“Please don’t,” Nibble muttered, awakened by all this talking of dead and disemboweling.
I leaned in to inspect the old map. “So… the Salt Womb. That’s where the Surge will happen?”
Emrys nodded. “Yes. Three corridors lead there. Orren, Camille, Maerya—one for each one of you to defend.”
Maerya cackled darkly. “And I’ll make sure to prepare a warm welcome for these abominations.”
Camille nodded. “Will make them regret setting their foul feet on sacred ground.”
“It’s not only sacred ground. It’s soaked in centuries of mourning, worship, and longing. All that magic clings to the salt. That’s why your Surge manifests there. Salt binds. Salt preserves. Salt remembers,” Maerya said.
The room went silent, save for the hiss of the hot wind outside.
Emrys exhaled slowly. “We’d better make sure the Womb remembers us, too.”
Maerya smirked. “Oh, it will. Whether it wants to or not.”
Nibble cleared his throat. Loudly.
“You know it won’t work without me, right?”
He fluttered down to the edge of the parchment, landing right on top of the glowing Salt Womb rune.
“Someone’s gotta yell at you when you forget the basics. Or bleed too much. Or die.”
He narrowed his eyes at Emrys. “Especially you.”
There was a long pause.
When Emrys spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. “That’s exactly why you’re not coming.”
Nibble bristled. “Excuse me?”
Emrys crossed the chamber and crouched beside him. His voice had lost its usual edge.
“If something happens to us… someone needs to protect the Minaret. Take care of Liang. Keep an eye on the Renegade. Keep hope alive.”
Nibble stared at him, then at the others. He gave Camille a withering look.
“You’re all insane.”
Camille blew him a kiss. “And you love us for it.”
Nibble muttered under his breath, turned his back and flared his wings dramatically.
“Fine. I’ll stay. But if that ley line eats her and the pyramid collapses, don’t come crying to me.”
He paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “I’ll have your gravestones polished. Once a year. No flowers.”
Then he was gone—in a puff of dust and defiance.
Daphne
Donkeys and demigods
“R
eally, Emrys?” Camille asked, patting away flies with her hand. “Out of all possible methods of transportation?”
