The Magian’s Shadow

…Alright. Listen here, you river dogs. I sailed to Pipryet once. Once was enough. Came down from Suriene marsh Longship full of stolen silver Furs. Blades. Three chests of Brecht coin. Thought the smugglers would be waiting. …They weren’t. Dock was empty. Wind and gulls. Nothing else. Row, boys — row Row while the night is deep Row, boys — row Where the dead don’t sleep Row, boys — row Don’t take that land Shadow walks In Magian’s hand Found one old dock rat. Shaking hands. Wouldn’t look me in the eye. Says: “They’re gone.” Smugglers. Cutthroats. Fence-men. All swinging on the gallows road. Magian’s justice. Row, boys — row Row while the night is deep Row, boys — row Where the dead don’t sleep Row, boys — row Don’t make your stand Riders hunt In Magian’s land Six months back… Warlords ruled those marshes. Bandits. Raiders. Men like us. Then the Magian came. No crown. No throne. Just Riders in the fog. And graves behind them. I weighed anchor before dawn. Didn’t even drink the rum I bought. Because somewhere behind those reeds… Those Riders were riding. Row, boys — row Row hard and keep Row, boys — row Where the dead don’t sleep Row, boys — row And hear me say No outlaw lives In Pipryet bay So plunder gold And chase the foam But keep your prow From Pipryet’s home For wolves may roam On land or sea …but none outlive The Magian’s decree