And it was. Kel paused for a beat and felt a vibration coming up through his bones, entering his feet and traveling all through his body, and when he pressed his teeth together it felt as though they were going to shatter. From behind, the musical rattle of wine bottles clacking together. From ahead, the sounds of the storm, and whatever else it had brought.

Namior squeezed his hand. She was outside now, arm outstretched, and he was suddenly desperate not to let go of her.

“Come on!” she shouted. “They've gone up the hill behind the tavern to see better!”

Kel realized that, other than Neak and the windswept woman, he was the only one still inside the Dog's Eyes. He stepped out into the storm.

NAMIOR SUDDENLY WANTED to be back home. Her mother was there, and her grandmother and great-grandmother, and they had seen something more than storm tonight, something they said was absent. If they'd sensed something more, perhaps she would not have been so afraid. More could be dealt with, seen, challenged. But nothing could be done with nothing.

Mella and Trakis were already up on the observation platform, leaning on the wall and staring over the harbor and out to sea. Namior held tightly to Kel's hand, desperate not to let go, and he ran up the steps behind her, drawing close.

“What is it?” he shouted before they had even reached the wall.

Namior shouldered in between Trakis and Mella, hearing the watchers shouting words that the wind stole away. Rain drove straight at them across the rooftops, and the water had a slightly smoky taste when it hit her tongue, as though it had picked up chimney smoke.

Kel stood behind her, held her arms and looked over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” Namior said, because when she looked out to sea, that was what she saw.

Down in the harbor, waves smashed against the mole and harbor wall. At the base of the cliffs on the other side of the River Pav, the sea gnashed and foamed like a diseased creature, striving to gnaw into the land. Past the mole were white crests, waves breaking and rolling and building again, surging in toward the village and promising chaos. Past the waves, out to sea, where clouds flashed but no lightning danced on the horizon, a wall of nothing seemed to be growing in the darkness.

“What is that?” Kel shouted.

Namior shrugged, comforted by the feel of his hands on her arms.

“End of the storm,” Trakis shouted. “Sea growing calm.”

“No,” Mella shouted, and Namior listened because the fisherwoman was wise to things of the sea. “Everything's about to get worse!” She looked up at Trakis, then across at Namior, and Kel standing behind her. When she next spoke it was no longer a shout, but still they all heard. “We should be safe up here.”