A Favour

Shanka shrugged, sheath her sword. “Then we’re the same kind of monster, we three.”

Rastaban shook his head, and then he remembered the wound at his throat. He reached up and touched the stickiness of dried blood again, and he knew what had happened.

“No.” He shook his head. “Impossible. I’d have noticed if I were one of the unkillable!”

“It doesn’t quite work like that,” Old Master said. “You have to completely die once to realize your full potential. The lass did you a favour.”

Shanka was ignoring the conversation and packing provisions into a sack of animal hide.