I fight back a choking gurgle and roll to my side to let crimson spittle spill over the frozen Dirge ground. The "messenger" is gone so I allow myself a stained smile. The simple shrew amulet tossed against my bleeding chest falls to the ground as I work to stand. At least they hit me after I met with the military advisor.

It's dangerous to laugh when you’re on your back with a mouthful of blood. And nemoih and plovik have a particularly nasty taste when mixed with dirt and ice.

<<Yes, I made a deal a very, very long time ago. No, I had no intention of keeping it.>>

A familiar voice sounds in my mind. The lectures never end.

<<Reckless. Foolish. You learn nothing!>>

Maybe not. I’ve made many allies and many enemies in my time, but I expected to have been better situated to deal with the Children by now. If this is even them. If they still exist. Yes, I was warned. So many times.

<<Karosti manipulates you, Traim.>>

“You were right! Is that what you want to hear?” The snarl in my own scream sounds muted. The familiar feeling of a cracked skull. Still, it's much better than it would have been without Magavyn’s herbal alchemy.

“Not looking good there, mage,” comes an amused voice from the shadows. “Yelling at ghosts. Getting your head half-caved in by bush-mage with a shrew mace.” The young human voice makes a clicking sound from the shadows but I can hear his smirk. “Not sure this is what I signed up for.”

“You signed up for the coin. You wanted a few more baubles for your extra wives in Ker’leor,” I answer through cracked teeth, flicking spittle across the tokka card in my hand. The inverted Viper looks purple against the night’s stare from Yavash and Xibar. I slip the card back into the deck.

“No need for a letter to the north now. The advisor knows. I told him what I know. I trust him.”

“And the bush-mages?” he asks.

<<Bush-mages? Hardly.>>

“You won’t find the Children, no one ever can. I don’t know that it’s even them. Just watch your king. There’s potential there.”

“Potential?” The shadow chuckles with a confidence he hasn’t earned. “If that’s all you call it then you don’t know a thing about King Talorc. Not if you think you can make a deal.”

“It’s not my deal.” The deck in my tokka case screams for attention, ice against my left palm. I slide the deck into the night air and split two cards from the middle, feeling them burn against my fingertips.

<<Lion. Keep. Of course.>>

“If you say so,” the shadow answers. “But you should warn them. The Viper King is better left alone. He was studying the Standing Stones and dancing with demons long before you were born. Before this orc chieftain concern of yours was a fleck of drool on his father’s warty lips. Be careful what you ask for.”

I hear him crack his knuckles, hands away from his weapons. A youthful mistake. “And why seek out the Viper King when you can’t even handle the old mages with the shrews?”

Maybe it was just the sneer in his tone that made me snap. Or maybe it was the youthful arrogance that reminded me of myself. It could have been his confidence that Talorc and the Children had no connections. The reasons don’t really matter, the outcome was the same. I remember my hand on his throat followed moments later by the soft pulpy-crackling sound of him going to meet whatever god would return him to this Plane to make more mistakes. Just as mine always does.

<<The stars show us Entropy’s path. The light dims everywhere. The Inquisition flickers like a candle in a storm. My Ferdahl stands silent as the rot grows and demons of all kinds step into the vacuum. Vorclaf’s blood remains in effective exile it seems. The light needs help from the shadows, but the north stands alone. Talorc could be a more active ally. Is he worth pursuing? Or is that inviting another wolf to the slaughter?>>

“My price has tripled.”

This one annoys me even as a ghost.

“Just keep an eye on Ker’leor, alright?” I roll my shoulders before focusing on my gweth.

<<Any clerics around Crossing?>>


Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the
other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice. —Inferno