He and Malcolm made a great show of examining the wreckage of the raft with its PVC gridwork, the transparent Filmar and ripstop nylon, the medical kit with its shiny foil packets and brightly colored pills, and the water purifying equipment which had washed ashore in the wreckage.
”And was this all?” Kit asked worriedly.
”No, Father,” Sergeant Braz answered. “There were strange, devil-made guns which we cannot make sense of and even more frightening things.”
They brought out an M-1 carbine, a beautiful .458 Winchester that must have belonged to Koot van Beek, and a stained leather bag containing Margo’s ATLS and personal log. Kit and Malcolm exclaimed to one another in Latin, made worried sounds, conferred at length, took apart the “devil” guns to see what might be inside, and admitted bafflement over the strange equipment.
Kit finally announced Tierce service, which ate up a good bit of time, then returned to examining the “evidence” until time for Sext. After that, he questioned each of the traders closely about everything he had seen and done and felt and thought during the past six weeks. That took them to None service, which he and Malcolm dragged out nicely.
They had just finished None when a disturbance outside the fort brought a shout from one of the traders.
”The search parties are returning! Open the gate!”
Kit and Malcolm exchanged glances, then hurried after the soldiers who ran to open the fort’s high wooden gates.
Kynan Rhys Gower was a strong swimmer. But when the raft broke up, throwing him into the water, something heavy caught him a grazing blow across the temple, stunning him. He floundered in the breakers, swept away from the wreckage by a powerful southerly current. Kynan managed to keep his face above water and let the sea carry him, too dazed to struggle and wise enough to marshall his strength before trying for shore.