Chapter eight
Of the sharing of clothes“Now what are we going to do?”
Hundle the Design, skinny as a spear-shaft, stepped forward. Everyone left in the party gathered around as the twin suns rose. Their warmth on this morning, their refulgence, brought no happy welcome.
Hundle had proved knowledgeable about the boat and the way she should be handled. Now he said: “I was a Schinkitree master before my boat hit a half-submerged log and filled and sank. I lost my boat, all the merchandise I carried for the merchant Dorian Merlo, who was a Lamnia and my friend, my living and my freedom.”
They all listened, not shouting out about what the hell had this to do with their plight now. The thin ex-boat master was clearly leading up to something important he had to say.
“Go on, Hundle the Design
