‘So that is why you chose this temple,’ Bugg said. ‘Alas, your worshippers are long gone.’

‘You may think so.’ A half-dozen voices now, a whispered chorus. ‘But you are wrong.’

‘Why did you kill that mortal?’

‘He was blocking the doorway.’

‘So, now that you’re here…’

‘I will wait.’

Bugg considered this, and the implications inherent in that statement. He slowly frowned. ‘Very well. But no more killing. Stay in here.’

‘I will agree to that. For now.’

‘Until what you’re waiting for… arrives.’

‘Yes. Then we shall hunt.’

Bugg turned away. ‘That’s what you think,’ he said under his breath.

He reappeared outside the temple. Studied the five terrified faces in the gloom. ‘Spread the word that no-one is to enter that temple.’

‘That’s it? What about the guards? The mages? What about Strong Rall?’

‘Well, if you’re interested in vengeance, I suggest you find a few thousand friends first. There will be a reckoning, eventually.’

The look-out snorted. ‘The Waiting Man wants us to wait.’

Bugg shrugged. ‘The best I can do. To oust this beast, the Ceda himself would have to come down here.’

‘So send for him!’

‘I’m afraid I don’t possess that sort of clout. Go home, all of you.’

Bugg moved past them and made his way down the alley. Things were getting decidedly complicated. And that was never good. He wondered how many more creatures were escaping the barrows. From the Pack’s words, not many. Which was a relief.

Even so, he decided, he’d better see for himself. The rendezvous awaiting him would have to wait a little longer. That would likely earn him an earful, but it couldn’t be helped. The Seventh Closure was shaping up to be eventful. He wondered if that prophecy, of empire reborn, was in some way linked to the death of the Azath tower. He hoped not.

The night was surprisingly quiet. The usual crowds that appeared once the day’s heat was past were virtually absent as Bugg made his way down the length of Quillas Canal. He came within sight of the Eternal Domicile. Well, he reminded himself, at least that had been a success.

The Royal Engineer, aptly named Grum, had been a reluctant, envious deliverer of a royal contract, specifying Bugg’s Construction to assume control of shoring up the compromised wings of the new palace. He had been even less pleased when Bugg ordered the old crews to vacate, taking their equipment with them. Bugg had then spent most of the following day wading flooded tunnels, just to get a feel of the magnitude of the task ahead.

True to Tehol’s prediction, Bugg’s modest company was climbing in the Tolls, frighteningly fast. Since the list of shares was sealed, Bugg had managed to sell four thousand and twenty-two per cent of shares, and still hold a controlling interest. Of course, he’d be headlining the Drownings if the deceit was ever discovered. ‘But I’m prepared to take that risk,’ Tehol had said with a broad smile. Funny man, his master.

Nearing the old palace, then into the wending alleyways and forgotten streets behind it. This part of the city seemed virtually lifeless, no-one venturing outside. Stray dogs paused in their scavenging to watch him pass. Rats scurried from his path.

He reached the wall of the square tower, walked along it until he was at the gateway. A pause, during which he wilfully suppressed his nervousness at entering the grounds. The Azath was dead, after all. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he strode forward.

The barrows to either side were strangely crumpled, but he could see no gaping holes. Yet. He left the path. Insects crunched or squirmed underfoot. The tufts of grass looked macerated and were crawling with life.

Bugg arrived at one barrow where the near side was gone, in its place a black pit across which was the toppled bole of a dead tree. There was the sound of scrabbling from within.

Then Kettle clambered into view. Clumps of white worms writhed in her straggly, matted hair, rode seething on her shoulders. She pulled herself up using a branch of the tree, then paused to brush the worms off, the gesture dainty and oddly affecting. ‘It’s gone,’ she said. ‘Uncle Bugg, this one’s gone.’

‘I know.’

‘I didn’t see it. I should have seen it.’

He shook his head. ‘It is very stealthy, Kettle. And fast. All it needed was a moment when your back was turned. A single moment, no more. In any case, I’ve met it, and, for now at least, it won’t be bothering anyone.’

‘Nothing’s working, Uncle Bugg. I need the one below. I need to get him out.’

‘What is impeding him, do you know?’

She shook her head, the motion shedding more worms. ‘At least he’s got swords now. Uncle Brys brought them. I pushed them into the barrow.’

‘Brys Beddict? Lass, you are finding worthy allies. Has the Ceda visited?’

‘I don’t know any Ceda.’

‘I am surprised by that. He should come soon, once he finds out about you.’

‘Me?’

‘Well, more specifically, your heart.’

She cocked her head. ‘I hear thumps. In my chest. Is that my heart?’

‘Yes. How often are the thumps coming?’

‘Maybe eight a day. Now. Before, maybe four. To start, once. Loud, hurting my head.’

‘Hurting? You are feeling pain, lass?’

‘Not so much any more. Aches. Twinges. That’s how I know something’s wrong with me. Used to be I didn’t feel anything.’

Bugg ran a hand through his thinning hair. He looked up, studied the night sky. Cloud-covered, but the clouds were high, flat and un-wrinkled, a worn blanket through which stars could be seen here and there. He sighed. ‘All right, lass, show me where you buried the swords.’

He followed her to a barrow closer to the tower.

‘He’s in this one.’

But the manservant’s gaze was drawn to an identical barrow beside the one she indicated. ‘Now, who does that one belong to, I wonder.’

‘She’s always promising me things. Rewards. The five who are killing all the others won’t go near her. Sometimes, her anger burns in my head like fire. She’s very angry, but not at me, she says. Those bitches, she says, and that tells me she’s sleeping, because she only says that when she’s sleeping. When she’s awake, she whispers nice things to me.’

Bugg was slowly nodding. ‘It sounds absurd,’ he said, mostly to himself. ‘Absurd and mundane.’

‘What does, Uncle?’

‘She’s got him by the ankles. I know. It’s ridiculous, but that’s why he’s having trouble getting out. She’s got him by the ankles.’

‘To keep him where he is?’

‘No. To make sure she follows him out.’

‘She’s cheating!’

Despite his unease, Bugg smiled. ‘So she is, lass. Of course, she may only end up keeping both of them trapped.’

‘Oh no, he’s got the swords now. He just has to work them down. That’s what he said. I didn’t understand before, but I do now. He said he was going to do some sawing.’

Bugg winced.

Then he frowned. ‘The five, how close are they to escaping?’

Kettle shrugged. ‘They’ve killed most everything else. I don’t know. Soon, I guess. They are going to do terrible things to me, they say.’

‘Be sure to call for help before they get out.’

‘I will.’

‘I have to be going now.’

‘Okay. Goodbye, Uncle.’

Awakened by one of the Preda’s corporals, Brys quickly dressed and followed the young soldier to the Campaigns Room, where he found King Ezgara Diskanar, the Ceda, Unnutal Hebaz and the First Concubine Nisall. The king and his mistress stood at one side of a map table, opposite the Preda. Kuru Qan paced a circle around the entire ensemble, removing his strange eye-lenses for a polish every now and then.

‘Finadd,’ Unnutal Hebaz said, ‘join us, please.’

‘What has happened?’ Brys asked.

‘We are, it seems, at war,’ the Preda replied. ‘I am about to inform the king of the disposition of our forces at present.’