Sect Year 3 · eleventh month · day 3 · the Carried Hour, the Wide Sea
“Squall,” Lin said to the nearest sailor, a little after the midday meal. Meanwhile, the sky over the bow was still a clean, pale blue. He had seen it first, because he had been watching the water. A band of dark lay along the horizon, thin and even, and under it the sea had gone the colour of slate. The sailor squinted, shrugged, and said the captain had seen it some while before, and that the captain was not in the habit of being surprised by weather.
Within the space of a slow count the wind came round in the sails. The whole ship leaned, and the captain’s voice came down the deck like a thrown rope.
“Reef! All hands to the reef! Hold on, the lot of you.”
The crew went up the ratlines in a rush of bare feet and shouting. The sails came down in heavy folds that smacked and bellied and cracked. Lin found a stay rope in his hands before he had decided to take it.
He braced his feet on the wet planks and held, and the rope went hard and cold in his grip and dragged him toward the rail, and he didn’t think about it. His hands had simply closed. His shoulders had set. The ship came round into the wind with a groan that ran up through the soles of his boots and into his…
