—Dyfrin of Keevain, the demon’s friend  NIGHTFALL AWAKENED as he nearly always did, without stiffening or changing his position, instinctively matching the deep in-and-out cycle of sleep breathing. His senses placed him in an instant: the warm scratchi ness of a woolen blanket, the toss and rock of a ship on the ocean, the quiet enwrapping him interrupted by the occasional and distant shouts of sailors. He heard nothing to concern him in their tones, just the regular announcements and banter that kept a ship safely and properly directed upon the sea. He lay in his cabin aboard The Sharius, alone; and he believed he had slept for quite a long time. He also knew a closer noise had awakened him. Nightfall opened his eyes to near-total darkness broken only by the leak of light through incompletely constructed walls. Gentle footsteps crossed the lower deck, coming toward his door. They sounded too delicate for Ragan or any of the Schizian guardsmen. Still dressed in the black silk pirate garb, the king’s ring tucked safely into its folds, Nightfall sat up and rubbed the hard seeds from the corners of his eyes.
