“I trust you would be ‘forced into action’ before she killed me . . . or started eating me alive,” said Hereward.

Fitz did not deign to answer this sally. They both knew Hereward’s safety was of almost paramount concern to the puppet.

“Perchance we should give the captain a morsel of knowledge,” said Fitz. “What do you counsel?”

Hereward looked down at the deck and thought of Fury at her board below, carving off a more literal morsel.

“She is a most uncommon woman, even for a pirate,” he said slowly.

“She is that,” said Fitz. “On many counts. You recall the iron ring, the three-times tap she did on our first meeting below? That is a grounding action against some minor forms of esoteric attack. She used it as a ward against ill-saying, which is the practice of a number of sects. I would think she was a priestess once, or at least a novice, in her youth.”

“Of what god?” asked Hereward. “A listed entity? That might serve us very ill.”

“Most probably some benign and harmless godlet,” said Fitz. “Else she could not have been wrested from its service to the rowing benches of the Nagolon. But there is something about her that goes against this supposition . . . it would be prudent to confirm which entity she served.”

“If you wish to ask, I have no objection . . .” Hereward began. Then he stopped and looked at the puppet, favouring his long-time comrade with a scowl.

“I have to take many more star sights,” said Fitz. He jumped down from the rail and turned to face the bow. “Not to mention instruct the helmsman on numerous small points of sail. I think it would be in our interest to grant Captain Fury some further knowledge of our destination, and also endeavour to discover which godlet held the indenture of her youth. We have some three or four hours before we will reach the entrance to the gorge.”

“I am not sure—” said Hereward.