Player’s hand tightened on the strap of his crossbow, but whatever injured pride he might have suffered was evidently outweighed either by good sense or basic cowardice. Inclining his head, he resumed walking. Pilgrim allowed him to draw level before he too moved on. Showing his back to a man he had just humbled was never a sound idea.

The sun had begun to dip by the time Chena heard the first whisper, letting out a thin yowl of distress as she moved to Seeker’s side. The company came to a halt as it reached human ears. It was little more than a murmur on the wind, lacking words, at least words they could comprehend, but unmistakably a voice.

Scanning the ash, Pilgrim saw nothing beyond displaced dust drifting across the dunes. None spoke as the whisper continued, rising in volume, the words still formless but now possessed of a questioning inflection.

“We may as well rest now,” Priest said, sloughing off his pack. “Sleep as best you can before darkness.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to push on?” Book asked. “You said we should spend as little time here as possible.”

“Until they find you.” Priest undid the straps on his pack to extract a bedroll. “After that, it is simply a matter of enduring their attentions until daylight.” Unfurling the bedroll on the ash he gathered his cloak around him and lay down. “You really should try to sleep,” he added before closing his eyes.

The rest of them exchanged glances for a short time, the whisper and its question lingering in their ears. “I doubt I could sleep if I wanted to,” Book said. “And shouldn’t someone keep watch?”

“Only the dead persist here,” Maisha said, the first words she or her husband had spoken since the trek began. “And their power is limited only to what you give them.” She too opened her pack, extracting a flask which she sipped from before handing it to her husband. “A sleeping draught,” she said. “Just one small sip will see you to slumber until morning, and deafen you to the voices of the dead.”

Kusiph duly took a sip and handed the flask to Seeker who stared at it in reluctance before sighing and holding it out to Chena. The beast sniffed the flask and shrank back a little, but shuffled closer when Seeker stepped closer, extending the flask with insistent authority. Chena opened her mouth and Seeker allowed several drops of the draught to fall onto her tongue before taking a sip herself. Book proved less reluctant, holding the flask to his mouth for a decent sized swallow until Maisha snapped a warning and took it from him, handing it to Player. The Atherian turned away from them to lift his mask before drinking after which he fixed it firmly back in place and proffered the flask to Pilgrim. He glanced at it briefly before shaking his head.

“The whispers…” Maisha began.