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.’

‘And what is your name, if I may ask?’

‘Well, Torvald Nom, there’s no easy answer to that question. Locally, I’m known as Ba’ienrok, which is Ehrlii for “Keeper”. Beyond that, in the fierce and unpleasant world, I’m not known at all, except as someone who died long ago, and that’s how I plan on keeping it. So, Ba’ienrok or Keeper, take your pick.’

‘Keeper, then. What is in this tea? There are flavours I do not recognize, and from someone born and raised in Darujhistan, that detail alone is close to impossible.’

‘A collection of local plants,’ Keeper replied. ‘Don’t know their names, don’t know their properties, but I like their taste. I long ago weeded out the ones that made me sick.’

‘Delighted to hear that,’ Torvald said. ‘Well, you seem to know a lot about that fierce and unpleasant world out there. Daru, Teblor... That wrecked boat down below, was that yours?’

Keeper slowly rose. ‘Now you’re making me nervous, Torvald. It’s not good when I get nervous.’

‘Uh, I’ll ask no more questions, then.’