‘Runti born… wrong,’ said Helena. ‘Ashwings seen flying backwards across the sky, which I wouldn’t have believed but for the fact that I saw it myself just this morning. The poor thing took to the wing, shot backwards on itself with a cry of alarm and struck the blockhouse window hard enough to leave a blood smear. It was most unsettling. The lightning shrines on the mountainsides have started to rust, so badly in some cases that they’ve collapsed. We’ve had actual lightning strikes on city buildings for the first time in years. Then there are the dreams.’

‘The eyes that see into your soul,’ said Eleanora without looking up from the bulky nest of gears and wiring she was working on.

Aelyn looked around at the engineer in surprise, as did all her comrades. Eleanora continued to tinker, oblivious to their stares.

‘How did you know that?’ asked Helena.

‘I saw them too, last night,’ said Eleanora, not looking up from her work.

‘Why did you not tell us this?’ Romilla asked in a concerned voice at the same time as Helena said, ‘You’ve seen them too? Outside the city?’

Eleanora looked from Romilla to Helena and back.

‘I didn’t feel safe,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want the eyes to come back while I was awake. And I thought if I mentioned it then you might decide not to come here, and then I might not get access to a workshop…’ she trailed off miserably, clearly remembering that she was no closer to that goal.

‘It’s all a bit vague, isn’t it?’ mused Bartiman. ‘Alarming, certainly! But how does it all tie together?’

‘Not our problem,’ said Borik. ‘We have a job to finish and neither business nor pay here. The moment those gates open, we leave.’

‘It may well be our problem, if whatever is coming happens before the gates open,’ said Bartiman.

‘And I can tell you now those gates will not open again until whatever threat we face has been dealt with,’ said Helena. ‘Though how precisely I’m meant to deal with a threat I can’t place or understand, Sigmar only knows…’

‘There are always routes in or out,’ said Borik, glowering. ‘Hendrick, this is hullrust, we should be about our business and you know it.’

‘Try it, duardin,’ said Helena. ‘You’ll be in the scald-cells before nightfall tomorrow.’

‘Look. Perhaps we could be of aid?’ asked Romilla. ‘As Bartiman says, we’re stuck here anyway, and we’ve skills that might be of use to you. If there really is a threat to Sigmar’s subjects…’

‘What skills, precisely?’ asked Helena. ‘You’ll excuse me, but so far I’ve done most of the talking and frankly, you don’t look like any mercenaries I’ve seen before. Normally they have numbers, swords a-plenty and faces like an Ogor’s knucklebones. You’re… unconventional.’