over the edges. The bodies made thick, wet sounds as they hit the mud.
Thud.
“Burying the dead,” murmured Koszmar.
Thud.
“Lonely way to go,” observed Lukasz. He tried not to consider the possibility that more likely than not, at least a few of his brothers had gone in lonelier ways.
Thud.
The gravedigger with the rifle took it off his shoulder and held it ready. One of the men jumped into the grave. He raised the shovel and brought it down, hard.
Lukasz jumped back from the fence. The second man climbed down into the second grave. Brought his shovel down, hard.
“What the hell—?”
“They were killed by strzygi,” explained Koszmar in a calm voice. “A villager found them buried in the woods today—only they hadn’t been dealt with correctly. So they brought them back here to do the thing right. Strzygi victims need to be buried facedown and beheaded. Otherwise they could turn into a strzygoń.”
“Who says?” asked Lukasz.
He’d heard of strzygi, but he’d never seen one up close. Dragons were more his wheelhouse.
“Superstition?” Koszmar shrugged. “You’d have to ask that writer on the edge of town. Nasty face. Looks like a regular gargulec,” he added, without sympathy.
One of the men climbed into the third grave and, lifting the shovel high, severed the head of the last body.
“The poor bastards put up a good fight, though,” said Koszmar. Thoughtfully, he ran his fingers through the vila hair where it shimmered on his shoulder. “There were over a dozen dead strzygi in that clearing. Quite impressive, really.”
Briefly, Lukasz wondered what took a man like this from Miasto, dragged him here, to the edge of the world. To stare into graves, lean on fences, and make conversation with dying breeds.
Lukasz’s voice came out rougher than he intended. “You called him a gargulec—”
“Oh.” Koszmar raised his hands to the darkening sky. His tone did not alter from its soft, controlled elegance. “Rybak, I think? Jakub Rybak? Fancies himself an Unnaturalist, or something of that kind. He lives in one of the ruins on the edge— Hey!”
Koszmar broke off as Lukasz lurched back from the fence. Jakub Rybak. That name . . . a name six years old, left in a different lifetime, learned in a dark cellar, Lukasz and Henryk crouched in the darkness, a notebook changing hands . . .
Lukasz’s burned hand closed on Koszmar’s arm, and the elegant Wrony recoiled.
“What—?”
“Take me to him,” growled Lukasz.
The girls by the fountain watched them. The men burying the strzygi victims looked up warily, the one hefting his rifle. Lukasz ignored them all. He had eyes only for Koszmar Styczeń, for that wily curve to his mouth, for the sly spark in his eyes. But even caught in the grip of the wolf, Koszmar did not cower.
“Take me to him,” said Lukasz hoarsely. “Take me to him now.”
“Take me to the Dragon,” countered Koszmar in a silky voice.
Lukasz shook him hard, once, shoving him back. Koszmar hit the rails of the fence and grinned. Realizing too late what he was doing, Lukasz stumbled back, catching his breath.
Unruffled, Koszmar readjusted his helmet and straightened his cuffs. Lukasz wondered if he was used to people losing their temper with him.
“All right, all right,” Koszmar said, smirking as he righted his helmet. “Get your horse. I’ll take you to your gargulec.”
7
LUKASZ WAS SO PREOCCUPIED THAT he didn’t notice the girl.
It came as no surprise to her, for in her eighteen years, she had rarely been noticed. After all, she looked like everyone else: faded, tired, hollowed out, and with just a little bitterness in how her mouth always tended to frown. Of the red-booted girls in the square, she was the only one who had not been smoking.
He and the blond soldier came and took the black horse away. They were so absorbed in their task that they didn’t notice that she’d given the horse the only food she had. They didn’t notice her fade back into the gray, all dull skin and dull hair and—yet—the most spectacular pair of eyes in the village.
Why should they notice her? No one else did.
So of course they didn’t notice her following them.
8
REN APPROACHED THE VILLAGE LIKE any animal would: with caution.
She’d insisted on coming alone. Czarn and Ry? were tough, but Ren couldn’t risk it. After what had happened to Czarn, she didn’t want anyone else getting hurt. Besides, she was the queen. This was her battle. Better to fight it alone.