“But back to the voyage. So, north of the mountains, Jeriglia took us to the coast. We found a small village there on the shores of the Bay of Cantrassa, and in the small natural harbor were the remains of five boats. The masts still stood high, but the hulls were rotting, and sea creatures and birds had made them their home. Some of the village was built from wood harvested from the wrecks. Other buildings had been hacked into the soft cliffs, and still others were made from stone blocks, carved carefully over years. The people there feared us at first, especially the Serians among us. They looked at our swords, and my scars terrified them most of all. When they asked where I got them, and I told them about the seethe-gators, that seemed to relax them. A little. But it was only when we met their elders— saw their scarred faces and skin scored by decades at sea—that we knew for sure these were raiders.”

Konrad paused for a while and refilled his mug. This time there were no calls, no shouts to continue. He had cast his spell, and Nomi's attention was fully focused on the story. Is this a tale of love or of loss? she thought. Perhaps both . . .

Konrad drank some wine, sighed appreciatively and continued. “We wanted to kill them all. Though the frequency of raider attacks had dropped off drastically, we still knew them for what they were. Yet the younger ones among them did not have the look of raiders, and they mostly spent their days farming the fertile lands around the village, or fishing out in the bay from boats that looked barely seaworthy. The older ones, still bearing the scars, were friendly toward us, offering us food and shelter. Though they seemed confused as to why we were there, they opened their village to our presence.

“And then I met Neria. One of the few true raiders left among them. A lover.”

Konrad stopped pacing and stared down into his mug. “I need more wine,” he said. Lowkie stood and poured, and worked his way around the group refilling mugs. There was no talk, no banter, because nobody wanted to interrupt Konrad's tale. It hung in the air unfinished, like a rock about to fall or a horse set to leap. Nomi sensed that the heart of the story was yet to be told, and everything up to now had been the preamble.