"Stop pacing, Ishan. You’re going to walk right through the floorboards, and considering we’re currently standing in a den of cutthroats and tax-evaders, falling through to the basement isn’t on my to-do list," Eron hissed, pressing a hand against his newly bandaged ribs as a sharp twinge of pain shot through his torso.Ishan’s semi-transparent figure paused mid-stride, his silver-rimmed spectacles flashing in the dim, sulfurous light of the abandoned tannery. "I am not pacing, boy. I am calculating. Varek Tolin’s soul-scent tracking curse is not something you simply brush off like lint from a wool doublet. It is an active, tethered resonance. Every heartbeat you make sends a pulse straight to the Exorcist's pocket-watch. We have less than seventy-two hours before he kicks this door off its rotting hinges.""Which is precisely why we aren't sitting here waiting for him to RSVP," Saphira said, stepping out from the shadows near the entrance. She slung her heavy claymore across her back