“Thank you,” Almanack said. Now that they were closer, Bon could see the bruises of varying color – from the steely grey of stormclouds to the faintest jaundiced yellow – that covered his body like patchwork. Wrinkles sagged beneath his sunken eyes. His smile lacked many teeth. What a wretched creature. He seems as lost as I.
The little beasts were nowhere in sight, and Bon half-expected an ill-conceived plan to reclaim their quarry. But the only sounds and movement came from the wind. Despite their brutish nature, no assault came from Slatch and Durg.
After a moment’s pause, Bon spoke. “Why’d they capture you?”
Almanack glared at Bon warily. “Oh, come now. You must know.” His voice bore an irritable edge.
Almanack’s brows knitted. “I am Almanack, the Magnificent and Dreaded.” When Bon remained silent, the man stamped his feet. “I am a powerful Djinn, boy! Don’t act as if my name isn’t familiar. I strike awe in the populace!”
“I’m sorry,” Bon shrugged.
“Perhaps word of me hasn’t reached the Edgelands,” Almanack muttered. He glared at Bon. “But believe me, boy, I am not to be trifled with. There are entire regions that are afraid to speak my name.”
“Why would they be scared of your name?” Bon asked. “Let’s see, then. ‘Almanack’.” He paused, looking around them. “Was something supposed to happen?”
“I will not suffer your mockery.” Almanack sneered bitterly. He began walking away, chains clinking.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“If you think I escaped bondage from those little monsters just to fall into the clutches of a sarcastic, winged brat, you’re terribly mistaken.” He shuffled, grunting with each step. “I’m leaving. Anything’s better than this place.”
Bon hurried after him. "I’m coming too. I’m hungry, and there’s nothing around here.”