Hendrick squared his shoulders and led the way along the base of the wall, ignoring the stares of curious guards who peered over the top. He stopped before the huge mass of the gatehouse and took a moment to study it. Two blocky towers of iron-banded marble flanked a deep-set archway with a drake’s head crest worked in relief above its keystone. An imposing portcullis closed off this end of the tunnel leading into the city, while further back he could see slab-like inner doors doing the job from the city side. Hendrick could feel the stares of dozens of guards upon him, but he remained silent, as did his followers as they clustered around him.

‘Good luck, friend,’ came a distant shout, and Hendrick glanced over to see one of the bargemen leaning on the rail of his craft. ‘We’ve been waiting out here in the rain for three cheffing days. City’s shut, and they’re more than happy to let my produce rot rather’n open the cheffing rivergate for five minutes.’

Hendrick turned back to the gate, made a show of considering the bargeman’s words and the lack of address from the guards on the ramparts above. Then he cleared his throat and strode up to the portcullis.

‘Hello, up there?’ Hendrick cried. It had been years since his temper had seen him ejected from the ranks of the Freeguild, yet he could still drum up that sergeant’s booming shout when he needed to. He saw shapes move behind the battlements, saw the tops of spears stir. No response. ‘We’ve come with important information for the rulers of your city,’ he tried. ‘We’ve a warning they need to hear.’

Still nothing. Hendrick let out a grunt of annoyance.

‘I’ll try knocking,’ he said.

Hendrick slid Reckoner from its back-scabbard, hefted the massive hammer and swung it at the portcullis. The weapon’s head connected with the iron bars hard enough to send numbing shocks up Hendrick’s arms. The clang of its impact rolled out like a flatly tolling bell. The bargeman’s delighted laughter sounded in its wake.

Bow strings hissed somewhere above, and half a dozen arrows feathered the ground around Hendrick’s feet.

‘Those were a warning,’ came a gruff voice from the battlements. ‘Piss off, baldy. Take your bandit friends with you.’ At his back, Hendrick heard the ratcheting clank of Borik engaging the mechanism of his rotary cannon. The duardin would now have it levelled at the battlements, Hendrick knew, and he was only too aware of how much damage it could do if Borik got the excuse to fire. Still, he waved a placating hand at his companion.