Derry began to slide a couple of maps toward the center of the table, arranging them so everyone could see. All of them had light blue surfaces with lines drawn across them — sea charts, I realized. Routes, maybe. Or territories.
The meeting was starting, and I still hadn't gotten anything to eat.
"We're not taking the direct route," Derry said, his voice a low rumble that filled the cramped cabin. One thick finger traced a line on the largest map. "Coastal voyage south, round the cape, dock at a Southern Threshold port — that's the obvious path. That's the path the Church expects."
Tristan leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "And the obvious path is..."
"Death," Po supplied cheerfully from beside me. "Or worse! The Inquisition doesn't kill you right away, Mr. Cade. They ask questions first. Lots and lots of questions."
'...Thank you, Po.'
