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Dawsyn sighs, then says, “It was a legend my grandmother would tell my sister and I on the Ledge. There is no knowing if it was anything more than a child’s tale.”

“Tell it anyway,” Ryon presses, and awaits the third fable of Yerdos to begin.

“Ach, some folks get carried away with their tales,” Salem barks. “Said tha’ Queen Yerdos became a hawk after she died, flappin’ all o’er the mountain. Protectin’ it. That’s where she came from, see? King Kladerstaff found her up on the mountain by herself an’–”

“Salem!Let Dawsyn speak, man,” Ryon growls.

“Oh. Pardon me, lass.”

Dawsyn only frowns, her head cocked to the side at Salem’s rambling, but she gives it a shake and begins. “My grandmother told us of Yerdos, who took the shape of a great hawk, as big as a man. She was the keeper of the mountain before Moroz came.”

“Moroz?” Ryon questions.

“The cold,” Dawsyn explains. “The cold is not alive, but at one time, people believed it was.”

“Moroz,” Salem mutters, turning the word over, as though it were familiar. “Now, where’ve I heard tha’?”

“Continue,” Ryon ushers Dawsyn, his eyes glued to her.

“Moroz came to the mountain and froze the ground. It shrouded everything in snow, chased the animals from the slopes, and Yerdos could do nothing to stop it. So, she flew to the peak of the mountain, where no mortal can reach, and consulted the Mother.

“The Mother only laughed at Yerdos. She would not lift her mighty hand to stay the frost that had smothered the mountain. Enraged, Yerdos sought to destroy the mountain all together. She soared from the mountain’s peak, diving until her indestructible beak collided with rock. When it finally did, the mountain split in two. A great chasm was formed, and Yerdos descended into its depths, where she became its keeper instead.”

All are silent as they listen to the final ringing notes of Dawsyn’s story, reverberating back to them, courtesy of the very Chasm she spoke of.

“Terrsaw legends,” Salem mutters, his head shaking. “Fuckin’ drivel.”

“If you’re talking of meagain,old man,” comes the raised voice of Esra as he joins the circle, “I shall have to tell everyone about the bouquet of roses you have tattooed betwixt your nipples. And I seem to recall you threatening my life should I reveal a secret so intimate, so–”

“ESRA!”

“Tit for tat, old man. Or two tits for tat, in this case.”

“We was talkin’ about Saint Yerdos, yeh fuckin’ knuckle-brained, arse-mouthed–”

“Oh! I do love the exchange of ancient legend.”

Ryon pinches the bridge of his nose. “How unfortunate you missed it then.”

“Did you tell the tale right, Salem? Of Queen Yerdos? And her revenge plague?”

A beat of silences passes. “What?” Ryon utters.

Esra smacks Salem heartily in the belly, making the other man double over. “Should have known you wouldn’t have told it right!”

“I told it like yer ’sposed to, yeh lech. Stop hittin’ me!”

“Shut up, both of you,” Dawsyn snaps, and miraculously, the might of her stare seems to quell them. “What did you mean, Es, when you spoke of a revenge plague?”

“Well,” Esra says, his expression animated. He squares his shoulders as though he were a stage man addressing an audience. “Terrsaw is rather divided on the history of Queen Yerdos, you see. Most believe she was a benevolent saint. Our dear Baltisse used to say she was stark raving mad. If you ask me, I think she was simply misunderstood. And then there is a certain subclass of people who rather think she was a nasty bitch with a chip on her shoulder.”

“She was touched by theHoly Mother, yeh imbecile!”

“She was touched in thehead, Salem. You can kiss the feet of every statue erected in her name, but it won’t change the facts.”

“Do you think he’ll actually relaythe facts anytime soon?” Tasheem asks of Ryon, her brow furrowed. “Or should I choke it out of him?”

“Unfortunately for you, queen of the bat people, I only invite that brand of bed play in fellow gentlemen.”