She watched as he removed a sackcloth from the pack, then made his way down onto the sand. ‘Watch those claws,’ she said to him. ‘Wouldn’t want to lose a finger, would we?’

The ex-priest laughed, continuing on. She could see him only because of his clothes. His skin was now completely black, the traceries barely detectable even up close and in daylight. The visible changes were matched by other, more subtle ones.

‘You can’t hurt him any more,’ Baudin said from where he crouched over the other backpack. ‘No matter what you say.’

‘Then I’ve no reason to stay quiet,’ she replied.

They had water to last another day, maybe two. The clouds over the straits promised rain, but Felisin knew every promise was a lie – salvation was for others. She looked around again. This is where our bones will rest, humps and ripples in the sand. Then, one day, even those signs will be gone. We’ve reached the shore, where Hood awaits and no-one else. A journey of the spirit as much as of the flesh. I welcome the end to both.

Baudin had pitched the tents and was now collecting wood for a fire. Heboric returned with the sackcloth gripped between his stumps. The tips of claws showed through the bag’s loose weave. ‘These will either kill us or make us very thirsty – I’m not sure which will be worse.’

The last fresh water was eleven hours behind them, a damp patch in a shallow basin. They’d had to dig down an arm-span to find it, and it had proved brackish, tasting of iron and difficult to keep down. ‘Do you truly believe Duiker’s still out there, sailing back and forth for – what, five days now?’

Heboric squatted, setting the sack down. ‘He’s not published anything in years – what else would he have to do with all his time?’

‘Do you think frivolity is the proper way to meet Hood?’

‘I didn’t know there was a proper way, lass. Even if I was certain death was coming – which I’m not, at least in the immediate future – well, each of us has to answer it in our own way. After all, even the priests of Hood argue over the preferred manner in which to finally face their god.’

‘If I’d known a lecture was coming, I’d have kept my mouth shut.’

‘Coming to terms with life as an adolescent, are you?’

Her scowl made him laugh in delight.

Heboric’s favourite jokes are the unintended ones. Mockery is just hate’s patina, and every laugh is vicious. She didn’t have the strength to continue riposting. The last laugh won’t be yours, Heboric. You’ll discover that soon enough. You and Baudin both.