‘Stones below, my feet are raw.’ He looks up. ‘I did mention that right? Shroud and Ship. Both. In Hesper. With Fallon. Who nearly killed me.’
Crowkisser watches his worried face, its clean, dark lines. She smiles again. ‘Yes, you did. But they won’t stay there.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘They’re therenow. Am I making sense?’ He holds his hands out.
‘Kiss, we finally,finallyknow where they are. We drew them out.’ He rubs at his jaw. ‘Not without some cost, at that. They hit hard.’
She glances across. ‘I noticed that. I’m glad you’re OK. But like I said, they’re not staying. They’re going to push north to where my father can work some meaningful magic. They need the dead. They need Thell.’
He scratches at his chin. ‘You’re sure of it?’
She nods curtly, crushing some herbs into her cup.
He watches them settle on the surface.
‘How are the shakes?’
She sips, grimaces. ‘Fine.’
He tilts his head. ‘Seriously, Kiss? You can do better.’
She sips again, holding his gaze. ‘They’re fine.’
He shrugs out of his jacket. ‘OK, I’ll buy it. And the voices?’
She waves her fingers. ‘Fine too. I’m just tired.’
He nods slowly, wearily, and starts working at the bones of his left hand with the fingers of his right. ‘I’m not an idiot, Kisser. You’re not as a good a liar as you think you are.’
She drains the cup. ‘I’m as fine as I need to be, Slick. Don’t make me explain it. You don’t know the first thing about prophecy.’
He feels a surge of irritation. Bites his tongue. ‘Obviously, or I wouldn’t be out there risking my skin to find out something you’d apparently already heard.’ He pauses, glances at the scurrying, squawking roof. ‘From thebirds.’
‘You were never in any danger,’ she says. ‘The shadow protects you.’
He grits his teeth. ‘In danger, Kiss? I was inpieces.’ He wiggles his jaw experimentally. ‘I can still feel it grinding.’
She steps closer, plants a foot either side of his thighs. Takes his chin, turns it. ‘No permanent damage. Don’t worry. I won’t allow it. The shadow doesn’t permit it.’
He bats her hand away. ‘Do you ever think that maybe you don’t know everything?’
She looks at him, baffled expressions flitting across her face. Confusion, then fury.
Slickwalker stands. ‘Of course not. My mistake.’ He glances up at the ceiling, at the twisted ropes, the charms, the rotten meat and bone. The ceaseless shuffle of the crows. ‘This place is starting to stink.’
The shadows begin to tear at him as he walks away.
He half turns to look at her. The faintest shake in his voice.
‘Tell me next time, Kisser.’
She watches his face and steps forwards, catching his wrist before it fades totally into the dark. Marvels again at the feel of the shadow on his skin, like silk, or driest snake-skin.
When she pulls him close he resists only a little. She runs a finger along his side, draws him in, guides him back to the chair.
Pushing him gently down she frowns, just enough for effect. ‘Slick, the prophecies only show one pattern. The birds only see what birds see. It all needs corroborating.’
She turns back to the kettle, returning it to the flame and begins ordering cups, jars, herbs, everything back to its place. ‘I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I only acted on my own hunches. The more patterns I can see, the more eyes I have, the smarter I’ll be.’
