23
A claw-like probe of mental energy rakes your mind. Instantly your Discipline repels it, protecting your thoughts and memory from its wilful intrusion, but the unexpectedness and power of the attack leaves you shivering.
‘Are you all right?’ asks Paido. ‘Perhaps we should go below and shelter from this storm.’ You answer with a nod and follow him down the stairs into the welcoming warmth of the tap-room. The soldier Trost greets you on your return, but you fail to notice him—you are too busy scanning the hold for the stranger. You see him, seated alone in a shadowy corner opposite your table, quietly reading his black book.
