Page 100 of Brimstone

“I should have been here,” he whispered. “I should have sat with her.” He frowned, confusion tugging at his features. “I don’t . . . even know why we do it. Seventy-two hours. That’s how long we sit with them when they die. The people that we love.”

I tucked my chin, exhaling. “Zilvarens do it for the same reason we do it. You sit with your loved ones to make sure they don’t rise. After three days, the chance of them transitioning ends. The dead stay dead. For us, it’s a practical safeguard. It must have become tradition here.”

Hayden hadn’t said much until now. He stared at us both, eyes wide. “What are you talking about, transitioning?”

Carrion didn’t reply. He was lost in the fire again.

“Later,” I told him. “There’ll be plenty of time for explanations once we get back to Yvelia.” The answer didn’t assuage his concern, by the looks of things. But Hayden nodded, his throat working as he swallowed.

Somewhere, deep in the desert, a haunting, mournful cry went up. Crying? No, it was . . .singing. Beautiful. Sad. Eerie. The woman’s sorrow echoed across the dunes, the melody so haunting and lonely that I knew I would never forget it.

We watched the pyre for an hour, until the heat became unmanageable and Carrion’s knees buckled. I caught him by the back of his shirt and held him up. The poor bastard’s face and neck were still marked from Joshin’s stingers. He looked exhausted. Ready to give up. He nodded, breathing deep, indicating that he could stand on his own, but rather than letting him go, I pulled him into a hug.

Saeris wasn’t here. But if she was, this is what she would have done for him.

Carrion immediately tried to pull away, but I hugged him tighter—too tight, maybe—refusing to let him go. He sagged, burying a single, choked cry into my chest, and that was all Iheard out of him. His body rocked with silent sobs for a minute, and I held him. And then he stopped, and it was over.

When he pulled away again, I let him go. His face was bright red, his eyes hollow. He nodded, his voice cracked with emotion. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

This way. Thisss way. This is the way.

The quicksilver was restless today. It whispered in the back of my mind, directing me as we traveled through the tunnels beneath the city, back toward the Third. So little of it remained in me now that its voice was singular. Almost childlike. Easily ignored. It felt different today, though. More insistent. It was happy when we were heading in the direction itwantedus to travel in, but the moment we changed course, it wreaked havoc on my insides.

The sensation would have been less infuriating had Hayden Fane shut up once since we’d entered the tunnels.

“It stinks down here,” he mumbled.

I bit my tongue.

“I can barely see.”

I stared ahead, jaw clenched.

“There areratsdown here.”

I spun around and pinned the fucker to the wall.

“Are you done?” I seethed. He couldn’t exactly reply—not with my hand wrapped around his fucking throat. His eyes rolled in his head like a spooked horse. “I really think youshouldbe. Because you’re starting to sound like a petulant, spoiled little shit who hasn’t had to deal with hardship a day in his fucking life.”

Hayden’s eyes rolled back into his head. He passed out.

“Perfect.” Carrion sounded unfazed by the turn of events. “You scared him unconscious. That’s just . . .perfect.”

“At least he’ll be quiet for a moment.”

The moment didn’t last long. Hayden was awake and looking like he’d shit his britches less than a minute later. I crouched down and shoved a finger in his face. “Do not say a fuckingword. Come on. On your feet. Move.”

The rest of the journey back to the tunnels was relatively peaceful. We collected the bags of silver from the abandoned maintenance room where we had stowed them earlier. I was desperate for daylight by the time Carrion launched himself up and out of an access hatch he claimed was close toanotherapartment that he used—apparently, he had more than one.

The smuggler lifted himself up through the hole and then reached back down again for Hayden. I barely had to help the human up; Carrion had already pulled him through. I followed after, irritation hot at the back of my throat. “How is it that I had to deal with your ass in my face the last time you tried to climb out of a tunnel, and yet now you’re perfectly capable of climbing out by yourself?”

The look Carrion gave me spoke volumes. “It’s very simple, Fisher. If you treat me like I’m the court jester, I’ll be the court jester. If I’m the laughingstock, or the drunk, or the idiot, then you’re not thinking about who Ireallyam, are you. I survived here for over a thousand years. Do you really think I’d have been able to do that if I couldn’t pull myself out of a fuckinghole? If at any point, you underestimate me . . .” He smirked, arching a dark copper eyebrow. “Then I’d say that wasyourmistake rather than mine. Wouldn’t you?”

There were posters on the walls, now, as we slipped through the Third.

Thick, blocky text screamed:

DANGER! ENEMIES OF THE CROWN!