MORNING ON THE WATERFRONT
Ash falls like sooty drizzle in the muggy, windless air.
Charlotte kisses Benn. “Please come to Mordentshire as soon as this is done. Please.”
"Big boat!” Benn’s son stares wide-eyed at the massive dirty-white paddle wheeler that rattles and hums in the water.
Lorna says her own goodbyes to Dorgio, holding up little Sandor to receive a paternal and priestly blessing, and then standing on her tip toes to press his lips with her own. “I’ll look after them all. Just you look after yourself, love.”
Two swart boatmen haul the last of the travelers’ luggage over the gangplanks and onto the cargo deck.
The shrill whistle blasts three times.
"All aboard!"
Hurried last words, some lost in the noise and bustle, parting embraces, and then the separation.
The bulky vessel moves slowly at first, then faster as the wheel churns the river and the chimney spits smoke.
From the waterfront, Benn and his companions watch the Briar-rose as it steams upriver.
Charlotte, visible against the gray-white cabins in her black dress, stands on the rear upper deck behind a railing, waving her handkerchief to her husband. Lorna, standing beside her, waves, and then turns away to take the children below deck.
And then the boat passes round a midstream island covered in buildings, and passes out of view.
Shortly after the departure of Benn and Dorgio’s wives and children, and before the group has departed the wharves, a body of nine armed men draw near.
SPOT DC 12
The man in the lead walks right up to the party and draws something from the sleeve of his jack. A piece of paper. He squints at the paper, then looks over the party. His gaze settles on Benn.
"Sir, our mistress has need of a word with you, if you please."