She turned to wave at him. Her whisper twined around his heart: "Goodnight, beloved."
When they were gone, the erinye padding after them, Imazu gave Corun a rueful look and said, "So now we are out of the story."
"Not yet," answered the Conahurian, still a little dazed.
"Oh, yes, oh, yes. Surely you do not think that we plain sailormen will be asked for our opinions? No, Corun, we are only pieces on Shorzon's board. We've done our part, and now he will put us back in the box."
"Chryseis said—"
Imazu shook his scarred bald head sadly. "Surely you don't believe a word that black witch utters?"
Corun half drew his sword. "I told you before that I'd hear no word against Chryseis," he said thinly.
"As you will. It doesn't matter, anyway. But be honest, Corun. Strike me down if you will, it doesn't matter now, but try to think. I've known Chryseis longer than you, and I've never known anyone to change their habits overnight—for anyone."
"She said—"
"Oh, I think she likes you, in her own way. You make as handsome and useful a pet as that erinye of hers. But whatever else she is after, it is something for which she would give more than the world and not have a second thought about it."