The summons didn't come.
That was the worst part. They lined the whole rim of the pass above us, a ring of crouched and waiting shapes stark against the grey sky, and they simply held there, the way a held breath holds, because Altharion had not yet told them otherwise. He stood at the center of them with his hands folded behind his back, and he was in no hurry at all.
'He wants to talk. Of course he wants to talk.'
I'd noticed that about him already. The ones who were truly dangerous never rushed.
"You walked all this way in," Altharion called down, pleasant as ever. "I half expected that incompetent spirit to balk at the bridge. But no — straight in, straight through my welcome, and now look at you. All four, tucked so neatly into one little stone pocket."
He tilted his head.
"It's almost like someone wanted you here."
