The Vylid boatman waved him on board, and he found a spot on the bench between to other, older, humans.
“First time out?” asked one, amusement obvious in his tone.
“I’m no ‘sir’. Vylids are ‘sir’. I’m Ray.”
The boy nodded acknowledgement. “I’m Wynn.”
The steam-runner pulled away from the dock and immediately began putting on speed seaward. The upper domes of the Buol cities were already visible, rising out of the fog.
“What do you think they’re like?”
"The man laughed. “Does it matter? You’ll never meet one. You’d drown trying. Just work hard, don’t get noticed.”
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