“What was that?” Lazlo asked him after they left. “That was fear,” Eril-Fane said simply. “But… fear of what?” Lazlo couldn’t comprehend it. “The citadel’s empty. What can there be to harm them?” Eril-Fane let out a slow breath. “Were you afraid of the dark as a child?” A chill snaked up Lazlo’s spine. He thought again of the crypt at the abbey, and the nights locked in with dead monks. “Yes,” he said simply. “Even when you knew, rationally, that there was nothing in it that could harm you.” “Yes.” “Well. We are all children in the dark, here in Weep.”
