The Reach never leaves you—not really. Even in southern waters, its icy fingers find a way into your veins.
Would Jeer-Tei have been so quick to join if he knew the Haven raid wasn't at all about gold? When will Hlana piece together the larger implications of what we plan to do to that Elven town? How quickly would Yngold move to slit my throat if he realized which master I truly serve?
I can't remember the cove where I grew up. Named my damned raiding band after the place, but when I dream of it I don't see the cove. I just see what's north of it. I dream of a broken city and a broken king. Ice and blood. A million screaming voices shouting one word, over and over again.
What does it mean? Will I ever see it? Do I even want to?