The suns were burning through the clouds, their combined heat filling the air with humidity. The overcast was shredding apart, vanishing before their very eyes. Onrack studied the blazing orbs once more. ‘There has been no night,’ he said.

‘Not in the summer, no. The winters, it’s said, are another matter. At the same time, with the deluge I suspect it is fruitless to predict what will come. Personally, I have no wish to find out.’

‘We must leave this wall,’ the T’lan Imass said after a moment.

‘Aye, before it collapses entirely. I think I can see hills in the distance.’

‘If you have the strength, clasp your arms about me,’ Onrack said, ‘and I will climb down. We can skirt the basins. If any local animals survived, they will be on higher ground. Do you wish to collect and cook more from this beast?’

‘No. It is less than palatable.’

‘That is not surprising, Trull Sengar. It is a carnivore, and has fed long on rotting flesh.’

The ground was sodden underfoot when they finally reached the base of the wall. Swarms of insects rose around them, closing on the Tiste Edur with frenzied hunger. Onrack allowed his companion to set the pace as they made their way between the water-filled basins. The air was humid enough to sheathe their bodies, soaking through the clothing they wore. Although there was no wind at ground level, the clouds overhead had stretched into streamers, racing to overtake them then scudding on to mass against the range of hills, where the sky grew ever darker.

‘We are heading right towards a squall,’ Trull muttered, waving his arms about to disperse the midges.

‘When it breaks, this land will flood,’ Onrack noted. ‘Are you capable of increasing your pace?’

‘No.’

‘Then I shall have to carry you.’

‘Carry, or drag?’

‘Which do you prefer?’

‘Carrying seems somewhat less humiliating.’

Onrack returned his sword to its loop in the shoulder harness. Though the warrior was judged tall among his own kind, the Tiste Edur was taller, by almost the length of a forearm. The T’lan Imass had the man sit down on the ground, knees drawn up, then Onrack squatted and slipped one arm beneath Trull’s knees, the other below his shoulder blades. Tendons creaking, the warrior straightened.

‘There’s fresh gouges all around your skull, or what’s left of it at any rate,’ the Tiste Edur noted.

Onrack said nothing. He set forth at a steady jog.

Before long a wind arrived, tumbling down from the hills, growing to such force that the T’lan Imass had to lean forward, his feet thumping along the gravel ridges between the pools.

The midges were quickly swept away.