Grub’s smile faded as soon as no one was looking, and the loathing in his heart bled out onto his face. Let them treat him like a cur; it was no more than he was used to. The only account of him that mattered was the one made when he died, when the Bone God spread out his skin and read upon it the deeds of his life. Then all these humiliations would be as nothing. But Grub had half a body to cover before he dared let the Bone God lay eyes on him; and for that, he needed these people, whether they liked him or not. Half a body, to atone for the other half. He tipped
