Marlowe: “There is a tide that moves the ships of men
which taken at the ebb leads to disaster:
a hull upon the rocks… or derelict,
adrift, cut loose from cable’s hold secure
upon the anchor of life’s verities.”

He said to Sir Hyphen-Dash, who was still fulminating. “It was not the Spaniard.”

“If not them who! SPANIARDS! Can’t trust ‘em!” And there was much brandishing.

Marlowe turned to face Athis and the Fae delegation. “It was my love, Drunais.”

“What! One of THEM! I knew they were in league! You know what this means?”

Marlowe shook his head even as he spoke the answer. “War.”