02/24/2025 Snippet, JUDITH STORMCROW AND THE FLIM-FLAM MAN.

Disputes!

…

Judith gave the soon-to-be-bodies a look-over. Some of her crew were carefully searching them for holdout weapons or last-curse tablets, because you didn’t kill a Death-Seeker until they were naked and out of easy grabbing range. Their god had a morbid sense of humor about reanimating his dead worshipers, but it usually didn’t matter if you cut off the head in time.

“Yeah,” she told him. “We’ll do for them in a couple of minutes, once we’re sure they’re not carrying anything.”

“Good!” snarled Gregor. Then he… blinked, and even shuddered for a moment. The man opened his mouth, stopped, flicked a look at Judith for a moment, then carefully stood up. “I need to move around for a moment, Mistress Stormcrow. Please excuse me. I am not angry at you.” He didn’t wait for her response; he just got up, and walked over to one of the storage wagons. In fact, he almost ran.

Judith watched him with an unhappy eye. It was probably a good thing that Gregor told her that he wasn’t angry at her, because Gregor was angry about something. The wagon was too far away for her to hear anything, and Gregor was visibly keeping his arms crossed, but the man’s body language was of somebody who was infuriated, and desperately trying not to shout. It all reminded her of, well, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was definitely familiar.

So was Gregor’s slightly dejected trudge back. “I’m sorry, Mistress Stormcrow, but the answer is actually ‘Bad.’” He grimaced at her confusion. “I need you not to kill them.”