and he failed! It’s as simple as that. “

“I
guess so.” Gathmor sighed. He glanced around and checked the wind. All
the way around to Qoble was a fair voyage, but of course they could make
landfalls on the way this time. They needn’t take on stores for the whole
trip. “I suppose so,” he repeated.

“Ever
been to a theater, sailor? Tragedy in Three Acts? That’s it! The curtain
falls and the play’s over. The audience dries its eyes and goes home and
gets on with real life.”

“I
suppose. “ Gathmor smiled to show his acceptance. “And I suppose I’m
lucky to have you here to stop me doing something crazy. Just feels like there
ought to be more, somehow. “

 

Tumult,
and shouting:

The
tumult and the shouting dies;

The
captains and the kings depart.

Kipling,
Recessional

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