Chang Chang nodded. Together they lifted Zu Ruo between them and followed the old man through the wound in the Ferryman's hull. Chang Chang cradled Zu Ruo's head gently and felt the lifebeat in her neck. She thought of Sull, and a fresh prayer surged within her, a plea for the lives of her friends.
They came through a dark passage and into a chamber of muted spell light. Fa Mu had cast a light spell on the preserved nests of insects clustered near the ceiling. A dank chill filled the air, creating the unsettling atmosphere of a tomb. Jagged planks and ripped sail gave way to what Chang Chang could only describe as a nest carved of rotting wood and arcane power.
Planks from the main deck had been stacked against the wall, their ends warped by magic so that they curled back on themselves like wood shavings. The rough chairs had been fastened to the hull for stability. Their curling ends seemed to have been done purely for style.
"Put her here," Fa Mu said.
