The lookouts remained on high alert to make sure no Urecari vessels saw them. Up against the cliffs, a small pier and marker obelisks indicated a stony path that wound into the narrow gorge. Destrar Tavishel was sure that this was the right place. Flushed with excitement, Jenirod watched the determined Soelanders take up their weapons and prepare to go ashore. “Are you sure we need all these men, Destrar? Fashia's Fountain isn't a military outpost, just one of their unholy shrines.” Tavishel gave him a cool look. “Do you fault my thoroughness?” Jenirod shook his head. “No, we both have too much riding on this operation. Let us do it in the name of Queen Anjine.” The Soeland destrar barked gruff orders, but the men already knew what they were doing. Creaking ropes lowered the small boats over the side, and the men rowed to the lonely pier, disembarked, then sent the boats back for additional shore parties. Jenirod sat aboard the second boat, anxious to fight. Tavishel arrived with the very last group.
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