Something stirred on the ladder. And then the sun caught Hwicca's bright blowing hair. She trod forth, dropping the trident in an unaware gesture. One leg showed through a rent in her gown. Her broad snub-nosed face was still bewildered; the blue eyes were hazed, as though she had not fully awakened.
"Hwicca," croaked Eodan. "Are you hurt?"
"No...."
He flung his sword to the deck and drew her to him. "We have the ship," he said. "We are free."
A moment only, her fingers tightened on his arms. Then she pulled away and looked over the blood-smeared deck. "Flavius?" she whispered.
"Up there." Eodan pointed with a stabbing motion. "We'll soon snatch him down!"
Hwicca stepped aside. She shivered. "It does not seem real," she said in a child's high, thin voice.
Phryne's boy-figure emerged. She was holding a dripping dagger. She looked at it, shook her head, flung it from her and bent shut eyes down upon clenched fists.
Eodan laid a hand on her shoulder. He had been wild at thinking of harm to Hwicca; now a strange tenderness rose in him, and he asked very gently, "What happened, Phryne?"
She raised a blind violet stare. "I killed a man," she said.