The man reappeared. ‘Aye, impressive, isn’t it? I’ve collected most of the bastard’s body, too – I should’ve guessed it would be bigger than I’d first thought, but it was the forearms I found, you see, and they’re puny, so there I was picturing a beast no taller than you, Teblor, but with a head of equal size. No wonder they died out, I told myself. Of course, it’s mistakes like these that teach a man to be humble, and Hood knows, this one’s humbled me good. Come inside; I’m brewing some tea.’

Torvald grinned up at Karsa. ‘See what happens when you live alone?’

The two entered the tower.

And were stunned by what awaited them. The tower was hollow, with only a flimsy scaffold projecting out from the seaside wall, just below the lone window. The floor was a thick, crunching carpet of stone chips. Weathered poles reared up on all sides at various angles, joined by crossbeams here and there and festooned with ropes. This wooden framework surrounded the lower half of a stone skeleton, standing upright on two thick-boned legs – reminiscent of a bird’s – with three-toed, hugely taloned feet. The tail was a chain of vertebrae, snaking up one of the walls.

The man was seated near a brick-lined hearth beneath the scaffold, stirring one of the two pots resting in the coals. ‘See my problem? I built the tower thinking there’d be plenty of room to reconstruct this leviathan. But I kept uncovering more and more of those Hood-damned ribs – I can’t even attach the shoulder blades, much less the forearms, neck and head. I was planning on dismantling the tower eventually, anyway, so I could get at the skull. But now all my plans are awry, and I’m going to have to extend the roof, which is tricky. Damned tricky.’

Karsa moved over to the hearth, bent down to sniff at the other pot, wherein a thick, soupy liquid bubbled.

‘Wouldn’t try that,’ the man said. ‘It’s what I use to fix the bones together. Sets harder than the stone itself, takes any weight once it’s cured.’ He found some extra clay cups and ladled the herbal tea into them. ‘Makes good dishware, too.’

Torvald dragged his eyes from the huge skeleton looming over them and approached to collect his cup. ‘I am named Torvald Nom—’

‘Nom? Of the House of Nom? Darujhistan? Odd, I’d figured you for a bandit – before you became a slave, that is.’

Torvald threw Karsa a grimace. ‘It’s these damned shackle scars – we need a change of clothes, something with long sleeves. And moccasins that go up to the knees.’

‘Plenty of escaped slaves about,’ the Napan said, shrugging. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about it.’

‘Where are we?’

‘North coast of Seven Cities. The sea yonder is the Otataral Sea. The forest covering this peninsula is called the A’rath. Nearest city is Ehrlitan, about fifteen days on foot west of here.’