They all were. Once they’d got Voriet out of his cage using another of Drusher’s patent ‘wax charms’, they’d patched him up as best they could, using the old medical supplies in the storage bins. His smashed arm was slung and bound around his torso, the most effective temporary splinting they could muster. He was very pale and very slow, and his pain was constant. Drusher was worried about the damage to Voriet’s throat too. He and Macks were taking turns to support the interrogator so he could manage the steps.

Macks seemed robust enough, but the brawl with Streekal had left her bruised and sore. For his part, Drusher felt like he had been run over by a tank. His hand throbbed, and his chest, back and belly ached so much it made him wince. Macks had put a dressing over the slice Streekal had cut in his cheek.

‘You’re a silly bastard,’ she’d told him gently while she did it.

‘You need to learn some new moves, magos,’ Voriet had said, smiling through his pain. ‘That’s twice you’ve tried to get out of trouble by opening a cage and letting something wild out.’

As they climbed, Drusher told Nayl about Jaff and Eisenhorn. He related everything he could think of.

‘Have you seen Eisenhorn?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Nayl. ‘I haven’t seen anybody. Not until I found you lot.’

‘Do we have a plan?’ asked Macks.

‘Find a way out,’ said Nayl. ‘Maybe try to use your wax charm trick on a door or something. You’re all beaten up. I think Voriet needs serious attention. This is one of those times when we need to escort casualties out of the front line.’

‘No,’ said Drusher. ‘Eisenhorn’s gone up to deal with Sark and Gobleka. He’ll need help. He’s… struggling. Something about this place hurts him.’

‘Oh, screw him,’ said Macks.

‘I told him, once I’d got you out, I’d come back and help him,’ said Drusher.

‘He didn’t come and help you,’ said Macks.

‘No,’ said Drusher. ‘But then, he never said he was going to. In fact, he said he definitely wasn’t going to. I, on the other hand, said I would help him when I could.’

‘So, what, you’re a man of your word now?’ asked Macks.

‘Always have been,’ said Drusher.

‘With respect,’ said Nayl, stopping so he could turn and look back at them, ‘I admire your spirit, magos, but I don’t know what sort of help you’re going to be. Your expertise is not… not combat-oriented.’

Drusher stared at him.

Nayl looked away, awkwardly.