The Grey Swords were not part of this. Indeed, they were neutral observers, but Itkovian could not help adding his silent will to Hetan’s cause.

The Destriant withdrew to Brukhalian’s side, casually glanced over and met Itkovian’s eyes.

The Shield Anvil responded with the faintest of nods.

Karnadas’s eyes widened, then he sighed.

Aye. The Barghast gambit. Generations of pilgrims . . . long before the coming of the Capon and Daru, long before the settlement was born. Barghast do not normally honour their dead in such a manner. No, the bones hidden here – somewhere – are not simply the bones of some dead warchief or shoulder-man. These bones belong to someone . . . profoundly important. Valued so highly that the sons and daughters of countless generations journeyed to their legendary resting place. Thus, one significant truth . . . which leads to the next one.

Hetan trembles. The Barghast spirits. . . tremble. They have been lost – made blind by the desecration. For so long . . . lost. Those holiest of remains . . . and the Barghast themselves were never certain – never certain that they were here, in this earth in this place, were never certain that they existed at all.

The mortal remains of their spirit-gods.

And Hetan is about to find them. Humbrall Tour’s long-held suspicion . . . Humbrall Tour’s audacious – no, outrageous – gambit. ‘Find me the bones of the Founding Families, daughter Hetan.’

The White Face clans knew that the Domin would come for them, once Capustan fell. There would, in truth, be war. Yet the clans had never before been unified – the ancient blood-feuds and rivalries ever gnawed from within. Humbrall Taur needed those ancient holy remains. To raise as a standard. To knit the clans together – all feuds forgotten.

But Hetan is too late. Even if she wins, here, now, she is too late. Take the mortal remains, dear, by all means – but how will you get them out of Capustan? How will you get through rank upon rank of Pannion soldiers?

Rath’Queen of Dreams’s voice cut through his thoughts. ‘Very well. Hetan, daughter of Humbrall Taur, we accede to your request. We return to you the mortal remains of your ancestors.’ She slowly rose and gestured to her Gidrath captain. The soldier stepped close and she began whispering instructions. After a moment the man nodded and exited through the door behind him. The masked woman turned once again to the Barghast. ‘Some effort will be required in ... reaching the resting place. With your permission, we would like to speak with Mortal Sword Brukhalian in the meantime, on matters pertaining to the defence of this city.’

Hetan scowled, then shrugged. ‘As you wish. But our patience is short.’

The Queen of Dreams mask shifted into a smile. ‘You shall be able to witness the extrication yourself, Hetan.’

The Barghast woman stepped back from the Navel.

‘Approach, Mortal Sword,’ Rath’Hood rumbled. ‘Sword sheathed, this time.’