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“Where’s Katrin?” Athgar asked, as they stood on the deck.
“Down below,” replied Natalia. “I’m afraid she’s suffering.”
“From?”
“Sea sickness, if you can believe it.”
“She was fine when we sailed from Karslev last year.”
“She was, but the water has been choppier the last few days.”
Athgar laughed. “She’s a Water Mage. Isn’t that a little like a Fire Mage not liking fire?”
“You like food. Have you never eaten something that upset your stomach?”
“Yes, I suppose I have. I apologize for the remarks. I assume Greta is looking after her?”
“She is.”
“And how is she coping?”
“Quite well, which is more than I can say for Belgast. He’s refusing to come up on deck.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? In his opinion, Dwarves are not made for going to sea.”
“So, he’s sick?”
“No. He doesn’t like the idea of the wide-open sea. Says he much prefers a crowded city, or at least some hills or trees to look at.”
“He’s just sitting below decks doing nothing?”
“Hardly that,” said Natalia. “He’s been playing cards with Stanislav, but that won’t last much longer.”
“It won’t? Why not?”
“Our dear mage hunter is losing badly. Unless I miss my guess, he’ll be out of coins before we make landfall.”
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