"I wouldn't mind sewing," she says, doing so. There's a streak of homesickness in her voice. "I miss spinning and weaving, here. It was always good to keep my hands busy, while I thought on other things, and even if we never use it to cover ourselves, we always need more seasilk."

Merwen turns to look at Soldat, her expression troubled. "I suppose it is one more way this place shares its sickness with us."