'About what you had expected?' Hedge asked, clambering back aboard the carriage.

'Wasn't sure,' Paran replied. 'Five… or seven. Well, now I know. The two shadow hounds from Dragnipur found their… counterparts, and so were reunited. Then, it seems, someone freed them.'

'Something paid us a visit,' Hedge said, 'the night us ghosts annihilated the Dogslayers. Into Sha'ik's camp.'

Paran turned to regard the ghost. 'You haven't mentioned this before, sapper.'

'Well, they didn't last long anyway.'

'What in Hood's name do you mean, they didn't last long?'

'I mean, someone killed them.'

'Killed them? Who? Did a god visit that night? One of the First Heroes? Or some other ascendant?'

Hedge was scowling. 'This is all second-hand, mind you, but from what I gathered, it was Toblakai. One of Sha'ik's bodyguards, a friend of Leoman's. Afraid I don't know much about him, just the name, or, I suppose, title, since it's not a real name-'

'A bodyguard named Toblakai killed two Deragoth hounds?'

The ghost shrugged, then nodded. 'Aye, that's about right, Captain.'

Paran drew off his helm and ran a hand through his hair – gods below, do I need a bath – then returned his attention to the distant statues and the intervening lowlands. 'Those lakes look shallow – we should have no trouble getting there.'

The carriage door opened and the Jaghut sorceress Ganath emerged. She eyed the black stone monuments. 'Dessimbelackis. One soul made seven – he believed that would make him immortal. An ascendant eager to become a god-'

'The Deragoth are far older than Dessimbelackis,' Paran said.

'Convenient vessels,' she said. 'Their kind were nearly extinct. He found the few last survivors and made use of them.'

Paran grunted, then said, 'That was a mistake. The Deragoth had their own history, their own story and it was not told in isolation.'

'Yes,' Ganath agreed, 'the Eres'al, who were led unto domestication by the Hounds that adopted them. The Eres'al, who would one day give rise to the Imass, who would one day give rise to humans.'

'As simple as that?' Hedge asked.

'No, far more complicated,' the Jaghut replied, 'but for our purposes, it will suffice.'

Paran returned to his horse. 'Almost there – I don't want any more interruptions – so let's get going, shall we?'

The water they crossed stank with decay, the lake bottom thick with black mud and, it turned out, starfish-shaped leeches. The train of horses struggled hard to drag the carriage through the sludge, although it was clear to Paran that Karpolan Demesand was using sorcery to lighten the vehicle in some way. Low mudbanks ribboning the lake afforded momentary respite, although these were home to hordes of biting insects that swarmed hungrily as the shareholders came down from the carriage to pull leeches from horse-legs. One such bank brought them close to the far shore, separated only by a narrow channel of sluggish water that they crossed without difficulty.

Before them was a long, gentle slope of mud-streaked gravel. Reaching the summit slightly ahead of the carriage, Paran reined in.

Nearest him, two huge pedestals surrounded in rubble marked where statues had once been. In the eternally damp mud around them were tracks, footprints, signs of some kind of scuffle. Immediately beyond rose the first of the intact monuments, the dull black stone appallingly lifelike in its rendition of hide and muscle. At its base stood a structure of some kind.

The carriage arrived, and Paran heard the side door open. Shareholders were leaping down to establish a defensive perimeter.

Dismounting, Paran walked towards the structure, Hedge coming up alongside him.

'Someone built a damned house,' the sapper said.

'Doesn't look lived in.'

'Not now, it don't.'

Constructed entirely from driftwood, the building was roughly rectangular, the long sides parallel to the statue's pedestal. No windows were visible, nor, from this side, any entrance. Paran studied it for a time, then headed towards one end. 'I don't think this was meant as a house,' he said. 'More like a temple.'

'Might be right – that driftwood makes no joins and there ain't no chinking or anything to fill the gaps. A mason would look at this and say it was for occasional use, which makes it sound more like a temple or a corral…'

They reached one end and saw a half-moon doorway. Branches had been set in rows in the loamy ground before it, creating a sort of walkway.

Muddy feet had trod its length, countless sets, but none very recent.

'Wore leather moccasins,' Hedge observed, crouching close to study the nearest prints. 'Seams were topside except at the back of the heel where there's a cross-stitch pattern. If this was Genabackis, I'd say Rhivi, except for one thing.'

'What?' Paran asked.

'Well, these folk have wide feet. Really wide.'

The ghost's head slowly turned towards the building's entrance. '

Captain, someone died in there.'

Paran nodded. 'I can smell it.'

They looked over as Ganath and Karpolan Demesand – the latter flanked by the two Pardu shareholders – approached. The Trygalle merchant-mage made a face as the foul stench of rotting meat reached him. He scowled over at the open doorway. 'The ritual spilling of blood,' he said, then uncharacteristically spat. 'These Deragoth have found worshippers. Master of the Deck, will this detail prove problematic?'

'Only if they show up,' Paran said. 'After that, well, they might end up having to reconsider their faith. This could prove tragic for them…'

'Are you reconsidering?' Karpolan asked.

'I wish I had that luxury. Ganath, will you join me in exploring the interior of the temple?'

Her brows rose fractionally, then she nodded. 'Of course. I note that darkness rules within – do you have need for light?'

'It wouldn't hurt.'

Leaving the others, they walked side by side towards the doorway. In a low voice, Ganath said, 'You suspect as I do, Ganoes Paran.'

'Yes.'

'Karpolan Demesand is no fool. He will realize before long.'

'Yes.'

'Then we should display brevity in our examination.'

'Agreed.'

Reaching the doorway, Ganath gestured and a dull, bluish light slowly rose in the chamber beyond.

They stepped within.

A single room – no inner walls. The floor was mud, packed by traffic.

A shattered, up-ended tree-stump dominated the centre, the roots reaching out almost horizontally, as if the tree had grown on flat bedrock, sending its tendrils out to all sides. In the centre of this makeshift altar the core of the bole itself had been carved into a basin shape, filled now by a pool of black, dried blood. Bound spreadeagled to outstretched roots were two corpses, both women, once bloated by decay but now rotted into gelatinous consistency as if melting, bones protruding here and there. Dead maggots lay in heaps beneath each body.

'Sedora Orr,' Paran surmised, 'and Darpareth Vayd.'

'That seems a reasonable assumption,' Ganath said. 'The Trygalle sorceress must have been injured in some way, given her stated prowess.'

'Well, that carriage was a mess.'

'Indeed. Have we seen enough, Ganoes Paran?'

'Blood ritual – an Elder propitiation. I would think the Deragoth have been drawn near.'

'Yes, meaning you have little time once you have effected their release.'

'I hope Karpolan is up to this.' He glanced over at the Jaghut. 'In a true emergency, Ganath, can you… assist?'

'Perhaps. As you know, I am not pleased with what you intend here.

What would please me even less, however, is being torn apart by Hounds of Darkness.'

'I share that aversion. Good. So, if I call upon your assistance, Ganath, you will know what to do?'

'Yes.'

Paran turned about. 'It may sound unreasonable,' he said, 'but my sympathy for the likely plight of these worshippers has diminished somewhat.'