Quick Ben spoke names in a soft voice as they proceeded. ‘Shank ... Toes ... Detoran ... Aimless ... Runter ... Mulch ... Bucklund ... Story ... Liss ... Dasalle ... Trotts – uh, I would’ve thought the Barghast ... no, I suppose not. He was as much a Bridgeburner as the rest of us. Behind that lid, Paran, he’s still grinning ...’

As they walked, Quick Ben spoke aloud every name of those they passed. Thirty-odd Bridgeburners, Paran’s fallen command.

They reached the dais.

And could go no further. Sorcery commanded the entire platform, a softly coruscating web of Kurald Galain.

‘Rake’s own hand,’ the wizard murmured. ‘These ... spells. He worked alone.’

Paran nodded. He had heard the same from Picker, but he understood Quick Ben’s need to talk, to fill the chamber with his echoing voice.

‘It was his leg, you know. Gave out at the wrong moment. Probably a lunge ... meaning he had Kallor. Had him dead. He would never have extended himself so fully otherwise. That damned leg. Shattered in that garden in Darujhistan. A marble pillar, toppling... and Whiskeyjack was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

‘From then ... to this.’

And now, Picker and the others are watching Mallet. Every moment, someone’s hovering close. The healer might try to fall on his knife at any time . . . given the chance. Ah, Mallet, he kept pushing you away. ‘Another time, I’ve too much on my mind right now. Nothing more than a dull ache. When this is done, we’ll get to it, then.’ It wasn’t your fault, Mallet. Soldiers die.

He watched Quick Ben remove a small pebble from his pouch and lay it on the floor in front of the dais. ‘I may want to visit later,’ he said, offering Paran a faint, sad smile. ‘Me and Kalam ...’

Oh, Wizard . . .

Paran lifted his gaze to the three sarcophagi. He did not know which one held whom. For some reason, that didn’t matter much. Whiskeyjack and two marines – they were there for Tattersail, at the last.

Always an even exchange, sorceress.

‘I am ready to leave them, now, Captain.’

Paran nodded.

They turned and slowly retraced their steps.

Reaching the arched entrance, they stopped.

Quick Ben glanced into the hallway. ‘They left everything, you know.’

‘What? Who?’

‘Rake. The Tiste Andii. Left their possessions. Everything.’

‘Why would they do that? They are to settle in Black Coral, aren’t they? The city’s been stripped clean ...’

Quick Ben shrugged. ‘Tiste Andii,’ he said, in a tone that silently added: we’ll never know.

A vague portal took shape before them.

The wizard grunted. ‘You’ve certainly a particular style with these things, Captain.’

Yes, the style of awkward ignorance. ‘Step through, Wizard.’

He watched Quick Ben vanish within the portal. Then Paran turned, one last time, to look upon the chamber. The globe of light was fast dimming.