Drusher shot it point-blank through the back of the skull. The cranium exploded in a shower of bone shards and old loam, and the entire skeleton disarticulated, falling in an avalanche of disjointed pieces.

Nayl hauled Voriet to his feet.

‘The stairs!’ he barked. There was a long ascending flight to the next platform level further down the curve of the catwalk. Macks grabbed Drusher by the hand, and they started to run. Ahead and behind them, they could see more animations: slow plodding things of bone and faster, striding things that still had some or all of their soft tissue. The closest was a grim cadaver with an arm missing. Ghostly green light flickered an afterimage of where the limb had been.

Drusher shot it in the chest. He turned his aim towards the other advancing animations.

‘No, magos. We can make it,’ Nayl advised. He had Voriet hoisted over his shoulder. ‘Don’t waste any more rounds.’

‘All right,’ Drusher agreed.

‘How many have you got left?’ asked Nayl.

‘I don’t know. How many fit into one of these?’

‘Eight,’ snapped Nayl. ‘How many did you fire?’

‘I have no idea! Stop asking me questions!’ Drusher replied.

‘How many have you got left, Nayl?’ asked Macks.

They had reached the foot of the stairs. The nearest animations were rushing to block them, marching briskly, like passengers late for a transit. One was a woman with part of her face missing. The other was a man who had no head at all.

Nayl put a careful shot into each of them. They toppled.

‘How many shots, Nayl?’ Macks roared.

‘Now?’ Nayl replied. ‘None.’

They ran up the stairs. It was a long flight, straight up to the next level. Drusher and Macks led the way, with Nayl lagging behind supporting Voriet. Animations were closing in at the stair foot.

From somewhere very high above, somewhere up in the sickly light, they heard a scream. The sound of a man in unbearable anguish. It rang out for several moments above the din of the working Loom, then faded.

‘That was him,’ said Nayl, a look of horror on his face.

‘Eisenhorn?’ asked Macks, looking back at him.

Voriet nodded.

‘I think Harlon’s right,’ he said.

‘We keep going anyway,’ insisted Drusher. He took another couple of steps, looked up and saw a hunched, stained skeleton looking down at him from the top of the steps. Jade light glinted in its vacant orbits. It began to step towards them.

‘Back?’ he said.

‘They’re already on the stairs,’ Nayl shouted.

Drusher raised his pistol and fired. The shot clipped the animation’s head, above the left eye, splintering bone, and almost swung the skull around through a hundred and eighty degrees. The animating force in it broke and died, and the bones collapsed and tumbled down the steps. Some dropped over the edge through the rails. Macks and Drusher flinched to avoid the ones that bounced past their feet.