‘Hard to say, Dujek. This gathering of Plan Imass is worrying, especially when she asserts that we’ll all need those undead warriors when we take on the Pannion Domin. High Fist, we don’t know enough about our enemy—’

‘That will change – have you instructed Quick Ben on initiating contact with that mercenary company in Capustan?’

‘He’s worked something out. We’ll see if they take the bait.’

‘Back to Silverfox, Whiskeyjack. Tattersail was a solid ally – a friend—’

‘She’s there, in this Rhivi child. Paran and she have ... spoken.’ He fell silent for a moment, then sighed, his eyes on the tankard in his hands. ‘Things have yet to unfold, so we’ll just have to wait and see.’

‘Any creature that so devours its parent. . .’

‘Aye, but then again, whenever have the T’lan Imass shown a speck of compassion? They’re undead, soulless and let’s face it, once-allies or not, damned horrific. They were on the Emperor’s leash and no-one else’s. Fighting alongside them back in Seven Cities was not a comforting experience – we both know that, Dujek.’

‘Expedience always comes arm-in-arm with discomfort,’ the High Fist muttered. ‘And now they’re back, only this time they’re on a child’s leash ...’

Whiskeyjack grunted. ‘That’s a curious observation, but I see what you mean. Kellanved showed ... restraint with the T’lan Imass, discounting that mess at Aren. Whereas a child, born of ravaged souls within the warren of Tellann, acquiring such power . . .’

‘And how many children have you met capable of showing restraint? Tattersail’s wisdom needs to come to the fore, and soon.’

‘We’ll do all we can, Dujek.’

The old man sighed, then nodded. ‘Now, your sense of our newfound allies?’

‘The departure of the Crimson Guard is a blow,’ Whiskeyjack said. ‘A disparate collection of dubious mercenaries and hangers-on in their place signifies a drop in quality. The Mott Irregulars are the best of the bunch, but that’s not saying a whole lot. The Rhivi and Barghast are solid enough, as we both know, and the Tiste Andii are unequalled. Still, Brood needs us. Badly.’

‘Perhaps more than we need him and his forces, aye,’ Dujek said. ‘In a normal kind of war, that is.’

‘Rake and Moon’s Spawn are Brood’s true shaved knuckles in the hole. High Fist, with the T’lan Imass joined to our cause, I cannot see any force on this continent or any other that could match us. God knows, we could annex half the continent—’

‘Could we now?’ Dujek grinned sourly. ‘Stow that thought, old friend, stow it deep so it never again sees the light of day. We’re about to march off and sword-kiss a tyrant – what happens afterwards is a discussion that will have to await another time. Right now, we’re both edging around a deadly pit—’

‘Aye, we are. Kallor.’

‘Kallor.’

‘He will try to kill the child,’ Whiskeyjack said.