An end, an end. Gods, she might be right. He stared at Tool’s fur-clad back, and was almost overcome with a sense of loss. Vast, ineffable loss. ‘You might be wrong, Lady.’ ‘I might,’ she agreed affably. ‘Do you hope that I am, Toc the Younger?’ He nodded. ‘Why?’ she asked. Why? Unhuman creatures sworn to genocide. Brutal, deadly, implacable. Relentless beyond all reason. Toc nodded towards the T’lan Imass ahead of them. ‘Because he’s my friend, Lady Envy.’
