‘At ease, soldier,’ Picker warned. ‘Obviously, the whole damn thing’s been corrupted – probably never worked to start with—’

‘It did! Me and Fid made damned sure—’

‘But it was stolen before you could try it out for real, wasn’t it?’

‘That doesn’t matter – I tell you—’

‘Everybody shut up,’ Spindle said, slowly raising his head, his narrow forehead wrinkled in a frown as he scanned the tabletop. ‘Corrupted. You may have something there, Picker.’ He sniffed the air as if seeking a scent, then crouched down. ‘Yeah. Give me a hand, someone, with these here cots.’

No-one moved.

‘Help him, Hedge,’ Picker ordered.

‘Help him crawl under the table? It’s too late to hide—’

‘That’s an order, soldier.’

Grumbling, the sapper lowered himself down. Together, the two men dragged the cots clear. Then Spindle edged beneath the table. A faint glow of sorcerous light slowly blossomed, then the mage hissed. ‘It’s the underside all right!’

‘Brilliant observation, Spindle. Bet there’s legs, too.’

‘No, you fool. There’s an image painted onto the underside ... one big card, it looks like – only I don’t recognize it.’

Scowling, Hedge joined the mage. ‘What are you talking about? We didn’t paint no image underneath – Hood’s mouldering moccasins, what is that?’

‘Red ochre, is my guess. Like something a Barghast would paint—’

‘Or a Rhivi,’ Hedge muttered. ‘Who’s that figure in the middle – the one with the dog-head on his chest?’

‘How should I know? Anyway, I’d say the whole thing is pretty fresh. Recent, I mean.’

‘Well, rub it off, dammit.’

Spindle crawled back out. ‘Not a chance – the thing’s webbed with wards, and a whole lot else besides.’ He straightened, met Picker’s eyes, then shrugged. ‘It’s a new card. Unaligned, without an aspect. I’d like to make a copy of it, Deck-sized, then try it out with a reading—’

‘Whatever,’ Picker said.

Hedge reappeared, suddenly energized. ‘Good idea, Spin – you could charge for the readings, too. If this new Unaligned plays true, then you could work out the new tensions, the new relationships, and once you know them—’

Spindle grinned. ‘We could run another game. Yeah—’

Detoran groaned. ‘I have lost all my money.’

‘We all have,’ Picker snapped, glaring at the two sappers.

‘It’ll work next time,’ Hedge said. ‘You’ll see.’

Spindle was nodding vigorously.

‘Sorry if we seem to lack enthusiasm,’ Blend drawled.

Picker swung to the Barghast. Trotts, take a look at that drawing.’

The warrior sniffed, then sank down to his hands and knees. Grunting, he made his way under the table. ‘It’s gone dark,’ he said.

Hedge turned to Spindle. ‘Do that light trick again, you idiot.’

The mage sneered at the sapper, then gestured. The glow beneath the table returned.

Trotts was silent for a few moments, then he crawled back out and climbed upright.

‘Well?’ Picker asked.

The Barghast shook his head. ‘Rhivi.’