‘Speak to us!’ Maulkin commanded him. ‘Just one word. Just your name and we will let you go. Reach for it, reach back for it. You have it. We know you do. We can smell the thickness of your memories.’ He battered wildly at the prophet. His mouth gaped and stretched with his sounds, but no sense came out of him. Then he suddenly went still. His eyes, small and brown, went wide. His mouth gaped once, twice. Then he suddenly relaxed in Maulkin’s grasp. Shreever lidded her eyes. The silver-grey creature was dead. They had killed him, to no good end.
