The kitchen bell rang once when the first shot hit.
Not an alarm call. A broken fastening threw the bell against its own support, and the familiar note sounded above the crack of timber as if Nad had called a meal at the worst possible time.
Tavin was already moving.
The Cinderwake had left the Gate that morning, one day later than planned. The river watch had closed the narrow reach to loaded vessels through the previous afternoon’s crosswind. Herva had posted the delay before boarding. The passengers had slept ashore, the cargo had remained secured and the accepted landing had received the changed time.
Now, on the thousand and sixtieth day, they were twelve river kilometers from the Gate.
The report that opened the channel had not seen the guns brought behind the stone screen above the outside bend.
The first round tore through the stern guard’s protected station.
Verrin Lo fell beneath the broken screen. Tesa Morn pulled him clear of the firing opening, put her own rifle above the remaining cover and shot toward the nearer gun crew.
