The last, dreamy, drowsy days of summer were on us, hot and still. Most of the time there was no wind, and we had to go under oar. In the afternoons, thunderstorms often came up and we ran into the nearest beach so that we would not have to ride out the worst of them, though if there was no island at hand we would run before the storm, letting the winds hasten our way to the Free City.One afternoon like this Kos was at the tiller and I stood at Dolphin’s prow. The wind of our passage washed over me, cooling me after the heat of the day. The sea was turquoise. In the distance, far off to our right, some island I did not know glimmered like a jewel in the Aegean.Xandros came up beside me and leaned against the rail, bending over. “Ah, there he is,” he said, smiling.I looked down. A shadow raced just below, more than the length of a man. A dolphin was riding in our bow wave.In a moment his nose broke the surface, an old dolphin, his face seamed with scars. He seemed to smile up at Xandros.“He’s been with us for four days,”
