‘We’re no use just stood here,’ replied Hendrick. ‘The watch has spent plenty of time guarding holes from what Captain Morthan was saying, but they’ve not sent anyone down one.’

‘I would imagine that is because it looked so very inadvisable to do so,’ said Bartiman.

‘We’ve braved worse,’ said Hendrick.

‘Not out of choice,’ said Bartiman.

‘Morthan hired us because we can do things, brave dangers her watchmen can’t,’ said Hendrick firmly. ‘That begins with delving into evil-looking pits like this to find out who or what has made them. Find your courage, the pair of you, and let’s go. Olt, you’re the best at reading signs and spoor, you lead. Bartiman, give us some light. I’ll take rearguard so that nothing unpleasant can sneak up on you from behind while you’re concentrating on your cantrips.’

Muttering under his breath, Olt shed his cloak and dumped it in the far corner of the chamber, along with his scald-shade. The alchem­ists looked perturbed at his feral appearance, but Olt just favoured them with a wolfish grin. Hendrick and Bartiman followed suit, shedding anything that would act as an encumbrance in the tight confines of the tunnel. Hendrick’s only concession was to leave Reckoner strapped to his back, reasoning that if they found a wider space further down he might have occasion to swing the hammer into the faces of whatever lived there.

‘Are we sure that we don’t want to gather the rest of the Swords first?’ asked Bartiman.

‘We’re just doing a recce, they’ve got their own matters to attend to,’ said Hendrick. ‘If we meet anything we can’t handle we back out fast. And keep your talismans close to hand, this has the reek of Chaos about it to me.’

Olt touched his fingers to his charm tattoos. He unslung his hand axes and picked his way over the spongy mycelium into the tunnel entrance, making little noises of disgust as he did so. Bartiman followed, cupping his hands and muttering an incantation that conjured a ghostly light between them. Hendrick drew a pair of daggers as he followed his comrades into the tunnel. He curled his lip in disgust as the stench intensified, and the crawling mites began to blunder over his feet and up his ankles. The tunnel closed in around him, forcing him to stoop. He found he desperately wanted to avoid the touch of the pallid mycelium against his head and neck.

The three of them shuffled along the tight confines of the passage, taking shallow, disgusted breaths. The light from the Alchemists’ Guild rapidly faded until their only source of illumination was the pallid flickerlight conjured by Bartiman. Things scuttled through that light on swift little legs, their segmented bodies and feathery antennae brushing Hendrick’s legs and arms.

‘Remember what Captain Morthan said about insect attacks,’ he said quietly. ‘Keep an eye on these bugs.’