He poured all his pain into the void of the violin and gently worked it out, turned it to beauty.

Sometimes we got to look in the dark to see how bright’s the dawn.

Le Havre-de-Grâce lay cornered by the Atlantic and the river Seine. A humble city, low and flat, and unremarkable save for its cathedral; its minaret overlooked the port like an artificial moon scaffolded into the sky.

Though Fin couldn’t see it, she felt the closeness of land around her. From beyond the grey veil she could sense the oppressive weight of two great continents crowding down to the sea, each to kneel and contemplate the nearness of an ancient earthen brother.

Don’t seem right, do it?” said Topper. “It ain’t right,” replied Fin. “Not at all.” Jack guzzled his wine and wiped at his beard. “Mayhap it’s right and we can’t see it...” Topper scratched his bald head and hummed in thought. “Still don’t seem right,” he proclaimed when he’d hummed enough. Jack dropped his flagon to the deck and it rolled away clattering. “Yeah, well, what seems ain’t always what is.

He stared at her hard and long, as if he were gauging a cloudbank that might be worth the trouble to sail around rather than through.

The man held himself still and turned his milk-flooded eyes on her. Fin felt something like vertigo and knew that, though blind, he was seeing. He wasn’t looking at her or past her. He was looking into her. And what he saw, he judged. “Is very good.

These times of war and ruin will pass, and by love, you will be renewed and all terrible things shall be undone. Do you hear me, Fin Button?” Jeannot pushed the hair from her face and though shaking yet, Fin nodded. “In the name of God I drew you from the water, and in his name shall you be delivered home.

Then she took up the bow and began to play. The tone was warm and deep, storied with layers of age.

Most often, their association was one of silence, but that is a thing of uncommon worth when partaken of in the ease of another.