Chapter 132

The river narrowed, forcing the immense fleet to proceed three ships abreast, creeping one line after another. The sailors groped ahead like blind men through the choking fog, some using long poles to prod forward, lest the hull strike hidden ruins or the wrecks that lurked beneath the waters.

No wind stirred within the Sorrows. The sails hung slack and useless; to drive the warships upstream against the current was a task of sheer muscle.

The newly sworn khalasars prayed incessantly, their eyes wide and white with fear. Some bent over the rails retching, all of them wan and miserable.