"Heh, sounds like she done lit a fire under ya, don't it?" Brown Leaf regarded Cinnamon with cautious enthusiasm. She straightened up from the railing she had been leaning against and ran a thumb across it. The new bark covering it was smooth, though less-so than its old lacquered state, though there was no danger of splinters. She liked this new boat, it was one that needed less fixing, something that could be sustained and strengthened without her constant attention. She wondered if Knife's followers were the same way.

"I dunno where this'll take us. We're chasin' somethin' I can't even describe, 'cept that I know we're chasin' it an' it's important. Last time I set out fer somethin' so vague I wound up on an island with a buncha other chosen, an my life ain't been the same since. If'n we gotta go, we gotta go, but yer stayin' here, I unnerstand. If'n yer placin' yer faith in Knife, what'll that faith make y' do when she ain't 'round t' tell you? Who's throat you gonna cut with that blade? You been takin' orders from gods'n chosen, so what happens when you decide fer' yerself? I ain't sayin' you can't decide, jes' that I want you t'be sure who yer pointin' yer blade at..." She carefully placed a fingertip to the point of the blade and guided it towards the old city, in the direction Tuoni and Kelam had wandered off towards. Even from here it was possible to see the greasy smudges of smoke hanging in a haze from hundreds of cooking fires made in hovels and under lean-to shelters, a slum by anyone's reckoning. "...before yer revolution cuts somebody what's jes tryin' t' stay alive."