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“Well I certainly am.” Lonan grinned over at me. “Many different kinds.”
“You might want to get the rest of your angry spewing out now,” I told Cethlen. “You probably shouldn’t talk like that to your new companion.”
“Companion?” Cethlen snapped, just as the mist started to envelope us, stinking of sulphur. “What are you…”
He coughed and trailed off as we emerged into the familiar clearing, with its white question mark trees and pale grass and ancient ramshackle hut in the centre.
“Where are we?” Cethlen asked faintly. “It smells strange here. And it’s… silent.”
“Yes,” Lonan said with faux sympathy. “No conversations for you to eavesdrop on in this place. No secrets to overhear.” He paused, cocking his head. “You’re breathing rather fast, Cethlen. Are you injured? Perhaps from your little attempt to escape?”
“So you’re leaving me here alone?” he spat, vibrating with tension between us.
“Not alone.” Lonan urged him towards the hut. He raised his voice to call, “I’m here to fulfil my end of our bargain.”
“I see that, Death King.” Ogma’s raspy voice rang out from the hut, her enormous eye peering at us through the opening and darting madly over Cethlen. “We finally meet, Cethleann-Enith de Cailleach.”
Cethlen froze. “Wh-who is that? How do you know my name?”
“I know all names.” She chuckled, pressing her eye closer to look at me and Lonan. “It’s good to see you both again. It’s rare that I get to meet anyone twice.”
“Hi, Ogma,” I said cheerfully, giving her a little wave.
“Ogma?” Cethlen whispered beside me.
“So then.” Lonan pushed him closer to the hut. “Do you deem him a suitable companion?”
“The Carlin’s ears? Oh yes, I think he will do nicely. An excellent listener, are you not?” She gazed at him with her eerie, whale-like eye. “I have much to say and no one to say it to.”
“What’s going on?” Cethlen cried in panic, struggling against his binds.
“You’re going to stay here with Ogma,” Lonan told him patiently. “Forever.”
“W-why?”
“Because I made a bargain and I intend to fulfil my end of it. And really, Cethlen”—he crossed his arms—“did you honestly expect me to just let you live at the palace? Did you really think you’d never face the consequences of everything you’ve done?”
“I mean, you’re kind of getting the best deal here,” I piped up. “You’re not dead like Balor. You’re not alone forever like Bres. And Ogma’s cool.”
She peered at me. “I assure you, Hunter King, my hut is a very pleasant temperature.”
“I mean, like, you’re nice.” I shrugged. “If I’d been a total piece of shit for my entire life and this was my comeuppance, I’d be pretty happy about it, to be honest. I bet you have good stories.”
Wheezy laughter came from within the hut as Ogma’s huge eye crinkled at the corner. “Piece of shit. I like that phrase. Come on, piece of shit,” she added to Cethlen cheerfully. “Into the hut for the rest of your days.”
“N-no,” he whispered in horror, trying to take a step back until Lonan stopped him. “Lonan, why can you not see that I would be an asset to you? Surely you know I would be loyal?”
Lonan snorted. “You turned on Balor and Bres the moment you found out I was king.”
“But I was loyal to Mother until the very end!”
“Being loyal to the Carlin is not the selling point you think it is,” I deadpanned, which made Lonan chuckle.
“Come on, brother.” He gripped Cethlen’s shoulder and steered him towards the hut door. “In you go.”
“You cannot make me.” Cethlen gritted his teeth, trying to dig his heels into the grass.
“Cethleann-Enith de Cailleach,” Ogma said sternly. “Stop throwing a tantrum and get in this hut. You won’t be leaving it again.”
