envenomed weapon long before you ever hacked at it.’ He flicked one of the more prominent tears in the creature’s flesh. ‘Have a glimpse. These wounds are fresh, even though the venom is old. You remember what happened when Mossud harpooned the thing, right?’
‘It healed instantly.’ Lenk nodded as he rubbed his shoulder in memory of the thrashing the creature had given him. ‘The damn thing didn’t even flinch.’
‘From your attacks, maybe,’ Gariath snorted.
‘So why haven’t these lacerations healed?’ Denaos winked knowingly. ‘The wounds were trying to close, but the poison kept them from doing so. Rather potent stuff, actually. I haven’t seen anything this vigorous before.’
‘These wounds, though, are tremendous.’ In emphasis, Lenk reached out and flicked an arrow shaft that Kataria had sent into the thing’s heart through a tear the size of two fists side by side. ‘I’ve seen some big swords in my time, but nothing so big as to make such a mess.’
‘The wounds didn’t start that way.’ Asper elbowed herself into the huddle, pointing to some of the larger rips. ‘See, the edges of the skin are frayed. The poison ate at the flesh, probably continued to do so up until the thing was dead.’ She raised her eyebrows in appreciation. ‘Not unlike a parasite.’
‘I remember.’ Lenk nodded. ‘The green stuff was pulsating. ’ He looked over his shoulder to Kataria. ‘You saw, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ She nodded weakly. ‘Like it was breathing.’
‘So,’ Denaos bit his lower lip, ‘these longfaces are in possession of a . . . living poison?’
‘And you wanted to kiss their rumps,’ Asper shot at him smugly. ‘Dip your lips in iron, you smelly little sycophant. ’
‘Well, if you’re such a genius,’ he snapped, ‘maybe you can tell us what did,’ he paused to gesture over the scorched beach, ‘this?’
‘Isn’t it clear?’ She paused, held up a hand in apology. ‘Pardon me. Isn’t it clear to everyone who isn’t a colossal moron?’ She nearly decapitated him with the sharpness of her smirk. ‘Think. What else do you know that can turn sand black and make ice that doesn’t melt in the sun?’
‘Magic,’ the rogue replied, ‘but—’
‘Precisely,’ she interrupted, ‘and who do we know who knows something about magic?’
‘Dreadaeleon,’ he answered, ‘however—’
‘See? Even you can solve these tricky little issues with the miracle of thinking.’ She rose, dusting her hands off with an air of self-satisfaction so thick as to choke even the smoke. She set hands on hips and glanced about the beach. ‘Now, if Dread would just come up and tell us a little bit about . . . uh . . .’
It occurred to her, at that moment, that they had mentioned the subject of magic and had been able to go three breaths without a familiarly shrill voice chiming in with some incessant trivia. She was not alone in her realisation, as Lenk nearly collapsed under the weight of his sigh.
‘Right, then,’ he muttered, ‘who lost the wizard?’
‘He was with the lizard last I saw,’ Denaos replied. ‘Maybe he stopped to sniff a tree or something.’
‘Where is he, then?’ Asper immediately turned a scowl upon the dragonman. ‘What’d you do with him?’
‘What makes you think I did something to him?’ Gariath replied, raising an eyeridge. ‘Isn’t it possible that he got lost on his own?’
‘Well . . .’ Her face screwed up momentarily. ‘I suppose that’s possible. I’m sorry.’ She sighed and offered him an apologetic smile. ‘So, where was he when you last saw him?’
‘Writhing on the ground and not breathing.’
‘Oh.’ She blinked. ‘Wait, what?’
‘I resent you assuming that I beat the stupid out of him until he was lying in a pool of it.’ He folded his arms over his chest. ‘But, as it stands, I did.’
Asper’s jaw dropped. Whether it was from the shock of the dragonman’s actions or the sheer casualness with which he reported them, all she could do was turn to Lenk with a look that demanded he do something.
The young man, however, merely blinked; he suspected he ought to do something about it, if he had been at all surprised that such a thing had happened. Instead, he sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose and cast a glance around his companions.
‘Well, you know the routine,’ he said. ‘Fan out, find him or his body and so forth and so on.’
‘Searching for someone we’re supposed to care about who was possibly murdered by someone else we’re supposed to care about is not supposed to be routine,’ Asper shrieked, stomping her foot.
‘And