It’s a task Lambert is pretty well suited for, at least. Since the poor bastard is dead, he isn’t going to bother being gentle about chopping through the branch in a motion that sends the body dropping into Childermass’s arms. Leaning over to examine him for signs for life, his lips curl back into a sneer at the rankness and general look of him.

“Who is he? Another magician?” The skepticism in his voice suggests he very much doubts it, but he also can’t comprehed any other reason Childermass would care for someone like this.