20
“The Hag had said that you wouldn’t be alone,” said Tarin the old warrior, behind Khaidu, as he gently rowed in the stern of his skin-covered boat.
“Aglaia,” confirmed Khaidu, not looking back at him, but instead at the never-ending forest of old willows trailing both edges of the never-ending river. “She . . . she’s dead.”
“Dead? What do you mean?”
With a sigh, Khaidu explained what had happened as soon as they had landed in the Realm of the Dead.
Tarin remained silent for a long time, deep in thought. Finally Khaidu looked back. It still felt strange to perform such formerly impossible motions with her body.
His eyebrows were scrunched over his lumpy nose. He scratched his black woven skullcap, then turned to the kestrel still sitting on his shoulder and started to twitter at it
