‘Of course I used you, it’s my duty,’ Morthan retorted. ‘What, you think I just make a personal exception for every band of vagrants that appears at the city gates with some fantastical excuse for why they should be allowed entry? You think those bargemen haven’t assured the militia on the rivergate that their cargo is absolutely essential to the city’s survival? It is my job–’

‘Our warning is essential to–’ Romilla interrupted.

Morthan raised her voice and spoke over her.

‘It is my job to deal with threats to the security of this city, and to make use of whatever resources are at my disposal to neutralise any dangers within the walls. Arch-Lector Hessam Kayl and his militia watch for dangers from outside, my watchmen keep the inside safe. That’s the deal. That’s what Sigmar expects of me. It’s not like we’ve got a Stormkeep sat in the heart of the city – a brotherhood or two of Stormcasts just ready to sweep out and save our arses every time something goes wrong, is it?’

‘You don’t feel that you’re holding up your end,’ said Bartiman, sipping at his tumbler of dark spirits.

‘The regent militant simply will not see the danger,’ said Morthan, the words escaping her like an exhaled breath too long held. ‘I shouldn’t say such a thing out loud, especially not to the likes of you, but there it is.’

‘Precisely what danger do you think threatens?’ asked Bartiman. Aelyn thought he sounded intrigued.

‘I… a Chaos cult? Some hidden cabal? Sigmar’s throne, a curse, maybe? You’re the ones with the warning, I hoped you might know,’ said Morthan in frustration, taking another swig.

‘My brother died for that warning,’ said Hendrick, and Aelyn tensed as she heard how dangerously low his voice had dropped. Ten years she had known Hendrick, a long time by human standards, and she had come to know his temper’s tells very well. ‘My brother died, and we brought his last words here to those who needed to hear them so that his death would mean something. Then you snatched us up and paraded us in front of that man as part of an ongoing feud. You must have known it would prejudice him against our words.’

Captain Morthan had become still and moved her hands away from her drink, down towards whatever weapons she wore at her belt. Good at reading people, Aelyn wondered, or just professionally paranoid? The waywatcher adjusted her own stance so that she could drive a knife through the captain’s wrist if she went for her gun.

‘Your warning had resonance with everything we’ve been going through here,’ she said carefully. ‘I genuinely believed that even Selvador would listen.’