It was well past midnight when they reached the docks. The ships' sails were furled and covered, their many masts looked like forlorn trees in a winter storm. There were no lights anywhere.

Presently, a short, hooded figure began making its way down the gangplank of the nearest ship. It approached them unhurriedly, and walked with a slight limp. When it was about twenty feet from the head of the company, it tossed back its hood. It was a thin, wiry old dwarf with wrinkled features and a white beard.

"Master Nylandor?" he called.

Nylandor dismounted and approached. "I am he."

"I am Bix," said the dwarf. "All is ready. I suggest you leave your beasts yonder," he indicated some buildings a few hundred feet away, "where folk are waiting to tend them. Have your company divide into groups of fifty and board each of the ten ships that await them. You and your officers and friends will accompany me on my ship." With that, he turned and left for his ship.

Nylandor bade his friends dismount and leave their horses with one of his officers, to whom he passed the dwarf's instructions.

Rhia marvelled at the size of the vessels as they boarded the one the dwarf had disappeared into. It was at least two hundred feet long, with five masts! Why, they could each carry hundreds of people and all their belongings! She felt a great debt of gratitude towards Baldric.




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