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A scream burst from the cavern’s mouth, cut short by the crack of a whip and a snarling command. She was the only one to hear it echo on the stone.

Our brother,’ the longface on the right continued, heedless. This one was short and thin, his head swivelling back and forth with a rehearsed sense of ease, like a wispy plant. He smoothed the crimson robes over his purple body as he spoke. ‘And that does not change the fact that he was weak. The youngest is always the least talented.’

‘Talent or no, he shouldn’t have been able to die at all.’ The longface on the left, harder and broader than his brother, stroked a white goatee. ‘Our tools should have ensured that this did not happen. What good are the red stones if they fail?’

‘Netherlings can still die, if not stones, Yldus,’ the other pointed out. ‘Cahulus was cursed with weakness and stupidity. He was overconfident.’ He waved a hand and sighed. ‘But was it not the duty of Semnein Xhai to protect him?’

‘True enough, Vashnear.’ The one called Yldus looked up and over Greenhair’s head. ‘And, I ask again, Semnein Xhai, what is your explanation?’

Greenhair looked over her shoulder and saw that no explanation was forthcoming. The female longface did not so much as adjust her gaze to even acknowledge the two males. She stared instead at the shadows, grinding and jerking upon the wall. Her ears were pricked up, sensing every sound that emerged from the lit space behind the thrones.

And with every sound of ecstasy or agony, her white gaze grew more hateful.

‘She will not answer you.’ Vashnear sighed. ‘And why should we ask? It is clear by her wounds that she was as unprepared as Cahulus.’

The reference to the bandages wrapped about the female’s ribcage, hip and neck got her attention. Xhai’s stare jerked to the longface, her lip curling upwards in a snarl.

‘Cahulus was weak,’ she growled, ‘and he died sobbing. If it hadn’t happened this time, it would have happened in the next raid. Nothing I could have done would have cured his weakness.’ She folded her arms over her chest, drummed three fingers upon her biceps. ‘Be thankful he didn’t piss himself before he died.’

‘And yet, for all that sacrifice, you still don’t have the tome,’ Yldus said, steepling his fingers. ‘Nor did you even encounter the Deepshriek, much less kill it.’

‘An issue I will take up with Master Sheraptus,’ Xhai replied coldly, returning her attention to the shadows.

The red-clad netherling looked over his shoulder at the cavern wall and giggled. ‘He might be a while.’

Xhai’s mouth dropped open, her three fingers balling up into a fist. ‘You wretched little-’

‘And what of you, screamer?’ Greenhair felt Yldus’s hard gaze upon her. ‘We make no inconsiderable compromise to our worth by admitting you in here. What do you have to say for yourself?’

‘I. .’ The siren hesitated, wincing. ‘What I speak is reserved for the greatest longface.’

‘His name is Sheraptus,’ Xhai growled, giving the siren a harsh shove. ‘You will call him Master.’

‘A-apologies,’ she said, feeling the blow ache between her shoulders. ‘But the information is great, it must be-’

‘Reserved for the greatest.’

All eyes looked up at the new voice. This one lacked the harshness of the others’, bearing no snideness, no hatred, no concern. It was slow and easy, like languid falls over smooth rocks, like. .

Mine, Greenhair thought.

And this new longface looked nothing like the others. He was tall, but not menacing, lean, but not hungry-looking. His eyes sparkled instead of scowled and his smile was pleasant, not cruel. His robe hung open around a body developed to the point of attractiveness, not grotesque-ness.

Greenhair pursed her lips. If she hadn’t heard his smile, hadn’t heard the tears he caused, she might think him a good man on sight alone.

‘A sound policy,’ the new longface said, closing his robes and stepping out from the darkness.

He made a beckoning gesture and there was the sound of bare feet scraping against the stone. The human female who followed him did not bother to close her robe, nor even look up. She shuffled forwards as though her legs strained to die beneath her. Her eyes were wide and vacant, hands limp at her sides, hair hanging over her face like a veil to hide her shame.

Not nearly long enough to hide the tear streaks, Greenhair thought.

‘Now then,’ he said, taking a seat upon the black mass and gesturing for his consort to kneel beside him. ‘What is it that makes everyone so talkative during my private time?’

‘You could always order us out,’ Yldus muttered, pointedly looking away.

‘I like an audience,’ the longface said, smiling, ‘a respectful one, though. I can only assume it was pressing business that made you all so chatty.’ He steepled his long fingers and stared at Greenhair over them. ‘So. . chat.’

‘Longface-’ she whispered, cut short by the blow to the back of her head.

Sheraptus,’ Xhai snarled. ‘Master Sheraptus.’ She delivered a booted kick to Greenhair’s legs, forcing her to the earth. ‘And you will kneel before your betters.’

‘Do calm down, Xhai,’ Sheraptus said, sighing. He directed a sympathetic smile to the siren. ‘Apologies. She and her fellow warriors are all so excitable. They learn a new word and they’re just dying to use it. I’m sure you’ve heard them with their chants: “eviscerate, decapitate” and so forth.’ He laughed, waving a hand. ‘Females, hm? You know how it goes. . well, of course you know.’

‘Sh-Sheraptus,’ Greenhair whimpered from the earth.

Master Sheraptus,’ the tall longface replied. ‘Xhai is enthusiastic, but not mistaken in this case.’ He laughed again, a gentle, resonant sound. ‘But we can discuss titles later. Let me hear you.’

‘Scream the way you do,’ Xhai warned in a low snarl from behind, ‘and I carve you open.’

‘I. .’ Greenhair tried to speak with the threat lingering in her ears. ‘I know where the tome is, Master Sheraptus.’

‘And you waited until now to tell us?’ Yldus leaned forwards in his throne, scowling. ‘We could have had a ship brimming with warriors and ready to take it ages ago.’

‘I am sure she had a good reason,’ Vashnear suggested.

‘I do!’ The siren rose slightly, resting upon her haunches. ‘I. . was conflicted. The demons, too, seek the tome. It would have been folly of me to put my faith in those who could not defeat them.’

‘You dare to insinuate-’ Xhai began to snarl, silenced by Sheraptus’s raised hand.

The tall longface merely smiled, raised a finger to the sky, and spoke a word. Fire erupted from the purple tip in a great blaze, illuminating his black seat. Greenhair’s voice caught in her throat.

It was still recognisable as an Abysmyth, but barely. Its arms had been twisted, crushed to resemble armrests. Its ribcage had been turned into a headboard and its skull decorated the top of the throne, eyes glassy and vacant in death as its toothy jaw hung slack over Sheraptus’s head. Then the longface spoke another word, doused the flame and rested his hand in his lap.

‘I trust that will prove sufficient evidence for your faith.’

‘It. . it does!’ Greenhair stammered. ‘But I have seen your power displayed on the blackened sands of Ktamgi, Master Sheraptus. I do not doubt your strength.’

‘Oh.’ Sheraptus’s eyes went wide, then narrow. ‘Well, then why do we even have this gaudy thing?’ He thumped a hand-turned-armrest. ‘I despise it.’

‘She betrayed us once already, Master Sheraptus,’ Xhai growled. ‘She was not there when we struck against the demons, as she said she would be. We did not know about the. . complications because she was not there.’

‘Complications?’ Sheraptus raised a brow.