The waiting was its own kind of battle, and the family had never been especially good at sitting still through one.
The Chainbreaker held her place at the edge of the golden ring for the better part of a day, riding easy swells while Corvanth's battered hull sat anchored a short distance off her flank. Vessa had come across twice more since the Drowned Host, trading rations and rumors, and the two crews had settled into the particular comfortable wariness of allies who had not yet decided how far the alliance went.
"Two more paths," Fraisea reported for the third time that hour, palm out over the water like she could physically feel the distance closing. "Closer now. Hours, not days."
"And something else with them," Lily said, from her perch on the mast, eyes still closed. "A lot of something else. Dozens of notes, all moving the same direction, all hungry in a way that has nothing to do with grief."
