CHAPTER 8WHISPERS IN THE DARK
It was a sentry called Hamood. They found him at the end of his shift. He lay curled in a ball like a frightened child, whimpering and slobbering, his face empty and his eyes wide and dull, as if the mind behind them was dead. Carthalla pressed white knuckles against her teeth, clutching Kellory’s arm. Kellory said nothing, but his dark face was cold and hard as iron.
“He keeps muttering the same thing over and over again,” Shamad hissed between clenched teeth. “‘Stop the Whispers,’ he says. ‘Make the Whispers stop’—’tis uncanny. What think you, Warlock?”
“I think the wise men of your tribe were right when they said the city was slain by The Whispering Death,” said Kellory briefly. Turning on his heel, he stalked away to stare at the empty houses, the broke
