‘It was the main doors. I don’t think anyone’s left in the house.’

‘They wouldn’t do that. Why would they do that? We’ve got a hostage!’

‘He’s nothing. Worthless.’

‘If he was yours, Spite, you wouldn’t be saying that. But he’s mine. My slave. My first one, and you can’t have him. I’m ahead of you now and that’s what you hate the most, isn’t it?’

‘I’ll kill him before I let you take him as your slave!’

‘Too late!’

Envy scrambled upright to stand on Wreneck’s chest. She weighed almost nothing. Suddenly angry, Wreneck reached up and grasped Envy’s ankles. He lifted and then pushed her up and over his head. Her shriek was cut short as she collided with her sister. The two fell to fighting again.

Rolling on to his side and then on to his stomach, Wreneck drew his hands and knees under him and pushed himself upright, twisting round to watch the sisters beating at each other with fists and knees.

The girls suddenly ceased their thrashing. Both glared up at him.

‘Kill him now,’ said Spite. ‘If you don’t, I will.’

‘No you won’t. He’s mine.’

‘Just kill him, Envy!’

‘Fine, I will, then.’

At that instant, it seemed that the entire house lurched to one side. Groaning, the stones of the walls spat out grit and dust. Howling filled Wreneck’s skull and he clutched the sides of his head.

Spite’s eyes were suddenly wide. ‘What was that?’

Wreneck forced words past his clenched jaw. ‘The Azathanai,’ he said, finally making out the inchoate screaming of the dying gods. ‘The High Mason, who built this house. And made the Sealed Chamber, though he didn’t know what Draconus wanted it for. Someone’s been feeding what’s been trapped inside that room. Feeding it with bad thoughts, making it stronger. But now the wards are collapsing, and it’s trying to get out.’

Spite loosed a terrified squeal, pulling away from Envy. ‘We have to get out of here!’

She fled up the narrow passage. A moment later, with a final glare back at Wreneck, Envy followed her.

The roar of voices dropped off, leaving only moaning echoes draining like water through Wreneck’s thoughts. Nauseous, one shoulder rubbing against the stone wall, he set off in the direction opposite that taken by the sisters.

The Azathanai was the only person in the house barring Wreneck, Envy and Spite. Everyone else was gone. The dying gods began muttering again, urging him onward. He reached a junction in the passageway and saw thin lines of light on the wall opposite. A moment’s fumbling in the gloom found the latch. With a click the door opened, grating on stone ball-joints, revealing a room beyond that Wreneck was unfamiliar with. He stumbled in, letting the door swing back.

Still dazed, he looked round. A low, long table dominated the centre of the chamber, hewn from a single block of wood, with gutters carved down the length of its long sides. Small buckets hung from hooks at the corners. Along one wall were a half-dozen rows of pegs, from which depended small iron tools – small-bladed knives, gouges, wood-handled saws, clamps and awls.