Following, Lorn at first recoiled at the stench that wafted into her, a stench of air poisoned by centuries of pulsing sorcery, countless wards dispersed by Tool's Tellann powers. She pushed ahead, her eyes fixing on the Imass's broad, tattered back.

They entered the hillside. A rough corridor, leading into darkness, appeared before them. Frost limned the stacked boulders forming the walls and ceiling. As they went further, the air grew bitter cold, stripped of scents, and thick green and white ropes of ice tracked the walls. The floor, which had been frozen, packed earth, became slabs of stone, slick with ice.

Numbness seeped into Lorn's extremities and her face. She saw her breath curl in a white stream, drawn inward to the darkness beyond. The corridor narrowed and she saw strange symbols painted on and within the ice streaking the walls, dull red ochre in colour. These markings brushed something deep inside her – she almost recognized them, but as soon as she concentrated on doing so, the sensation of familiarity vanished.

Tool spoke. 'My people have visited here before,' he said, pausing to look at the Adjunct over one shoulder. 'They added their own wards to those of the Jaghut who imprisoned this Tyrant.'

Lorn was irritated. 'What of it?'

The Imass stared at her in silence, then replied, dully, 'Adjunct, I believe I know the name of this Jaghut Tyrant. I am now beset by doubts. It should not be freed. Yet, like you, I am compelled.'

Lorn's breath caught.

'Adjunct,' Tool continued, 'I acknowledge the ambivalence you have been feeling. I share it. When this is done, I shall leave.'

She was confused. 'Leave?'

Tool nodded. 'Within this tomb, and with what we will do, my vows are ended. They will bind me no longer. Such is the residual power of this sleeping Jaghut. And for that, I am thankful.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'Adjunct, you are welcome to accompany me.'

Lorn opened her mouth, but could think of no immediate reply so shut it again.

'I ask that you consider my offer, Adjunct. I shall journey in search of an answer, and I shall find it.'

Answer? To what? she wanted to ask. Yet something stopped her, a surge of fear that said to her: You don't want to know. Remain ignorant in this. 'Let's get on with it,' she grated.

Tool resumed his march into the darkness.

After a minute Lorn asked, 'How much time is this going to take?'