Quiberron decides that asking Lady Arabella about the stag skull brand was as good an avenue to continue his investigation as any, so he sets off to find the study.
Terrence looks at his hand. "Doesn't everyone hate an awkward silence? Silence that leaves you nothing to do but feel your feelings. That's what death holds for me, Little Terry—an eternal awkward silence."
"But Terrence," Little Terry says, "you are the progeny of the divinities! Surely your soul is painted with divine light! When your body crumbles, the gods will call you home. Your soul will take wing and float upon the ether!"
"Were that it were so, Little Terry, but the gods don't speak to me. Not a whisper. They don't come 'round on my birthday or invite me to dinner. Not a word. Raised by a servant. That's how the gods take care of me.
"Silence. Who can bear it?"
Sabal mutters, “I am fond of silence.... And solitude….”
Terrence sits on the floor facing the mop bucket with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his head. His eyes look more lucid, but he seems to have lost much of his usual confidence. He stares at the bucket silently and does not respond.
Having a moment, Flynn squats to examine the brand Quiberron had pointed out. He hums to himself in thought.
In a dangerous political climate, several expeditions are made to the infamous Wilds in hopes of expanding the country, Urbane, and avoiding an all out civil war. But, when the lord in charge of the excursions is almost assassinated, tensions increase and put new pressures on the brave explorers.