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The answer did not lie in picking one over
the other, Crochan over Ironteeth. It never
had.
“If the Crochans will not rally a host, then
I’ll find another. One already trained.”
“You cannot go to Morath,” Asterin
breathed. “You won’t get within a hundred
miles. The Ironteeth host might be already too
far gone to even consider siding with you.”
“I’m not going to Morath.” Manon slid her
frozen hand into her pocket. “I’m going to the
Ferian Gap. To whatever of the host remains
there under Petrah Blueblood’s command. To
ask them to join us.”
Asterin and the Thirteen had been stunned
into silence. Letting them dwell on it, Manon
had turned into the trees. Had picked up
Dorian’s scent and followed it.
And seen him conversing with the spirit of
Kaltain Rompier, the woman healed and lucid