Extreme longshot, the Tanitin Easterly, with Mainetoille in the distant background. The sun is racing to the horizon, lighting PEGASUS as she sails for
the terminus of the Land.
We can see SAILORS, small figures, on the RATLINES, rigging the topsails, some of them unfurling -‐ Sabre’s called for speed, now, and they’re moving quickly to comply.
Movement on the DECK, too. At this distance, the figures are pretty much indistinguishable from each other, but SABRE is striding the deck, giving brisk
orders to WEST and ADULA.
1. ADULA/shout: Haul aft and tack!
2. SABRE: Wind off the beam. Rig yards and braces…
On the deck, closer, ADULA touching her forehead in acknowledgement to SABRE, as SABRE turns away to speak to WEST.
SABRE is all business right now, none of that devil-may-care manner to her right
now. WEST is attentive, thoughtful.
1. SABRE: …we’ve lost time to recover, Adula.
2. ADULA: Aye aye, Captain.
3. SABRE: Westfield, all hands to their duty.
4. SABRE: There’ll be open Aether beneath us by first watch or I’ll know the reason for it.
SABRE and WEST, closer. SABRE has lowered her voice. Her manner is very serious -‐ there’s a threat against them all now, and she’s aware of it, even if no one else understands its true extent.
3. SABRE/small: And get Giselle out of her hammock and up in the tops.
4. SABRE/small: Give her my glass if she wants it.
5. WEST/small: You expect pursuit?
THREE: On SABRE. Just a hint of how dangerous she can be.
6. SABRE: I rely upon it.
7. SABRE: I’ll be below, attending to our guests.