“What?” whispered Authran. “What’s wrong?”
“Ran, y’ don’t think—I mean, what if... what if it’s dead folk tryin’ to mix us up?”
“Oh, rubbish. Why should they?”
“They might not like us trampin’ about.”
“Everybody here’s dead. They’re not interested.”
“Thal’s not dead, not properly.”
“Well, he’s different, apparently. He’s dead, he just hasn’t... you know... gone.”
“That’s the sort of thing I mean.”
“Look, nothing can happen, just apply yourself.”
“There’s a lot we thought couldn’t happen. What about the Gulta? What about the dreams and that feller with claws?”
“What about your Fire-spirit?” Authran asked.
“Oh. Aye, well, right enough.”
“Wouldn’t profess to know about these things but, um, could it help? Or be helping? I mean, could you ask it?”
“Dunno. Never thought of talkin’
