Gregory Tyne watched as the island approached with something that was either dread or longing in his heart.
"So, Gentleman," said Mosca cheerfully, "back to the homeland, eh?" Gregory gave a wordless nod. "Bet you never saw this happening, eh?"
"Not in a hundred years," said Gregory at last. "Left in a bit of a hassle. Problems with the law. Never expected to go back."
"I've been there,"said Mosca. "Rest assured, folks move on. When I first left Sericana, I knew I could never return. When I went back three years later--most folks had forgotten I even existed." He shrugged. "It'll be the same here."
Gregory thought of Gwen for a moment, and fell a dull ache in his heart at that idea. "There are many islands in Tintagel," he noted. "Hundreds, really. Most aren't very large, of course, but... you'd be surprised how many people can live on them." He coughed. "Well, some of them. Others... are just sheep tracks, really..."
Mosca gave a laugh. "That's the thought, Gentleman. Yes, you're going home, but... not home. If you understand my meaning." Gregory nodded again. "Well, glad I've cheered you. Ben says we make landfall in two hours." Gregory gave another nod as Mosca walked away, whistling to himself.
It occurred to Gregory that Mosca would have no way of knowing that that was his home they were approaching now, to land there in two hours. That as improbable as it might sound his travels with the Scarlet Shrikes had brought him back to very place he was born. He considered mentioning it, but decided against it.
After all, did it really matter? Really?
Gregory sighed to himself, as he realized the answer was 'yes'. But only to him.