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"This your boat?" Gavin asked, still disoriented He was seated on a bench next to a skinnyeyes, half clothed All of thewater or tearing into hardtack All wearing chains All watching him

"Yes, my boat The Bitter Cob, I call her, for how she’ll leave your nethers raw She belongs to s to her Serve well, Guile For if this old girl goes down, you go doith her"

The other end of his manacles snapped shut around the oar

"Gunner…" Gavin said, warning

"Captain Gunner, Nu"

"Orholam damn you, don’t you knoho I am?!" It had been almost two decades since Gunner had worked for Gavin Maybe tinize hirinned "He who asks, ‘Don’t you knoho I am?’ is the one who doesn’t know the answer But here’s the thing, Gavin Guile I’ive you the opportunity to find out"

"Not Gavin," Gavin said defiantly "Dazen My naht poured in "Whatever guile you use makes no matter to me You’re Galley Slave Six Third row, ly and obey alacritously, and you’ll get a head seat in six rinned toothily "Boys?"

Gavin said nothing He didn’t resist, for in the open door he’d seen soht of the reeking cabin, he hadn’t noticed: colors were alwaysof that door, with the sky and the birds and sails, and the pure puissant light that Gavin had been waiting to soak up to use to break these chains and escape, he saw so worse He couldn’t split the colors froht He couldn’t split the colors because he couldn’t draft the colors He couldn’t draft the colors because he couldn’t see the colors The ignorant speak of subchromacy as color-blindness, when it really is only color confusion

But Gavin was color-blind All the world was gray It was as Gunner had tried to tell hi that was special about Gavin Guile had been stripped away He not only wasn’t the Prism anymore, he wasn’t even a drafter The door to the deck slapped closed, and chains rattled through the handles, trapping Gavin in a blacker darkness than any he had ever known