Bermuda“Cerveza, beer Matarife, this dammed weather is hot,” growled Salboa, staring around the harbour and gesturing. They had arrived an hour ago in the Alcazabar, averaging over twenty knots an hour. It had taken nearly half a day to properly clean the engines, making the whole trip an ordeal for Salboa. He would never get used to the sea and hated being confined to the boat for days on end. He had judged it necessary, however, as Tresanton was more than capable of taking a different direction at sea without direct surveillance. He was still angry at Guy's audacity in damaging their engines with sugar right under their noses.
He was grudgingly impressed that it had not taken Guy and the other pawns long to work out that Bermuda was the location of the Cross. He resented having to follo
