Not only were there no more Emperors before them, there was no road at all. A dizzy drop yawned out of the earth, a mighty crack in the fabric of the city. Squinting across, Jezal could just see the far side, a cliff of broken rock and crumbled mud. Beyond were the faint wraiths of walls and pillars, the outline of the wide avenue, melting out of sight and back as the rain swept through the empty air between.

Longfoot cleared his throat. 'I take it we will not be carrying on this way.'

Ever so carefully Jezal leaned from his saddle and peered down. Far below dark water moved, foaming and churning, washing at the tortured ground beneath the foundations of the city, and out of this subterranean sea stuck broken walls, and shattered towers, and the cracked open shells of monstrous buildings. At the top of one tottering column a statue still stood, some hero long dead. His hand must once have been raised in triumph. Now it stuck up in desperation, as if he was pleading for someone to drag him from his watery hell.

Jezal sat back, feeling suddenly dizzy. 'We will not be carrying on this way,' he managed to croak.

Bayaz frowned grimly down at the grinding water. 'Then we must find another, and quickly. The city is full of these cracks. We have miles to go even on a straight course, and a bridge to cross.'

Longfoot frowned. 'Providing it still stands.'

'It still stands! Kanedias built to last.' The First of the Magi peered up into the rain. The sky was already bruising, a dark weight hanging above their heads. 'We cannot afford to linger. We will not make it through the city before dark as it is.'

Jezal looked up at the Magus, horrified. 'We'll be here overnight?'

'Clearly,' snapped Bayaz, turning his horse away from the brink.

The ruins crowded in tighter around them as they left the Caline Way behind and struck out into the thick of the city. Jezal gazed up at the threatening shadows, looming from the murk. The only thing he could imagine worse than being trapped in this place by day was being kept there in the darkness. He would have preferred to spend the night in hell. But what would have been the difference?

The river surged below them through a man-made canyon—tall embankments of smooth, wet stone. The mighty Aos, imprisoned in that narrow space, foamed with infinite, mindless fury, chewing at the polished rock and spitting angry spray high into the air. Ferro could not imagine how anything could have lasted for long above that deluge, but Bayaz had been right.

The Maker's bridge still stood.

'In all my wide travels, in every city and nation under the bountiful sun, I have never seen such a wonder.' Longfoot slowly shook his shaven head. 'How can a bridge be made from metal?'