Cry to Cruel Gods by Kennedy Sutton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Kennedy Sutton
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available for Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
IT IS SAID THAT THE EASTERN SEAS TAKE A PRICE FOR PASSAGE. THAT ANGRY
gods or monsters lurk in the waters awaiting ships and sailors. Once, not long
ago when I was Dixon, Captain Bennett Holt told me that the longer I sailed
superstition would grow on me like barnacles beneath the ship. One friend
lost to eastern seas is not a pattern, and I am not superstitious. If it ever
happens again, though, that might change things.
It took us six days after Mickey’s death to reach the Floating City of
Highbay, but no one is to leave the ship. I do not know exactly why we
hesitate, but enough men do that the orders have not been questioned aloud. I
am hopeful that I will learn more details eventually. Bennett has been
especially secretive in the hours we have spent stuck between land and sea.
Brighal is a large cluster of islands formed close together. They are of all
different sizes and Bennett has said that they all have some things in
common, but that each one has its own set of customs and styles on top of the
ordinary. The Floating City is on the island closest to Goran and sees a good
deal of traffic, which is what makes it so affluent.
The light from the stained-glass lanterns reflects off the water and
colorfully painted ships and docks, making it all appear like a strange
painting of a place someone made up. I have never been so eager to be in a
place. My heart has never longed to set foot somewhere, yet here I am,
anchored at sea by orders.
Nearby, my least favorite shipmate, Cecil, sings a song. He has never
done much more than roll his eyes at me, but I have been warned he speaks
poorly of me and that I should not be alone with the man.
Not wanting to gain adversaries or give my distaste for him away, I
mostly avoid him. Tonight, between my foul mood and Cecil singing one of
Tom Heath’s favored tunes, I mean to silence him.
Trying to sound polite rather than disgusted, I only manage to fall
somewhere in between the two opposing tones. “Would you pick a different
Cecil stops mid note and smirks. “Don’t like my song, girl? It’s a clever
tune, dontcha’ think?”
His answer is too familiar for my tastes.
“I do not, and do not call me girl.” Since he insists on smirking, I am less
Cecil shrugs and picks up a new tune, this one a hymn that reminds me of
my dead husband. I do not know if my dislike of him makes his songs worse
or if his songs are making me dislike him. Either way, there is no fixing it
now. I hate him and that is that.
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