is it, sire?”
“Do you not recognize it?”
Gruum blinked, and watched as the last of it moved under Therian’s bed and vanished completely. He could feel the presence of it, as if it watched him.
“It is the substance we left upon the roadway, is it not?” Gruum asked.
“Yes. It is Humusi’s bile.”
“Perhaps we should put it back in the pouch from which it came.”
“Be my guest.”
Gruum thought about it, and soon came up with a plan. He made no attempt to capture the gelatinous shadow nor to speak with it. Instead, he took the pouch, opened it, and tossed it upon the floor near Therian’s bed. He hoped if it had returned to them looking for solace, it would find further comfort in the depths of the pouch. Never once did he set a foot upon the cold flagstones.
“Will it slay us as we sleep?” Gruum asked.
“I think not. I think it was lost when we left, and it has followed us here. We are all that it knows.”
Gruum shuddered in his bed. He lay there, desperately tired, but could not sleep for another moment.
Later, when dawn was full-fledged, the breakfast bell rang in the Duke’s Great Hall. When Gruum arose, he checked every inch of the floor before setting a foot upon it. He inspected the interior of his boots with the intensity of a Kem taxmaster before daring to slide his toes inside. There was no sign of the shadowy puddle, but the pouch he had cast upon the floor did seem to bulge somewhat. Gruum avoided it carefully.
Therian was escorted to the head table, where he sat beside the Duke’s tall, empty chair. The Duke himself was absent. Gruum sat at the lower table, with the servants and guardsmen. Gruum watched carefully to see if Vosh would show himself, but he did not.
The food was excellent. There were fresh eggs, whipped and cooked in a mass within an iron kettle. The eggs were topped with glistening melted cream. Hot loaves of bread were served to everyone, which they used to scoop out the eggs and cream. Snow was melted over the fire in another kettle. Leaves were crumbled into the boiling water and strained out. The amber liquid that resulted was ladled out for drinking into dozens of stone mugs. Gruum sipped his and found the concoction flavorful. It filled him with warmth.
Gruum ate his fill and watched everyone. They in turn seemed to be watching him. There was little conversation and voices were muted when people did speak. The greatest surprise of the morning occurred when a new figure stepped out of the shadowy halls from the northern wing of the lodge. Light of step, but obviously weary, this new diner came late to breakfast and sat at the lower table across from Gruum. None there scolded her for her tardiness.
Gruum dipped his head and craned his neck, trying to get a look at the face beneath the drawn hood.
Finally, she turned to him. “What is it, sir?”
“I—” began Gruum, but stopped. He recognized her face, but in his shock he knew not what to say. “It’s nothing, Miss.”
How was he to speak to her? How was he to tell her that only one night before, she was as good as dead, and he had borne her at risk of his own life to this place? What had Vosh done to revive her, to bring her to this table as if she had not been at death’s gate hours earlier? He was haunted by the idea that he might have damned her soul in his attempts to save her, rather than allowing her a clean escape into death. Maybe, he thought, he had damned them all.
-12-
After breakfast, the chamberlain approached Therian and Gruum. It was the same man who had opened the portal for them last midnight. He invited them to join the retainers for a hunt.
“A hunt?” Gruum asked. “But the storm has only just passed.”
“Fresh game will be out and hungry after such a blizzard,” the chamberlain said.
“You are dedicated sportsmen to want to go out in waist-high drifts,” Gruum said.
The chamberlain sniffed. “We hunt every day while we lodge here. It is the purpose of this
“Do you not recognize it?”
Gruum blinked, and watched as the last of it moved under Therian’s bed and vanished completely. He could feel the presence of it, as if it watched him.
“It is the substance we left upon the roadway, is it not?” Gruum asked.
“Yes. It is Humusi’s bile.”
“Perhaps we should put it back in the pouch from which it came.”
“Be my guest.”
Gruum thought about it, and soon came up with a plan. He made no attempt to capture the gelatinous shadow nor to speak with it. Instead, he took the pouch, opened it, and tossed it upon the floor near Therian’s bed. He hoped if it had returned to them looking for solace, it would find further comfort in the depths of the pouch. Never once did he set a foot upon the cold flagstones.
“Will it slay us as we sleep?” Gruum asked.
“I think not. I think it was lost when we left, and it has followed us here. We are all that it knows.”
Gruum shuddered in his bed. He lay there, desperately tired, but could not sleep for another moment.
Later, when dawn was full-fledged, the breakfast bell rang in the Duke’s Great Hall. When Gruum arose, he checked every inch of the floor before setting a foot upon it. He inspected the interior of his boots with the intensity of a Kem taxmaster before daring to slide his toes inside. There was no sign of the shadowy puddle, but the pouch he had cast upon the floor did seem to bulge somewhat. Gruum avoided it carefully.
Therian was escorted to the head table, where he sat beside the Duke’s tall, empty chair. The Duke himself was absent. Gruum sat at the lower table, with the servants and guardsmen. Gruum watched carefully to see if Vosh would show himself, but he did not.
The food was excellent. There were fresh eggs, whipped and cooked in a mass within an iron kettle. The eggs were topped with glistening melted cream. Hot loaves of bread were served to everyone, which they used to scoop out the eggs and cream. Snow was melted over the fire in another kettle. Leaves were crumbled into the boiling water and strained out. The amber liquid that resulted was ladled out for drinking into dozens of stone mugs. Gruum sipped his and found the concoction flavorful. It filled him with warmth.
Gruum ate his fill and watched everyone. They in turn seemed to be watching him. There was little conversation and voices were muted when people did speak. The greatest surprise of the morning occurred when a new figure stepped out of the shadowy halls from the northern wing of the lodge. Light of step, but obviously weary, this new diner came late to breakfast and sat at the lower table across from Gruum. None there scolded her for her tardiness.
Gruum dipped his head and craned his neck, trying to get a look at the face beneath the drawn hood.
Finally, she turned to him. “What is it, sir?”
“I—” began Gruum, but stopped. He recognized her face, but in his shock he knew not what to say. “It’s nothing, Miss.”
How was he to speak to her? How was he to tell her that only one night before, she was as good as dead, and he had borne her at risk of his own life to this place? What had Vosh done to revive her, to bring her to this table as if she had not been at death’s gate hours earlier? He was haunted by the idea that he might have damned her soul in his attempts to save her, rather than allowing her a clean escape into death. Maybe, he thought, he had damned them all.
-12-
After breakfast, the chamberlain approached Therian and Gruum. It was the same man who had opened the portal for them last midnight. He invited them to join the retainers for a hunt.
“A hunt?” Gruum asked. “But the storm has only just passed.”
“Fresh game will be out and hungry after such a blizzard,” the chamberlain said.
“You are dedicated sportsmen to want to go out in waist-high drifts,” Gruum said.
The chamberlain sniffed. “We hunt every day while we lodge here. It is the purpose of this
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