“But it’s early yet!” said one of the Brass Tigers.
“Yes, come on, Etharion,” said another. “Vand and Gredchen will be returning soon from Willik. They say we have our first contract. You don’t want to miss out on that, do you?”
“You know I’m not really a very good cook,” the Journeyman said. “And besides, I’ve overstayed my welcome here in Nordmaar. Vand and Gredchen already know I’m leaving.”
“But no good-byes?” said the first Brass Tiger. “After all, you’re family, aren’t you?”
The Journeyman smiled. Vanderjack and Gredchen had taken the last name Cordaric, in honor of him, but passed him off as a cousin. Nobody knew their true identities. Vanderjack and Gredchen didn’t know his.
The others clasped hands with him and nodded; he felt a sudden pang of regret, a desire to stay there with his new family. But he had more places to go, things to chronicle.
It was a shame he couldn’t tell Stella when he returned that he had known her grandfather and grandmother. Nor, he thought, could he tell her he knew everything there was to know about being a ghost.
Next time, he thought as he let the door of the Monkey’s Ear close behind him, I would prefer to stay among the living. It was just easier that way.
On his way to the nearest out-of-the-way alley, he passed by the Temple of Branchala, with its familiar stone idol of a winged dragon-tiger, and looked down upon the street of temples and gods.
“That is, if it’s all the same to you,” he said.
There was no answer. But in his head, he was certain he knew what their response would be.