Andreia's accounts of her experiences among the islands brought home to Renato just how different this region was from the one he had left behind.
Far from the mainland, the Sea of a Thousand Islands followed its own peculiar rules, whether in faith, race, or daily habits, all utterly unlike his own way of thinking.
Most people here worshipped chaotic deities such as Talos, god of storms, and Umberlee, goddess of the sea. Their attitude toward other races was also more pragmatic than that of the nations of the New Continent-or, rather, more ruthless.
After the Sahuagin raid, the scheming crew of the Hispaniola had suddenly settled down. No one on deck argued over the order of their shifts anymore. Under the second mate's hoarse commands, they silently adjusted the sails, pulling them taut in hopes of reaching the nearest land as soon as possible.
The bow cleaved through waves higher than before. The floating remains of the Merfolk were left far astern, attracting several Grayfin Sharks that circled the scraps of flesh, their splashes stark in the afternoon sunlight.
By evening, the setting sun had stained the entire sea a murky orange-red, with dark gold gleaming along the edges of the waves.
Just as the last sunlight off the stern was about to sink below the horizon, word came from the lower hold: the Sea Elf locked in the cabin had finally awakened.
They exchanged glances. Apart from the White Harbor sailors who already hated Sea Elves and refused to go near her, Captain De Leon, the Paladin Lectus, Renato, and Andreia all descended the dim companionway to the lower hold, curious but wary.
De Leon took out a key, undid the lock, and pushed open the door. The dim oil lamp in the captain's hand dispelled the darkness,