"It seems wrong," he muttered. "Without you, I would be dead a hundred times over ... or still a slave. You should have the cabin, and we—"
"You could not be alone enough in a tent on deck," she said.
He heard Hwicca's breath stumble, but she uttered no word.
The sun went down, somewhere beyond the Pillars of Hercules. The moon, approaching the full, rose out of Asia. The men yawned their way to sleep; Eodan overheard one young fellow say it had been a trying day. Presently only the watch was above decks—a lookout in the bows and one in the crow's-nest, a steersman and Demetrios on the poop, two standbys dozing under the taffrail.
Phryne said to Eodan, "Will you not sleep, too?"
"Not till Tjorr relieves me," he said. "Would you trust that captain man?"
"I can oversee him, and call for help if—"
Eodan's mouth lifted wryly. "Thank you, Phryne. But it is not needful. Later, perhaps. Now I think we shall watch the moon for a bit."
"Oh." The Greek girl was a whiteness in the night; she seemed very small within the great ring of the sea. Her head bent. "Oh, I understand. Good night, Eodan."
"Good night." He watched her go to her tent.