Kharl kept busy at whatever tasks were set before him. Some of that was internal work on bulkheads and decks, anywhere that water had managed to damage wood. He even repaired one of the cover panels on the port paddle wheel. When he was not working, sleeping, or eating, he was reading or—far less often—trying to exercise his still-limited order-skills. By the time the western coast of Hamor was in sight as a low dark line off the starboard bow, Kharl had read through every page of The Basis of Order. He could not say that he understood everything he had read. He hadn’t attempted to turn any more cold iron into black iron. He had tried using the ideas in the book to speed the healing of several minor cuts and scrapes he had received, and they did seem to heal more quickly, but whether that was because of his efforts, he still wasn’t certain. The only thing that had been certain is that the healing had not been instantaneous—and the book had said that it wasn’t supposed to be.
