familiar. The man from the wedding, the one who had tried to comfort him. Ilrin. It took him only a moment longer to make other connections. None he could put names to, but many of which he remembered clearly. All of them men whose form, at one time or another over the last couple of weeks, Malshash had chosen to take. Malshash just stood for a few more moments, staring at Davian, panting as if he had been running a race. “Prepare yourself, Davian,” he snarled eventually. “You leave this place today.” He spun without another word, stalking off down the road and into the mists.
