[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]
“Though I would hope that you would answer my question,” Anselm said, still staring straight ahead. “The one you seem to think you so neatly sidestepped.”
Seamus’s jaw tightened slightly. “What question would that be, old friend?”
“Who’s coming, Seamus?” Anselm asked softly.
Seamus snorted softly. “Who isn’t?”
“Then who are you so worried about? You don’t ask favors like this because of diffuse concerns. Typically there’s something specific driving you. Your gut, in this instance, is not an acceptable answer.”
Of course he would ask. Of course. His lips thinned. Anselm’s brow furrowed and he leaned closer.
“What is it that you don’t want to tell me, Seamus? What bone is stuck in your bloody throat?”
He took a deep breath, then another, exhaling slowly after each. He watched the sparring match end without seeing it, waited until another had begun before he finally spoke, the words coming thickly from his throat.
“The sisters,” he said, his voice a whisper. “They’ll come for vengeance against my cousin and against the people here. I don’t know if they’ll come before Leviathan returns or after—one may bide their time and wait until the other has depleted us before they sweep in to mop up what’s left. I fear they’ll come sooner.”
“You can’t take revenge on a corpse,” Seamus said. “And I doubt that they’d cross Leviathan were we to join him, so I doubt they’d take the risk of us doing just that.”
“You assume they know more than they might, old friend,” Anselm said. “They may not know that Leviathan walks. They may not know what he plans even if they do—and they certainly may not know that he’s made overtures to the people here if they’re aware of what he plans to do.”
“If I assume any other way, we may lose,” Seamus said, his voice grave. “So I assume what I must—planning for the worst as I hope for a best outcome that’s likely not to be.”
“Trying to get ahead of things,” Anselm murmured.
Seamus nodded. “As best I can.”
I fear it’s not enough.