"I haven't, personally. The job is being done. Falaq!"

Of course the job was being done. Else's companions were the best of the Sha-lug. He did not need to mother them.

AS SOON AS THERE WAS LIGHT SUFFICIENT TO INTIMIDATE THE Night, Else sent scouts out, posted sentries at the wood's edge, and had men start collecting the coins that had killed the bo-gon. He did not expect to recover many. There would be no time. Az was right. Soldiers from the Arnhander city-states, and everyone else interested in the Wells of Ihrian, would head for Esther's Wood me moment their Masters of Ghosts told them it was safe.

Else observed, "This land could see some blood spilled before the Tyranny of the Night reclaims it."

Someone suggested, "Suppose we check in with God? We could ask Him to make sure we don't do any of the bleeding."

ELSE STARED AT THE SPOT WHERE THE BOGON HAD FALLEN. The earth was burned barren, the soil cooked to dust, across a fifteen-foot circle. That formed a shallow bowl a foot deep in the middle. What looked like an obsidian egg six inches on its longer axis lay there. It still radiated heat.

Likewise, occasional streamers of mist curled away. You could see into the egg. Which, Else decided, was more kidney-shaped than egg-shaped. Silver coins remained trapped there. The coin nearest the egg's surface had melted around its rim. The inscriptions upon it were illegible.

Else asked, "The bogon can't pull itself back together here, can it, Az? It can't hatch out of this egg? It isn't some kind of phoenix?"

"No. A bogon is really strong. It's a king of spirits. But it's as simple as it's strong. Easy to kill in its manifest form, apparently. If you have a falcon, forewarning, and some silver shot Not to mention the assistance of a Master of Ghosts who doesn't get rattled." The unshakable Master of Ghosts collected the egg using a pair of heavy sticks. He wrapped it in rags, being careful not to touch it.