“Bahamut will decide,” Biri-Daar said.

At the mention of the god’s name, Remy caught a gleam of pale light beyond the glow of the campfire.

“You better hope something interesting happens between now and Karga Kul,” Kithri said. “And by interesting, I mean something that ends with some kind of booty. Otherwise you’re going to owe Biri-Daar for a horse. She’s not forgiving when it comes to debt.”

“I’m not going to Karga Kul,” Remy protested. “I must get to Toradan.”

“Then go right ahead back the way we came. Give the stormclaws and the hobgoblins our greetings,” Kithri said.

Remy stewed. He knew he wouldn’t survive the road to Toradan on his own. Kithri was right about the hobgoblins. They controlled everything on the map between the few points of civilization, of which Avankil and Karga Kul were the largest. Even the substantial towns such as Toradan were on constant alert against hobgoblin incursions, and the roads between settlements were heavily preyed upon by the creatures native to the wastes.

“Erathis has brought us together, Remy,” Keverel said. “Whatever worldly errand you contemplate, remember that the gods dispose and we must follow.”

Again, as Keverel mentioned the god’s name, something shone briefly just beyond the light. “Did you see that?” Remy asked. He pointed into the dark, in the direction of the gleam.

The others looked that way. “See what?” The elf-blooded had better night vision; Lucan stiffened as he caught sight of something.

“Stay close to the fire,” he said, as a chilling cackle came out of the darkness.

“Hyena,” Keverel said. He was shoulder to shoulder with Remy. “How did you see it?”

“There was a gleam when you said the god’s name,” Remy answered. He had the presence of mind not to use the name, since he was not a worshiper. Some gods looked dimly on hearing their names in the mouths of unbelievers.