Crane gave in first. “All right, spit it out. You’ve a problem with the shaman?” “Not to say problem.” Merrick raised his hands. “Look, he’s a good bloke, I ain’t saying he’s not. Got a lot more sense than some people I could mention. Useful to have around. Short-arsed, and dresses from the rag and bone cart, but that ain’t up to me. And—what else was it? Oh yeah, he brought down a bloody mad bird storm on us by magic and killed a load of people, and one of them, all he did was look at her and she died. She fucking died because he looked at her. Jesus Christ.”
