"Jhelom's Third Great Call To Arms"
The sea around Jhelom was the color of old iron. It heaved under the hull of the ferry in long, deliberate swells that made the timbers groan and the pilgrims sway where they stood. No one spoke much now. They had spoken on the first day out, when the mainland was still a bruise on the western horizon and the gulls followed overhead, shrieking like spoiled children. Men talk when land is near.
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