Serenica arrived to his cabin, and soon enough it was apparent to her that he did not only need a doctor.
He needed a witch.
Everything was only slightly off inside the cabin, yet it was enough to make her think that something sinister was on the move.
The king-captain was driven to the bottom of his bed by some invisible force. Where vigor had been, sluggishness prevailed. His gaze was feverish. A lesser woman would have thought of a tropical disease, but this malady was something far more universal, a presence of water in the moist air, a presence of death.
"One should never try to tell one's own fortune," Spade said weakly. "Go…go look in the hold."
"You need immediate attention, though."
"No. Just go. Come back and tell me what you saw."
Serenica looked at Myorka, who was kneeling at the side of the bed.
