Abia shakes her head vigorously. Shyan puts on a guise of affront. “Magic circle? Lighthouse? No, no, friend, you’ve got it all wrong.”
Fassn’s brow falls. Under his breath, he says to Shyan, “Isn’t that what we’re trying to do?”
Shyan frowns at him and he straightens his back. “Oh, the lighthouse? Where the witch lives? Certainly not,” he says, too loudly.
Cang appears bemused, his sentries swaying uneasily. Horton Belwether looks terrified, his eyes darting between each of the gang and the many corpsey things just hanging around.
“Very well,” Cang says at last. “It has been so very long since I dined with those of refinement. Though I suppose looking at you—” he says as he does so, taking in the road-stained garments of his former friends “—that time may yet be further still.” He claps sharply. “Horton, prepare the carriage.”
