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The monk handed the lantern over and looked at the rest of them. “A stray spark could light you up instead.” “Starting to run low on these,” he said, opening it and reaching for the tinder kit. The monk took another lantern out of Mauvin’s pack. “ ‘More valuable than gold, more precious than life, is mercy bestowed upon he who hast not known its soft kiss’-Girard Hily, Proverbs of the Soul.” A silence passed then Myron folded Thranic’s hands over his chest and stood up. Myron ignored Gaunt and remained beside Thranic, his head bowed, his eyes closed. Are you so ignorant that you don’t see that?”

He took a moment to close Thranic’s eyes, and taking the sentinel’s hand, he bowed his head and softly sang: Unto Maribor, I beseech thee Into the hands of god, I send thee Grant him peace, I beg thee Give him rest, I ask thee May the god of men watch over your journey. He walked to the sentinel’s side and knelt down.

Mauvin let go of his sword and sat back down. Blood dripped from a thin red line at the neck. Royce was sitting in a different place than he had been before the fire. “I only extinguished the flames,” Arista told them. Thranic’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but he was not breathing. He slouched backward, resting against the wall in an odd twisted position. “You could have killed him! You could have killed all of us!”Įven Gaunt was on his feet, but Thranic took no notice. “You bastard!” Mauvin shouted at Thranic, getting to his feet and reaching for his sword. The monk nodded as he sat wiping the oil from his face. The pulsating light shining up from underneath lent her a fearful image. Her robe began to glow, revealing the room in a cold bluish radiance. “That wasn’t very nice,” Arista said in the dark. With an audible crack, the room went black. Fire blazed over the scrolls and raced up Myron’s legs, chest, and face. Flames rushed forth, low blue tongues licking along the glistening oil pool. Splashed across the parchments, across the floor, across Myron.