his end of the deal? Does Miron have that sort of sway over him? Does Miron even care?
And what of the demons? Do so many of them just let their precious book escape without a fight? If not their book, will one of them come back for their head? I’m not stupid. I know they haven’t just rolled their shoulders, given up and gone back to hell for tea and toast. But will they at least stay in the shadows until we can reach dry land?
On a deeper level, should I even give this tome to Miron? Does any one man have the right to carry such a thing?
I don’t have the answers. Really, I don’t care. Someone else can worry about them on their time. My time is worth exactly one thousand pieces of gold. Past that, I don’t really mind what the demons, longfaces or beasts of the world do. The world will continue without the actions of adventurers, long after the profession has died out.
My companions are solemn as we set out for Teji, untalkative, not even mustering the will to fight with each other, for once. At the moment, our humble little vessel resembles something of a flower with half its petals missing. Each of us stares over the edge into the water, watching ourselves, not even aware of the people next to us.
I should be pleased, I know. After so long spent in prayer, the Gods have answered me and finally taken their tongues. But now . . . I want them to talk. I want to hear a distraction, another noise, if only to divert me from the other ones.
The voice . . . is not gone. I know because it murmurs to me, still, in the time between my breaths. But it is quieted, put down slightly. I don’t know why and, again, I don’t care, so long as it’s quiet again.
Another few days until we reach Teji. A haven, supposedly, friendly to us, our kind. Is that true? I’m not too sure, really. Argaol doesn’t really seem the type to make himself useful to us, in any way possible. But I can deal with that when I come to it.
Kataria just looked up at me. She seems to be doing that a lot tonight. I try to smile at her . . . no, I want to smile at her, but she doesn’t make it easy. But it’s not because of all those questions, oh no. The demons, longfaces, Argaols, Mirons, Deepshrieks, Xhais and tomes of the world can all go burn.
I’ve got bigger problems.
Epilogue
TEARS IN SHADOW
The silhouettes moved viciously against the cavern wall. There was no grace in them, nor gentleness as they twisted against each other. Between the snarls and cries emerging from the back of the cavern, the shadows found individual shapes. A man, tall and lean with long flowing hair. A woman, her curves indistinct as they quivered against the man’s movement.
Greenhair could not see the smile on the man’s face, nor the tears on the woman’s cheeks. But she heard his teeth grinding, her liquid pooling upon the floor in quiet splashes. It was the only noise she allowed herself.
And the siren cringed, the only one to hear them.
‘Cahulus is dead,’ one of them said at the fore of the cavern. ‘Over twelve of the warriors were lost in the battle. That’s nearly half of the force we sent.’
‘Nearly is not all. Nearly is not even half,’ a second, snider voice retorted. ‘We still emerged victorious, with the underscum cleared out.’ A thin body settled into a large chair. ‘Besides, Cahulus was an idiot.’
There was a terse silence before the other voice spoke. ‘He was your brother.’
Greenhair looked to the pair of longfaces seated before her. Clad in flowing robes of violet and red, respectively, they narrowed white eyes at each other from their black wooden thrones. A great, ebon mass separated them, obscured by shadows cast from torchlight.
This was once a sacred place, Greenhair remembered, a place of devotion to the Sea Mother. The holy writ upon the walls had been seared away by fire. The relics and offerings lay shattered upon the floor. The worshippers . . .
A scream burst from the cavern’s mouth, cut short by the crack of a whip and a snarling command. She was the only one to hear it echo on the stone.
‘Our brother,’ the longface on the right continued, heedless. This one was short and thin, his head swivelling