Nine
The caretaker led Cathal and Brice along a tunnel, then round a corner. The poor thing’s trace was sour with blood, but there was a coppery aroma in the air now. It mingled with other stenches; sweat and excrement, and something putrid.
It was what Cathal expected, but not to this degree. When the caretaker led them into the pit, and Brice recoiled at his side, even Cathal shuddered.
The caretaker stepped to one side and waved a hand, offering Cathal whatever he pleased. The poor thing seemed willing to serve, a rarity amongst the kin, and Cathal wondered how long the caretaker had been here, all alone.
Alone, except for the bodies.
Nyle had something similar, back in Haven. But Nyle had others care for the vessels, keeping them clean. It made sense—they provided more when they
