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Geth took another deep breath, then stood up. Or tried to. The muscles in his legs spasmed as he rose, and he almost fell over before he found Tenquis’s shoulder for support. His arms and hands were trembling too—but then again, they’d all risen early that morning, hiked through jungle, fought and fled from the varags, then fled again from the construct of Suud Anshaar. It was small wonder he was trembling and exhausted. And it was probably a good thing the varags had run away. He couldn’t have managed more than a dozen strokes with Wrath before the sword fell from his hands.

“Geth?” asked Ekhaas.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. He glanced around at the others. They all looked as tired as he felt, even Marrow. His lips twitched and he smiled, then laughed. Tenquis turned to stare at him.

“Have you snapped?” he asked.

Geth shook his head, pushed away from the tiefling, and wiped at his eyes with hands that were sticky with blood and dust. “Before we went into the ruins, I asked Tooth if he’d want to sleep here.” He nodded toward the jungle. “Let’s get under cover, then find a place to rest. Even if that construct starts wailing again, I’m going to sleep like the dead.”

The heat of sunlight on his face drew Geth slowly back toward wakefulness in the little clearing they’d found in the jungle. Vague memories of dreams clung to him—skeletal black serpents that chased after him while notched disks rolled across the night sky in place of moons. He shook the memories off, rising into a place of calm and well-being, where Ekhaas sang lullabies that shook buildings to ruins, Chetiin rode Marrow through shadows, and Tooth swung his grinders with both hands. They’d escaped Suud Anshaar. The varags had fled. It was good. He tried to will himself back down into sleep.

“Geth.”

Sleep evaded him. Tenquis was there, mouthing words that Geth couldn’t quite hear. Geth tried to answer, but his words wouldn’t come out either.

“Geth, wake up.”

Tenquis slid away. A shadow passed between Geth and the sun. Something cold burned across his throat. Adolan’s collar? No, it was too thin. Too sharp. He felt a sickening sensation of danger.

Any sense of calm vanished. His eyes opened wide to sunlight filtered through the canopy of the jungle. Instantly a hand pressed against his forehead. “Move,” said a rich, calm voice from somewhere above his head, “and you’ll cut your own throat.”

Sudden waking blurred his thoughts. He knew that voice, but it was so utterly out of place that he couldn’t identify it. He knew it was telling the truth, though. The cold at his throat was the edge of a knife. Geth forced his body to lie still and rolled his eyes back as far as he could to try and see who held him.

Midian Mit Davandi leaned into his field of vision. “Good morning,” he said.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

14 Vult

There was no immediate response from Geth. “I hope you slept well,” Midian added. “It looks like you had an eventful night.”

“What are you doing here?” the shifter growled.

“Lhesh Tariic sends his greetings,” Midian told him with a smile. “And before you say anything else, shift your eyes to your right.”

Geth looked—and his eyes widened slightly as he saw Makka with his trident poised over Ekhaas’s chest. The hobgoblin’s eyes were also open and hard. Midian had made a point of waking her first with a very specific warning. Any hint of a song and Makka would push his weapon home.

Two of their quarry neutralized and with them a third. Geth looked up and found Chetiin on his feet, waiting. The old goblin’s face was blank. His hands were loose at his sides, but Midian didn’t doubt that they could produce hidden blades in an instant. He knew he didn’t have to warn Chetiin that whichever of his friends he tried to save, the other one would die—he and the shaarat’khesh elder were too much alike. That made Chetiin the most dangerous of the group.

“There’s rope beside Tenquis,” Midian told Chetiin. “Wake him up and have him bind you. Then have him muzzle and bind the worg. Make sure it doesn’t resist him.”

Chetiin’s eyes narrowed. “Her name