. Away to one side-port or starboard or one of those directions-a school of flying fish broke the surface in an attempt to escape the attentions of some dolphins. Brutha stared at the gray shapes as they zigzagged under the keel in a world where they never had to count at all
"Ah, Brutha," said Vorbis. "Feeding the fishes, I see."
"No, lord," said Brutha. "I'm being sick, lord."
He turned.
There was "Lord, I wish I wasn't a sailor at all," said Brutha. He felt the box trembling as Om bounced around inside.
"Kill him! Find something sharp! Push him overboard!"
"Come with us to the prow, Brutha," said Vorbis. "There are many interesting things to be seen, according to the captain."
The captain gave the frozen smirk of those caught between a rock and a hard place. Vorbis could always supply both.Sergeant Simony, a muscular young man with the deadpan expression of the truly professional soldier. He was standing next to someone Brutha vaguely recognized as the number-one salt or whatever his title was. And there was the exquisitor, smiling."Him! Him!" screamed the voice of the tortoise."Our young friend is not a good sailor," said Vorbis."Him! Him! I'd know him anywhere!"
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