The equerry to the Warmaster had smiled, and unwilled she began to turn to run. A hand on her shoulder stopped her dead. Heavy fingers squeezed with the promise of bone-breaking force.

‘You see, Mistress Oliton,’ said Maloghurst. ‘We do not trust him, at all… And we need to be sure. We need to know what he hides from us. We need to know which way he will choose. I have my suspicions as to that, but the Warmaster wants to be certain.’ He nodded, smiled. ‘Loken was a favoured son after all. You can forgive a father wishing to give his son every chance, and so you are going to help us see Captain Loken clearly.’

Mersadie could not move. There was something behind her.

A shadow, breath on the back of her neck.

‘You remembrancers wanted to see the Great Crusade…’ continued Maloghurst. He turned aside and she could see a low stone table, just behind him. Candles burned above it. The smell of scorched human hair filled her nose. There were objects on the table: a silver knife, a brass bowl filled with water, a pile of finger bones, a silver coin and a human eye, still leaking fluid onto the cold stone, looking up at her with a grey-flecked gaze.

‘You wanted to know the truth, to look into all the places where your curiosity took you…’ said Maloghurst. His fingers traced a sign in the air.

She tried to move but could not. The shape Maloghurst had drawn burned red, bleeding in her sight.

‘Well now you will do just that, Mistress Oliton. You will see, and we will look through your eyes…’

He reached down, picked up the knife. The rune burning in the air glowed. Everything was going black, rushing past like the embers of a fire pulled apart by a gale. Hot breath prickled on the back of her head. A hand touched her shoulder. She felt the tips of claws.

Maloghurst was very close now, looming above her, the buzz of his armour aching in her teeth, a rank incense smell coiling from him. And now he was stepping towards her, knife rising to her face, to her left eye…

He slowed, his movements blurring like a pict capture run at one-tenth speed.

‘You see…’ growled a voice from behind her. ‘The eyes… windows to the soul… and what were you but a set of eyes watching the world.’ The tip and edge of the silver knife filled her sight. It was all she could see. ‘You never know what use things will be…’ Mersadie tried to draw breath. The scream in her throat burned but did not sound. ‘All they wanted was to see what you saw, to know what you knew, to use your insight…’ A chuckle through sharp teeth. ‘So limited, but the seed was planted, the bridge and link made. And the warp remembers…’

‘I…’ began Mersadie. ‘I was used…’