Is that it, then? Are you meant to be here to help people? That’s why you joined with them, isn’t it? But then … why do you have the arm?

‘You have your own god, don’t you?’ Asper asked, if only to keep out of her own head. ‘A goddess, anyway.’

‘Riffid, yeah,’ Kataria replied. ‘But Riffid doesn’t ask, Riffid doesn’t command, Riffid doesn’t give. She made the shicts and gave us instinct and that’s it. We live or die by those instincts.’

And what of a god who gives you a curse?Asper asked herself. Does he love or hate you, then?

‘So we don’t have signs or omens or whatever. And I’ve never looked for them before,’ Kataria continued with a sigh. ‘I’ve never needed to. Instinct has told me whether I could or I couldn’t. I’ve never had to look for a different answer.’

Is there a different answer? What else could there be, though? How many ways can you interpret a curse such as this? How many ways can you ask a god to explain why he made you able to kill, toremove people completely, to your satisfaction?

‘So … how do you do it?’

It took a moment for Asper to realise she had just been asked a question. ‘Do what?’

‘Know,’ Kataria replied. ‘How do you know what’s supposed to happen if nothing tells you?’

How would a woman of faith know if her god doesn’t tell her?

‘I suppose,’ Asper whispered softly, ‘you just keep asking until someone answers.’

‘That’s what I’m tryingto do,’ Kataria said, pressing against Asper’s back as she pressed her question. ‘But you’re not answering. What do I do?’

‘About your instincts?’

‘About Lenk, stupid!’

‘Oh,’ Asper said, blanching. ‘Ew.’

‘Ew?’

‘Well … yeah,’ Asper replied. ‘What about him? Do you like him or some-’

The question was suddenly bludgeoned from her mouth into a senseless cry of pain as something heavy cracked against her head. She cast a scowl over her shoulder to see Kataria resting the gohmn leg gently in her lap, not offering so much as a shrug in excuse.

‘Did … did you just hit me with a roach leg?’ the priestess demanded, rubbing her head.

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘ Whydid you just hit me with a roach leg?’

‘You were about to ask something dangerous,’ Kataria replied casually. ‘Shicts share an instinctual rapport with one another. We instantly know what’s acceptable and unacceptable to speak about.’

‘I’m human!’

‘Hence the leg.’

‘So you’ve graduated from insults to physical assault and you expect me to sit here and listen to whatever lunacy you spew out? What happens next, then? Don’t tell me.’ She started to rise again. ‘How many times have youbeen hit in the head today?’

Kataria’s grip was weak, her voice soft when she took Asper by the wrist and spoke. Asper could feel the tension in her body slacken, as though something inside her had clenched to the point of snapping. It was this that made the priestess hesitate.

‘I’m asking you to listen,’ the shict whispered, ‘so that I don’t find out what happens next.’

Uncertain as to whether that was a threat or not, Asper settled back into her seat and tried to ignore the feeling of the shict’s tension.

‘The thing is, we’re not even supposed to talkto humans,’ Kataria explained. ‘We only learn your language so we can know what you’re plotting next. Originally, I thought that being amongst your kind would be a good way to find that out.’ She sighed. ‘Of course, within a week, it became clear that no one really had anything all that interesting going on in their head.’

Asper nodded; an insult to her entire race was slightly more tolerable than an insult to her person, at least.

‘I should have run, then,’ Kataria said. ‘I should be running now … Why am I not?’

‘Is it’ — Asper winced, bracing for another blow — ‘just Lenk that’s keeping you here?’

‘I protected him today,’ the shict said, a weak chuckle clawing its way out of her mouth. ‘He was going into one of his fits, so I stepped forward and did the talking. I protecteda human.’

‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’

‘I’ve killed something that might have killed a human before, but I never did … whatever it was I did,’ Kataria said. ‘He just needed help and I …’

‘Uh-huh,’ Asper said after the shict’s voice had trailed off. ‘And you did it because of his … fits did you call them?’

‘Have you noticed them?’

Asper closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She wondered if Kataria could feel her tension growing, if she could feel the chill racking her body.

Fits, she thought to herself. I have noticed no fits. I have noticed what Denaos whispers, how he accuses Lenk of going mad, slowly. I have noticed the emptiness of Lenk’s eyes, the death in his voice, the words he spoke.

‘Tell me,’ Asper said softly, the words finding their way to her lips of their own accord. ‘Do you listen to your instincts?’

‘Of course.’

‘Even when they tell you something you don’t want to hear?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s talk about Lenk for a moment.’

‘All right,’ Kataria replied hesitantly.

‘We don’t know where he came from aside from a village no one’s heard of, we don’t know who his parents are, what his lineage is or even where he got his sword.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Kataria protested. ‘Even hedoesn’t know that.’

‘And does he know who taught him to fight?’

‘What?’

‘I learned from the priests, Dreadaeleon was taught by his master, even Denaos likely learned all that he knows from someone,’ Asper pressed. ‘Who taught you to fire a bow? To track?’

Kataria’s body tensed up again, the kind of nervous tension that Asper had felt many times before. Uncertainty, doubt, fear. It ached more than she thought it might to put Kataria through them. But her duty, too, was clearer than she thought it might be.

‘My mother,’ Kataria said. ‘But what-?’

‘Have you ever known,’ Asper spoke silently, ‘anyone who fights, who kills as naturally as Lenk does?’ At Kataria’s silence, she pressed her back against her. ‘Have you seen him after he kills?’

Her question was not delivered with the cold, calculating tone she thought would be befitting. It was choked, quavering, but she could hardly help it. The realisations were only coming to her now, with swift and sudden horror. But perhaps that wasn’t so bad, she reasoned; perhaps Kataria would be comforted to know someone shared her plight, someone that was trying to help her.

And she wouldhelp the shict, she resolved. Helping people, regardless of what kind of people they were. That was why she had taken her oaths.

‘I … I have,’ Kataria replied with such hesitation that Asper knew the same images filled her head.

‘I’ve seen everyone kill,’ Asper whispered. ‘I forced myself to, to know how it was done, if … if I ever had to. Denaos boasts, you exult, Dreadaeleon pauses to breathe, even Gariath took the time to snort. But Lenk … does nothing. He says nothing, he doesn’t react, but he looks … he looks …’ The dread came off her tongue. ‘Satisfied. Whole.’

She could feel Kataria tremble, or perhaps that was herself, for she frightened herself as much as she tried to frighten her companion. But perhaps both of them needed to be frightened, she reasoned, both of them needed to be scared in the face of this new realisation that, in the absence of any demon or longface, Lenk might be the greatest threat.

‘Who looks like that?’ she asked. ‘What would make a man act like that?’

Trauma? Madness? Something else? Whatever plagued him, whatever threatened him, threatened them all, Asper knew. And as she felt Kataria tremble, felt her go limp against her back, she knew her friend knew it as well.

‘Your instincts were confused,’ Asper said softly. ‘You wanted to run, as would anyone, but you want to help and only a few can say they would want that.’