Sarkis swam up out of the silver sword-dreams, and discovered that he was looking at a corpse. More specifically, he was looking at Bartholomew’s corpse. There was quite a large knife buried in his back, and he was face down on a cluttered table that Sarkis recognized from their previous visits. “I gather you’re the wielder now?” he said to Nolan, studying the corpse dispassionately.
Oh boy
