![]() ![]() ![]() The few fisherwomen who ride the night are all known to her and their prows are nothing like the shapes she glimpses in the corner of her eye. It is therefore without celestial intervention that Teodora, lips inclining towards those of her may-be lover, thinks she catches sight of something strange upon the sea. But the stars are not my domain, nor do I usually pay much attention to the dealings of little people in their sleepy villages by the sea, save when there is some great matter afoot that might be turned by a wily hand – or when my husband has strayed too far from home. Their sails are plain and patched, and had I power over the stars I would have willed them shine a little brighter, that the heavens might be eclipsed by the darkness of the ships as they obstructed the horizon. ![]() They give no cries of war, beat no drums nor blow trumpets of brass or bone. ![]() There are three ships, carrying some thirty men apiece, coils of rope set by the prow to bind their slaves oars barely tugging the sea as the wind carries them to shore. They do not burn any lanterns on their decks, but skim across the ocean like tears down a mirror. They come from the north, by the light of the full moon. Teodora is not the first to see the raiders, but she is the first to run. ![]()
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