Low evening fog descended around the ship, seeping a sheen of frost across the deck. The helmsman pulled tight his long coat and scarf, steeling himself against the cold. At their back the lights and towers of the city Urund-ir had already begun to fade. By morning, they would disappear entirely beneath a sheet of thick gray cloud.

Tall pines pierced the coastal fog to the east, massive shapes made vague shadows by the dying light. The helmsman looked to the west, where the waning sun had all but set. Hidden as it was behind the winter clouds and tall black peaks of the Elder Mount, night had fallen hours earlier than expected. The helmsman spat and eyed the hoarbitten rigging. It was to be a long voyage, with few passengers.