The rapid winds and rising shrieks suddenly blended into a single harmonious tone. Lines in the rigging and the yards and the masts themselves quivered in time, and began giving off their own notes of music, in harmony with one another. As the speed increased, the chord rose and rose, and built and built, until it reached a crescendo of pure, eerie, inhuman fury.
“That you are young,” the cat said. “And less wise than one who is old. I am wiser than you, and I say you should go. It is obvious. You should trust a wiser head than your own.” “You aren’t any older than I am,” she countered. “I am cat,” Rowl said smugly, “which means I have made better use of my time.” “Oh, you’re impossible,” Bridget said. “Yes.
“I mean exactly the opposite of that. You can’t see the future, Miss Lancaster. You cannot be aware of all things at all times. In combat situations, your choices can be judged based only against what you knew at the time. To expect anything more of a soldier is to demand that he or she be superhuman. Which seems, to me, unreasonable.”