Trull angled over towards it as they reached the bridge. He crouched down. ‘It seems well sealed,’ he said, reaching out to pry the clasp loose, then lifting the lid. ‘That’s odd. Looks like clay pots. Small ones ...’

Onrack moved up alongside the Tiste Edur. ‘They are Moranth munitions, Trull Sengar.’

The Tiste Edur glanced up. ‘I have no knowledge of such things.’

‘Weapons. Explosive when the clay breaks. They are generally thrown. As far as is possible. Have you heard of the Malazan Empire?’

‘No.’

‘Human. From my birth realm. These munitions belong to that empire.’

‘Well, that is troubling indeed – for why are they here?’

‘I do not know.’

Trull Sengar closed the lid and collected the box. ‘While I would prefer a sword, these will have to do. I was not pleased at being unarmed for so long.’

‘There is a structure beyond – an arch.’

Straightening, the Tiste Edur nodded. ‘Aye. It is what we seek.’

They continued on.

The arch stood on pedestals in the centre of a cobbled square. Floodwaters had carried silt to its mouth where it had dried in strange, jagged ridges. As the two travellers came closer, they discovered that the clay was rock hard. Although the gate did not manifest itself in any discernible way, a pulsing heat rolled from the space beneath the arch.

The pillars of the structure were unadorned. Onrack studied the edifice. ‘What can you sense of this?’ the T’lan Imass asked after a moment.

Trull Sengar shook his head, then approached. He halted within arm’s reach of the gate’s threshold. ‘I cannot believe this is passable – the heat pouring from it is scalding.’

‘Possibly a ward,’ Onrack suggested.

‘Aye. And no means for us to shatter it.’

‘Untrue.’

The Tiste Edur glanced back at Onrack, then looked down at the box tucked under his arm. ‘I do not understand how a mundane explosive could destroy a ward.’

‘Sorcery depends on patterns, Trull Sengar. Shatter the pattern and the magic fails.’

‘Very well, let us attempt this thing.’

They retreated twenty paces from the gate. Trull unlatched the box and gingerly drew forth one of the clay spheres. He fixed his gaze on the gate, then threw the munition.

The explosion triggered a coruscating conflagration from the portal. White and gold fires raged beneath the arch, then the violence settled back to form a swirling golden wall.

‘That is the warren itself,’ Onrack said. ‘The ward is broken. Still, I do not recognize it.’

‘Nor I,’ Trull muttered, closing the munitions box once more. Then his head snapped up. ‘Something’s coming.’

‘Yes.’ Onrack was silent then for a long moment. He suddenly lifted his sword. ‘Flee, Trull Sengar – back across the bridge. Flee!’

The Tiste Edur spun and began running.