‘Eisenhorn!’ Drusher yelled at the cage. ‘What else happens? You can’t know everything. What are the consequences of a catastrophe like the one you’re trying to create? You’re messing with space and reality, splitting them open. Talk about ignorant! No one knows about that stuff. If you damage the universe that badly, does the damage stop? What if it spreads and you can’t halt it?’

+The King will be dead.+

‘Oh, well as long as the King’s dead, that’s all right,’ said Drusher. ‘You know what, Eisenhorn? You know what? I don’t think you know anything, or you don’t care. You’re about to execute a dreadful act of destruction, and you have no clue what the consequences will be. What if you break reality forever? Break it so it can’t heal or repair? Rip it open? So what if the King’s dead… That will be it. You’ll have destroyed the very thing you’ve spent your life protecting!’

+I know what I am doing.+

‘I don’t think you do,’ said Drusher.

+Magos. Valentin. I… I will open a door. An exit out of Keshtre. You get out. Take Voriet with you. Macks and Nayl too. They live still. I have done my best to protect them. Get out, and I will try to contain the damage I am about to do. I will… contain it. You will live. Please… get them. Get out.+

Drusher rose to his feet. He flicked insects off his face.

‘He doesn’t understand, does he?’ he asked Voriet. ‘He doesn’t understand people.’

‘I don’t think it’s ever been part of the job description,’ said Voriet. ‘Do as he says, Drusher. Find Macks and Nayl, and get out while you can. I’m a bit tired. I’ll stay here. Sit with him until the end.’

‘Not an option,’ said Drusher. ‘For Throne’s sake! But for a bit of wax and a custom bullet I could open that cage. I’ve still got the bloody gun.’

He produced the empty little Regit snub from his coat.

‘See?’

He stuffed it back in his pocket, despairing. His knuckles touched something else in his pocket. He took the gun back out and reached in.

‘Voriet?’

‘What?’

‘I miscounted,’ said Drusher. ‘I took a bullet out of the gun to open your cages. Macks never put it back in the clip when she reloaded it for me.’

He held out his hand. The bullet lay in his palm.

‘Seven shots,’ he said. ‘Not eight. I miscounted.’

Voriet blinked in surprise.

‘We don’t have any wax, magos,’ he said.

‘Balls to that,’ said Drusher. He did what he’d seen Nayl do. He drew back the Regit’s slide, opened the firing chamber and slipped the bullet in. Then he snapped the slide shut.

‘Step back,’ he said.

Voriet struggled to his feet.

‘Magos? What are you–’