1 The twisted, moldy knots of the ship's walls became a road in Pebble's mind. He explored the highways and byways, marking his progress by the black marks where seawater seeped through the creaking wood. Memorizing the tangled lines helped him forget the pain. “This is getting boring,” mumbled the shirtless human who held the chain, wiping sweat from his eyes. “An hour and no screams.” “We're still just softening him up,” said the man with the mustache. “Soon we'll grab a bucket of salt from the hold. Then we'll have a little orc music to wile away the time.” “Admiral Proudmoore?” 2 “Fools!”