graceful hand at Yob, then motioned to a nearly invisible path in front of them.
Cheyne looked cautiously over his shoulder, the sensation of being followed rising up his back again. He fully expected to see Riolla and Rotapan bearing down on them. What he saw instead made him only a little happier. Two dozen burly, bearded men, skin the same color as the woman's, long coral knives in their hands, appeared and encircled them. Water droplets gleamed in their dark curly hair and clung to their beards. Bits of colored shells and sea urchin spines dangled from their ears and necks and at the belts of their ghomaskin breechcloths.
"You didn't think the riverking's daughter travels alone, did you?" Frijan beamed.
Yob remembered something, then, stirring out of his stupor,
"Daughter… Womba…" he cried softly. "The temple fell down, and you are left there, my little flower."
She wished he would stop that infernal singing. Womba shook the iron bars of the water dungeon and let loose with a mighty roar, causing the grizzled old selkie to cease his mournful song for a moment.
"Qh, good one. A few more of those and we'll be out," he chittered appreciatively. "Pray tell, orcess- why do they have you in here?"
Womba hung onto the rusty iron gate, the strong tide lapping up to her neck, and fitfully scratched at a bit of gray seaweed caught on one of her chin whiskers. The saltwater was ruining her dress, and if it rose much higher, she would surely drown. When she didn't answer, the old selkie flipped his tail playfully and resumed his song. Womba sighed and contemplated how much energy it would take to catch and eat the old furbag. But then she would be alone