And came to retching, with them dragging him through grass. They had been joined by more soldiers.

“Walk!”

They pulled him past a pile of clothing discarded on the ground, only there was a man still in that clothing, a face staring up at the sky and mist rising out of the nostrils in a roil of confusion.

“Why will folk never listen to me when I try to warn them? Heya! Shai!” Edard’s ghost writhed toward him, mouth widening in an exaggerated grimace. “Did I tell you my clan’s password to make contact in Toskala? Someone needs to know. ‘Splendid silk slippers,’ like in the tale. Same as our badge.”

Shai had never been so afraid in his life, to see a ghost calling his name as its cloudy essence chased after him.

But of course, no one else could see. They just thought he was struggling to get free.

“No fighting, or I’ll let Twist cook and eat your balls after he’s cut them off.”

“Don’t want to eat them,” said Twist, to the laughter of the others. “Want to make him eat them raw.”

They chortled. Dizzied, Shai blinked as Edard’s ghost hazed his vision.

“One moment I was walking down to find where Eridit had gone, and the next . . . Eiya! Am I dead?”

The ghost seemed less angry than puzzled as the gang of men marched through him. He drifted toward a ridge of rock adorned with curtains of orange-flowering vegetation. The way the vegetation fell down the crag made it seem there was rock all the way down, the crevice itself easily missed, unless you knew it was there because a young woman had recently dragged you in there and done what she wanted, not that he hadn’t wanted it just as much.

“Aui!” said the ghost. “There Eridit is! Safe, at least.”

Shai saw her eyes, a patchwork face behind orange flowers. As she saw him see her, fear made her face ghastly. Fear for him? Or for herself?

He stumbled purposefully, drawing their attention, and surged up so they crowded in to pressure him forward, weapons bristling like so many iron thorns ready to impale. They didn’t examine the nearby rocks.

Edard’s ghost had vanished.

And Shai was their living prisoner.

PART SIX: DEMONS

37

DEATH RODE AT twilight into High Haldia. Or so, Marit imagined, the tales might sing.

The broad avenue that bisected the city lay empty except for a scrap of cloth rippling along the paving stones, blown by a wind out of the north. Normally, she supposed this thoroughfare would be lit with lanterns, folk grabbing noodles or the savory buns common to Haldia for a quick bite while rushing about their last errands of the day. Apprentices released from their duties might be found traveling in packs for a night of carousing, or a shopkeeper seen sweeping her entry porch as she closed up for the night. Now, many buildings gaped as half-burned shells, roofs fallen in and broken tiles scattered. The intact shopfronts were shuttered, as closed up as a rich clan rejecting the marriage suit of a poor but ambitious neighbor.