Simona dimly heard the splash as the body, wound in a sheet and weighted with rocks, was tossed over the side. Another bell was tolling farther off elsewhere in the fleet. The Anvil moved sluggishly, her sails slack. Simona was soaked, clammy, suddenly cold under nothing but a single sheet. She struggled to move. Her mouth was so dry, so hot. Her eyes opened, for the first time in days she could see. Filek was sitting beside her on a chair pulled up against the door of the little cabin. There was a jar of water and a ladle beside him. At the sight of it her thirst became overpowering. "Father," she croaked. His snores stopped. "Father." His eyes popped open. "My daughter speaks!" The water was so cool, so wonderful, she thought she had never tasted anything better in her entire life. "Will I live, Father?" "Yes, daughter of my heart, you will live. Just about everyone who has recovered by the sixth day has lived." "Mother?" Filek's mouth tightened, and Simona felt her heart melting inside.
