Fel ow-worker good . Her eyes were losing their luster. From the river comes the deep rumbling whistle of a steamboat leav-ing dock. Their familiararoma permeated the air.
As they snarledwildly, their breath streamed out in ghostly vapors and their teeth and steaming coats glinted inthe moonlight. Faegan laughed again, then turned his wild eyes toward the door. The pitchfork was tornfrom the man’s hands to fly across the room; its tines embedded themselves into the oppositewall. Looking down, he watched the Sea of Whispers pass beneath him as its restless waves crashedagainst the Parthalonian coast.
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