The sleeping chambers ran the length of one wall, small square, low-ceilinged rooms, unfurnished except for narrow hide-mattressed cots and a lantern sitting on a shelf on one wall. A room at the far end of the hallway was provided for communal bathing, its floors tiled and sunken at gradating levels in the various pools, the water continually flowing and cool and clean.

Leaving the lady to her ablutions, Toc entered his sleeping chamber and set his pack down with a sigh. His nerves were already in tatters, and listening to Envy’s melodic singing wasn’t helping. He threw himself on the cot. Sleep? Impossible. These bastards are whetting their knives right now, preparing our reward. We’re about to embrace the faith, and its face is a death’s head ...

His eye snapped open at a sudden, curdling scream. It was dark – the lanterns had either gone out or been removed. Toc realized he’d fallen asleep after all, and that had the stench of sorcery. The scream sounded again, ending in a dwindling gurgle.

Claws clicked down the hallway outside his room.

Covered in sweat yet shivering, Toc the Younger edged off the bed. He drew the broad-bladed obsidian dagger Tool had made for him, settled the hide-wrapped grip in his right hand, then unsheathed his own iron knife with his left.

Claws. Either there’s Soletaken here ... or Baaljagg and Garath are paying a visit. He silently prayed it was the latter.

A crash of masonry made him jump, a wall tumbling into ruin somewhere close. Someone whimpered, then squealed as bones snapped. The sound of a body being dragged just outside his door had Toc crouching low, knives trembling.

Dark. What in Hood’s name am I supposed to do? I can’t see a damned thing!

The door splintered in its frame under the impact of some large body. As the report echoed, the door fell inward . . . beneath the weight of a naked corpse faintly illuminated by low light coming from the hallway.

A massive head slid into view, eyes dully glowing.

Toc loosed a shuddering sigh. ‘Baaljagg,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve grown since I last saw you.’

The ay, after the briefest pause of mutual recognition, lumbered past the doorway. Toc watched the full length of the beast’s body slide by, then he followed.

The hallway was a shambles. Shattered stone, mangled cots and pieces of flesh everywhere. The walls were painted in splashes of blood and bile. Gods, has this wolf been crashing through arm-length-thick stone walls? How?

Head slung low, claws clacking, Baaljagg padded towards the bathing chamber. Toc moved lightly in the ay’s wake.

Before they arrived a second four-legged shape emerged from a side passage beside the entrance, dark, mottled grey and black, and dwarfing Baaljagg. Coal-lit eyes set in a broad, blood-soaked head slowly fixed on Toc the Younger.

Garath?