Turban Orr led the way out to the terrace, Estraysian D'Arle behind him. As Baruk turned to follow he felt a familiar contact of energies at his side. He swung his head and recoiled. 'Good gods, Mammot! Where did you get that hideous mask?'

The old man's eyes held his briefly then shied away. 'An accurate rendition of Jaghut features, I believe,' he said softly. 'Though I think the tusks are a little short.'

Baruk shook himself. 'Have you managed to find your nephew yet?'

'No,' Mammot replied. 'I am deeply worried by that.'

'Well,' the alchemist grunted as they walked outside, 'let's hope that Oponn's luck holds for the lad.'

'Of course,' Mammot murmured.

Whiskeyjack's eyes widened as a crowd of excited guests poured out from the main chamber and gathered on the terrace.

Fiddler scurried to his side. 'It's a duel, Sergeant. The guy with the wine stain on his shirt is one of them, a councilman named Orr. Nobody knows who the other man is. He's over there with that big man in the dragon mask.'

The sergeant had been leaning, arms crossed, against one of the marble pillars encircling the fountain, but at seeing the tall dragon-masked figure he came near to toppling into the fountain behind him. 'Hood's Balls!' he cursed. 'Recognize that long silver hair, Fid?'

The saboteur frowned.

'Moon's Spawn,' Whiskeyjack breathed. 'That's the mage, the Lord who stood on that portal and battled Tayschrenn.' He reeled off an impressive list of curses, then added, 'And he's not human.'

Fiddler groaned. 'Tiste Andii. The bastard's found us. We've had it.'

'Shut up.' Whiskeyjack was recovering from his shock. 'Line everybody up the way that Captain Stillis wanted us. Backs to the woods and hands on weapons. Move!'

Fiddler scrambled. The sergeant watched the saboteur round up his men. Where the hell were Kalam and Paran anyway? He caught Quick Ben's eye and gestured the mage over.

'Fid explained it,' Quick Ben said, leaning close. 'I may not be much use, Sergeant. That barrow-dweller's unleashing waves of nasty stuff. My head feels ready to explode.' He grinned wanly. 'And look around. You can pick out all the mages by the sick looks on their faces. If we all accessed our Warrens, we'd be fine.'

'Then why don't you?'

The wizard grimaced. 'That Jaghut would fix on us as if we were a beacon of fire. And he'd take the weaker ones – even from this distance, he'd take them. And then there'd be hell to pay.'