Whiskeyjack shrugged, removing the strange contraption from the table. 'Things change, Corporal. When Dujek got the Adjunct's word on next year's reinforcements, it became obvious that someone was ensuring that the Genabackan Campaign would end in disaster. Now, even Dujek won't tolerate that. Obviously, plans would have to be revised.' He faced Paran, his eyes hardening. 'I'm sorry, Captain, but Lorn has to live.'

'But the High Fist—'

Whiskeyjack shook his head. 'She's on her way into the city, assuming that she and the Imass succeed in freeing the Jaghut. The Tyrant will need a reason to come to Darujhistan, and we can only assume that, somehow, Lorn will be that reason. She will find us, Captain. Once that happens, we'll decide what's to be done with her, depending on what she tells us. If you challenge her openly, she will kill you. If necessary, she will have to die, but her demise will be subtle. Do you have problems with any of this?'

Paran released a long breath. 'Can you at least explain why you went ahead and mined the city?'

'In a moment,' Whiskeyjack said, rising. 'First,' he said, 'who's the wounded man?'

'Not wounded any more,' Mallet said, grinning at Paran. 'Just sleeping.'

Paran also rose. 'In that case, I'll also explain everything. Just let me go downstairs and retrieve my sword.' At the door he paused and turned to Whiskeyjack. 'One more thing. Where's your recruit, Sorry?'

Kalam answered, 'Missing. We know what she is, Captain. Do you?'

'Yes.' But she may not be what she once was, assuming Shadowthrone didn't lie. He thought to relate that part of his story, then dismissed the notion. He couldn't be sure, after all. Better to wait and see.

The burial chamber proved to be a small, nondescript beehive tomb, the low dome constructed of roughly dressed stones. The passageway leading to it was narrow and less than four feet high, sloping slightly downwards. The chamber's floor was of packed earth and in its centre rose a circular wall of stones, capped by a single, massive lintel stone. Frost-crusted objects lay on this flat surface.

Tool swung to the Adjunct. 'The object you seek is called a Finnest. Within it is stored the Jaghut Tyrant's powers. It is perhaps best described as a self-contained Omtose Phellack Warren. He will discover it is missing once fully awakened, and will unerringly hunt it down.'

Lorn blew on her numb hands, then slowly approached the lintel stone. 'And while it's in my possession?' she asked.

'Your Otataral sword will deaden its aura. Not completely. The Finnest should not remain in your hands for long, Adjunct.'