What do you want to do with the time you have left? It's a question most people never consider. Too busy thinking they have more time.

• Ignatius

4 Hours Later (Lighthome Time) - Ignatius - The Roc’s Nest

Molly sloshes over with another pitcher of beer. Dear friend. We don’t need it, but we kinda do. I ain’t sending it back.

We’re the only Dark Elves in the tavern, nest, thingy. Probably. It’s definitely a tavern - they sold us beer. I think this place actually started as a roc’s nest. It looks like it was built by a giant bird. Also, the bar is a giant bird skull. Suggests something of a hostile take-over. Anything can be a thingy. That’s just math.

Molly tops up my pint. We’re probably the only Dark Elves in the bar. It’s hard to say for sure. We’re practically identical to our Light Elf cousins. Our differences are purely philosophical. To blend in, I pretend that time doesn’t exist. Beer helps.

Roland storms into the tavern. Uh-oh. He’s grumpy. Either he fucked up or I did. I’m afraid to ask.

“Did we fuck up?” asks Molly.

“No.” Roland grabs the pitcher, drains it. “I lost Copycat.”

I shrug. “It happens. She’s a runner.”

“She didn’t run.” snaps Roland. “She was poached by Longstrider.”

“Longstrider?” I’m baffled. “The fuck? You sure? There’s lots of drunk gnomes.”

Roland grunts. “Had his first mate with him.”

“Cyan?” Well shit. That’s a bizarre complication. Blast from the past. “I thought The Silence had scrambled their brains.”

“She did. Repeatedly.”

“I guess it didn’t take.” Longstrider probably didn’t have enough brains to scramble. Cyan’s a worry, tho. Guy’s a fucking weapon.

Roland shrugs. “Hard to say. Longstrider always seemed a little brain damaged. He never even saw me. Or he’s playing a long con. Fucking Longstrider. Anyway, sober up. I need help.”

I shake my head. “Can’t. I got a line on Vali. His bounty is double Copycat’s. It’s gonna take you, me, and a team of expendables to bring him in.”

Roland grunts. “So we leave Molly to track Copycat?”

“Naw, I have a better idea.” I turn to Molly. “How are you with awkward silences?”

Molly says nothing.

I laugh. Her comedic timing is impeccable. Or, she’s asleep. It’s funny either way.

“Grab another pitcher.” I tell Roland. “We’ll sort it out in the morning.”