"Ryan, wake up! Time to eat!" Matthew shouted as he entered the house carrying a tray of food.
Ryan had been asleep for three or four hours by now—long enough to rule out sudden death from exhaustion.
Looking groggy, he stumbled out of the guest room. "What time is it?"
"No idea. But I'd say it's been about three or four hours."
There was a clock on the Medusa Warship, but Hanno's house didn't have one, so Matthew could only make a rough guess.
"You woke me up after just three or four hours?" Ryan stared at Matthew in disbelief.
Was this guy really going to push him that hard?
"Three or four hours is plenty. You're not going to drop dead. As for sleep deprivation—catch up on the ship later."
As soon as Matthew mentioned returning to the ship, Ryan's expression sobered instantly.
He only let loose when there was nothing going on. But once something required his attention, he reverted to being the cool-headed, intimidating figure known as one of the four stewards.
"We're leaving today?"
"Not quite. Right after breakfast, actually."
Matthew calmly ate a spoonful of oatmeal.
They had already lingered here in this sea of mist for several days.
Blackshore Island was still a good distance away, and Matthew couldn't afford to waste more time.
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