‘What of Sar Fareth?’

‘Dead.’

‘What?’

‘Killed ten months ago, shortly after you left. Slain by a human, of all things. An unlucky thrust with a wooden spear.’ Argel Tal tapped two fingertips against his neck. ‘Tore out most of his throat, laid it bare to the bone. I’ve never seen anything like it. Blood of the gods, I’d have laughed if it hadn’t been so pathetically tragic. He bled out before the Apothecaries could reach him, still trying to shout the whole time.’

The First Heretic