Kalam shrugged. “Maybe. A lot uglier. I don't expect we'll have a chance to visit it, though. Itko Kan lies on the south coast, while Unta is on Kartool Bay, the north-east coast. Miss Darujhistan already?”
An expression of regret came over Crokus's face. He stared down into the waves. “Just some people there,” he said.
The assassin grunted. “Know how you feel, Crokus. Hell, look at Fiddler back there, mooning away as if somebody had cut off one of his arms and one of his legs.”
“Apsalar still can't believe you'd go to all this trouble for her. She doesn't remember being much liked in your squad.”
“Wasn't her, though, was it? This woman here is a fishergirl from some two-copper village. And she's a long way from home.”
“She's more than that,” Crokus muttered. He had a coin in his hand and was playing with it absently.
Kalam threw the boy a sharp look. “Really,” he said, deadpan.
Crokus nodded affably. He held up the coin and examined the face on it. “Do you believe in luck, Kalam?”
“No,” the assassin growled.
Crokus grinned happily. “Me neither.” He flipped the coin into the air.
They watched it plummet into the sea, flash once, then vanish beneath the waves.
From near the bow, Circle Breaker slowly nodded to himself The Eel would be delighted with the news, not to mention greatly relieved. Then he returned his attention to the west, and wondered what it would be like, no longer anonymous to the world.
