Sa-at was quiet for a long time. He believed Rochant and this made him nervous. If there is a fight and all the demons are with the Corpseman, is Murderkind on the other side? Murderkind said the Red Brothers are with the Corpseman and the Red Brothers are my enemy. Does that mean the Corpesman is my enemy? Murderkind is my friend and Rochant is my friend. The Corpseman is my enemy and Rochant is the Corpseman’s friend. So is Rochant my enemy or my friend? The thoughts swirled round inside, confusing and sad. He did not want any more fighting. He did not want to have to pick between one friend and another, any more than he wanted his friends to fight over him.

And Tal has still not come back!

‘Rochant?’

‘Yes?’

‘What did the Corpseman agree to do for you in return?’

‘That is an excellent question. However it is one not covered in our deal.’

‘But it was a deal with the Corpseman, and –’ Sa-at tried to put the shape he had in his head into words ‘– it will help me to understand it better, so it is part of our deal.’

‘Admirable logic. I will reward you with this much: it agreed to help me realize my dream, and become more than I was. It also agreed not to harm me or those I love. There is more, but I won’t be pushed into revealing it. Perhaps, if you come with me, I’ll tell you one day over a glass of good wine.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Yes,’ replied Rochant. ‘I rather think you would.’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Satyendra remained aloof through the celebrations, nodding his way through course after course. Tender meat that fell from the bone, vegetable sticks with just a hint of firmness, sliced fruits on baked biscuits; none of it registered on his tongue. He only sipped at his drink, not daring to let his guard down. Every moment he expected the Deathless to catch on to him. After all, they had lifetimes of shared experience he knew nothing about. It would only take one question or one mishandled reference, and then they would know. There was no precedent for a crime such as his, which meant the punishment would likely be long, painful and involved. Perfect for a Story-singer to dramatize.

It made him wonder though. What if there was precedent? What if others had tricked the Bringers before him? What if the whole thing was a sham, and all of the Deathless were just terrified vessels, pretending to be immortal. He snorted at the thought and then discarded it. The others weren’t like him. Their armour accepted them. They fitted in. They belonged.

I never will.