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Asper said pleasantly as she stepped forwards unopposed, she being generally considered the person best suited to speak with people bearing more than two names. ‘We are pleased to see you well.’

    ‘ Serrant Quillian Guisarne-Garrelle Yanates,’ the woman corrected. ‘Your praise is undeserved, I fear.’ She cast a glimpse at the human litter and sneered. ‘I should have been here much sooner.’

    ‘Yes, scampering in a bit late today, aren’t we, Squiggy?’ Denaos levelled his snide smirk at her like a spear. ‘The battle was over before you even strapped that fancy armour on.’

    ‘I was guarding the Lord Emissary,’ the Serrant replied coldly. ‘You might recall it being your duty, as well, if you could but keep your mind from gold and carnage.’

    ‘Carnage?’ Kataria laughed unpleasantly. ‘It was a slaughter.’

    Quillian’s eyes sharpened, focusing a narrow glare of bladed hatred upon the shict.

    ‘You would know, savage.’ She forced her stare away with no small amount of effort. ‘I had hoped to arrive to see at least some modicum of rite was being followed. Instead, I find . . .’ she forced the word through her teeth as though it were poison, ‘ adventurers .’ She spared a cursory nod to Asper. ‘Excluding those of decent faith.’

    ‘Oh,’ the woman blinked, ‘well, thank you, but—’

    ‘ She’s with us,’ Denaos interjected, stepping up beside the priestess with a scummy grin. ‘How’s that stick in your craw, Squiggy? One of your beloved, pious temple friends embroiled in our world of sin and sell-swording, eh?’ He swept an arm about Asper, drawing her in close and rubbing his stubble-laden cheek against her face. ‘Doesn’t sit too well, does it? Does it? I can smell your disgust from here!’

    Lenk caught the movement, subtle as it was, as the rogue gingerly tried to ease his blanching captive towards the escape vessel. Dreadaeleon, too, looked shocked enough that he’d never see Kataria coming to grab him. He readied his sword, eyeing the ropes.

    ‘That would be me,’ Asper snarled, driving an ungentle elbow into his ribs and ruining his plans. ‘Get off .’

    ‘The hallowed dead litter the deck,’ the Serrant said, sweeping her scorn across the scene, then focusing it on Lenk. ‘Innocent men alongside the impure. All sloppily killed.’

    ‘What?’ Dreadaeleon asked, pointing to his impaled victim. ‘ That is, by far, the cleanest kill in this whole mess!’

    ‘Incredibly enough,’ Lenk added with a sigh, ‘killing is a sloppy business.’

    ‘These vagrants should have been routed before one of Argaol’s men could be driven below,’ she snapped. ‘ You allowed this to happen.’

    ‘Me?’ Lenk said.

    ‘ All of you.’

    ‘What?’ Kataria looked offended as she gestured to Denaos. ‘ He didn’t even do anything!’

    ‘Yeah,’ Lenk said, nodding. ‘How do you figure we’re at fault?’

    ‘Because of the horrid blasphemies that continually spew from your bile-holes. You anger the Gods with your disregard for the sacred rites of combat! Your crude tactics, your consorting with heathens,’ her stare levelled at Kataria again, ‘as well as inhuman savages.’

    Her eyes were decidedly warier when she swept the deck again.

    ‘And where is your other monster?’

    ‘Elsewhere,’ Lenk replied. ‘Look, we have a plan, but it doesn’t need you around. Is this really—’

    ‘Respect for the Gods is very necessary,’ Quillian said sharply. ‘Yes. Really. Bad enough that you bring your Godless savages here without questioning the divine mandate. ’

    ‘Savage arrows took three already.’ Kataria’s threat was cold and level. ‘I’ve got plenty more, Squiggy.’

    ‘Cease and repent, barbarian,’ the woman replied, just as harshly. Her gauntleted hand drifted dangerously close to the longsword at her hip. ‘The name of a Serrant is sacred.’

    ‘I’d disagree with that, Squiggy.’ Denaos chuckled.

    ‘Me too,