Skandra stared at Shantar for a long moment, arms hanging at his sides. The old man stared back. There was an understanding between them that they worked well together. There might even be love, a son for a father and a father for a son, but they were always on the job. The job said if somebody got in your way, then you took them out, and so the understanding was more straightforward than most. Don't get in each others' way. Shantar was putting himself in Skandra's way because he didn't want Gershul to die. It was obvious from the conversation that Skandra had observed, and now the hesitation of the old man. Shantar licked his lips. The game was up. And yet he persisted.
"I..." Shantar began.
Skandra's body creaked, so fast was the hand that shot out and seized Shantar's collar. The alchemist grunted violently as he was dragged to his feet. Aeotha was saying something, but Skandra wasn't listening. One pair of knuckles was under Shantar's chin, and the other was holding a knife, which was pressed against the old man's throat. For his part Shantar seemed unafraid by the threat of violence; shocked, but not afraid. That was fine with Skandra. Let him think about it for a moment and the fear was going to get to him.
"He's going to die," Skandra snarled. "And I'm going to do it! Do you hear, old man? You tell me what happens if we close that gateway!"
"I don't know," Shantar murmured evenly.
A sharp jerk knocked Shantar's head back, made his arms boneless. Another sharp shake and the old man was closer to the fire, with a line of red on his neck where Skandra's knife had traced a path. Still Shantar made no move to resist. Still he did nothing but stare, as though it were all some sort of fucking game. You couldn't save a monster like Gershul. You couldn't save him, and Shantar had to stop lying to protect him, or Skandra was going to-
"There it is," Shantar began to laugh. "There's your father in you, boy. Only he would never talk me to death."
The old man was lying about one thing and telling the truth about the other. Skandra shoved him away, sent Shantar sprawling to his knees again. The knife went back to his belt. A suggestion of wind was tugging on his coat, making his shoulders feel tight, but Skandra could only think about one thing. How were they going to get home? And what were they going to do when they got there? Wait for this to go away on its own? Come back? The time was now, and if they'd come this far, they could go a little farther. Gershul was going to die on this world, and Skandra was going to leave him to rot.