Murder in Corvis

MURDER
IN CORVIS
RICHARD LEE BYERS
Cover by
NÉSTOR OSSANDÓN
CONTENTS
MAP......................................................................................................i
WELCOME TO
THE IRON KINGDOMS.................................................................. ii
CHAPTER 1........................................................................................1
CHAPTER 2......................................................................................10
CHAPTER 3......................................................................................18
CHAPTER 4......................................................................................25
CHAPTER 5......................................................................................30
CHAPTER 6......................................................................................35
CHAPTER 7......................................................................................46
CHAPTER 8......................................................................................49
CHAPTER 9......................................................................................60
CHAPTER 10....................................................................................64
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 11....................................................................................65
CHAPTER 12....................................................................................67
CHAPTER 13....................................................................................73
CHAPTER 14....................................................................................77
CHAPTER 15....................................................................................80
CHAPTER 16....................................................................................83
CHAPTER 17....................................................................................90
CHAPTER 18....................................................................................94
CHAPTER 19....................................................................................96
CHAPTER 20....................................................................................99
CHAPTER 21..................................................................................102
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER 22..................................................................................105
CHAPTER 23..................................................................................110
CHAPTER 24..................................................................................116
CHAPTER 25..................................................................................119
CHAPTER 26..................................................................................121
CHAPTER 27..................................................................................126
CHAPTER 28..................................................................................131
GLOSSARY......................................................................................135
ABOUT THE AUTHOR.................................................................141
f
MAP
WELCOME TO
THE IRON KINGDOMS
T he world you are about to enter is the Iron Kingdoms, a place

where the power and presence of gods are beyond dispute, where
mankind battles itself as well as all manner of fantastic races
and exotic beasts, and where a blend of magic and technology
called mechanika shape industry and warfare. Outside the Iron
Kingdoms themselves—the human nations of the continent called
Immoren—the vast and unexplored world of Caen extends to
unknown reaches, firing the imaginations and ambitions of a new
generation.
Strife frequently shakes these nations, and amid the battles of the
region the most powerful weapon is the warjack, a steam-powered
automaton that boasts great mobility, thick armor, and devastating
weaponry. A warjack’s effectiveness is at its greatest when commanded
by a warcaster, a powerful soldier-sorcerer who can forge a mental
link with the great machine to magnify its abilities tremendously.
Masters of both arcane and martial combat, these warcasters are
often the deciding factor in war.
For the Iron Kingdoms, what is past is prologue. No event more
clearly defines these nations than the extended dark age suffered
under the oppression of the Orgoth, a brutal and merciless race
from unexplored lands across the great western ocean known as the
Meredius. For centuries these fearsome invaders enslaved the people
of western Immoren, maintaining a vise-like grip until at last the
WELCOME TO THE IRON KINGDOMS
people rose up in rebellion. This began a long and bloody process

of battles and defeats. This rebellion would have been doomed to
failure if a dark arrangement by the gods had not bestowed the Gift
of Magic on the Immorese, unlocking previously undreamed-of
powers.
Every effective weapon employed by the Rebellion against the
Orgoth was a consequence of great minds putting arcane talents to
work. Not only did sorcery allow evocations of fire, ice, and storm
on the battlefield, but scholars combined scientific principles to
blend technology with the arcane. Rapid advancements in alchemy
gave rise to blasting powder and the invention of deadly firearms.
Methods were developed to fuse arcane formulae into metal
runeplates, creating augmented tools and weapons: the invention of
mechanika. The culmination of these efforts was the invention of
the first colossals, precursors to the modern warjack. These towering
machines of war gave the Immorese a weapon the invaders could
not counter. With the colossals the armies of the Rebellion drove the
Orgoth from their fortresses and back to the sea.
The people of the ravaged lands drew new borders, giving birth to
the Iron Kingdoms: Cygnar, Khador, Llael, and Ord. It was not long
before ancient rivalries ignited between these new nations. Warfare
became a simple fact of life. Over the last four centuries periodic wars
have been broken up by brief periods of tense but wary peace, with
technology steadily advancing all the while. Alchemy and mechanika
have simultaneously eased and complicated the lives of the people of
the Iron Kingdoms while evolving the weapons employed by their
armies in these days of industrial revolution.
The most long-standing and bitter enmity in the region is
that between Cygnar in the south and Khador in the north. The
Khadorans are a militant people occupying a harsh and unforgiving
territory. The armies of Khador have periodically fought to reclaim
iii
lands their forebears had once seized through conquest. The two
smaller kingdoms of Llael and Ord were forged from contested
territories and so have often served as battlegrounds between the two
stronger powers. The prosperous and populous southern nation of
Cygnar has periodically allied with these nations in efforts to check
Khador’s imperial aspirations.
Just over a century ago, Cygnar endured a religious civil war that
ultimately led to the founding of the Protectorate of Menoth. This
nation, the newest of the Iron Kingdoms, stands as an unforgiving
theocracy entirely devoted to Menoth, the ancient god credited with
creating mankind.
In the current era, war has ignited with particular ferocity. This
began with the Khadoran invasion of Llael, which succeeded in
toppling the smaller kingdom in 605 AR. The fall of Llael ignited
an escalating conflict that has embroiled the region for the last three
years. Only Ord has remained neutral in these wars, profiting by
becoming a haven for mercenaries. The Protectorate has launched the
Great Crusade to convert all of humanity to the worship of Menoth.
With the other nations occupied with war, this crusade was able to
make significant gains and seize territories in northeastern Llael.
Other powers have been drawn into this strife, either swept up
in events or taking advantage of them for their own purposes. The
Scharde Islands west of Immoren are home to the Nightmare Empire
of Cryx, which is ruled by the dragon Toruk and sends endless waves
of undead and their necromantic masters to bolster its armies with
the fallen of other nations. To the northeast the insular elven nation
of Ios is host to a radical sect called the Retribution of Scyrah that
is driven to hunt down human arcanists, whom they believe are
anathema to their gods.
The savage wilds within and beyond the Iron Kingdoms contain
various factions fighting for their own agendas. From the frozen
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north a disembodied dragon called Everblight leads a legion of

blight-empowered warlocks and draconic spawn. The proud, tribal
race known as the trollkin work to unite their once-disparate people
to defend their lands. Deep in the wilds of western Immoren,
a secretive order of druids commands nature’s beasts to oppose
Everblight and advance their own various plans. Far to the east across
the Bloodstone Marches, the warrior nation of the Skorne Empire
marches inexorably closer, bent on conquering their ancient enemies
in Ios as a step toward greater dominion. Shadowy conspiracies have
arisen from hidden strongholds to play their own part in unfolding
events. These include the Convergence of Cyriss, an enigmatic
machine-cult that worships a distant goddess of mathematics, as well
as their bitter enemies the cephalyx, a race of extremely intelligent
and sadistic slavers who surgically transform captives into mindless
drudges.
The Iron Kingdoms is a setting whose inhabitants must rely
on heroes with the courage to defend them using magic and steel,
whether in the form of rune-laden firearms or steam-driven weapons
of war. The factions of western Immoren are vulnerable to corruption
from within and subject to political intrigue and power struggles. All
the while, opportunistic mercenaries profit from conflict by selling
their temporary allegiance for coin or other favors. It is a world of
epic legends and endless sagas.
Enter the Iron Kingdoms, and discover a world like no other!
v
CHAPTER 1
Milo
O ut on the street, the light of gas lamps gleamed on cobbles slick

with rain. The thoroughfare ran through a respectable neighborhood
of prosperous shopkeepers and skilled tradesmen and was too well
illuminated for easy lurking.
Happily, though, the narrow alley that intersected the street had
no such lamps, and the recessed doorway where Milo Boggs stood
was darker still. No one was likely to notice a smallish man in a long
black cloak as he peered out at the locals’ comings and goings. The
soot-stained brick above his head even kept him out of the drizzle.
Hooves clopped, and a carriage rolled across the intersection.
Next came three young men crowing and laughing as they cavorted
along. Then a grey-haired woman in a shabby wrap, perhaps a servant
trudging from her employer’s house to her own modest lodging.
None of the passersby were of any use to Milo, and after a while,
impatience started gnawing at him. Or perhaps it was the loneliness
that occasionally crept up on him when he watched other people
going about their lives.
Come on, he thought, come on. Don’t make me wait all night.
Moments later, a lone man in a foppish hat with an upturned
brim and a gold cockade came into view. Pudgy with a mottled,
florid face, he stopped in front of the alley to take a silver flask
from his pocket and unscrew the cap with the exaggerated care
of the intoxicated.
MURDER IN CORVIS • RICHARD LEE BYERS
Milo smiled. It was as if Morrow or one of the deity’s ascendants

had answered his prayer, although he supposed the suggestion would
appall a priest. More likely they’d want to credit Thamar.
The tippler drank, returned the flask to its pocket, and moved on.
Milo gave him time to get a little farther away, then headed out onto
the street to follow him.
Now Milo simply needed the right spot at the proper moment:
a dark patch where the gaslight didn’t reach, and nobody else was
wandering by.
As he awaited his opportunity, his hands checked the gear hidden
beneath his cloak. One bandolier contained all the grenades it should,
and the other, its full complement of throwing knives. He’d carefully
buckled the sundry pouches incorporated into his alchemist’s leather
armor; their contents wouldn’t spill even in the throes of violent
exertion.
Really, he’d already known he was prepared. But the little ritual
settled his nerves.
The drunkard paused for another nip from the flask and then
arrived at a spot where the street divided like a ribbon cut lengthwise,
the left side remaining at ground level and the right sloping downward
into the earth. He opted to descend.
If he hadn’t needed to keep silent, Milo might have laughed. First
the drinking, now this. It was as if the fellow were trying to help him.
Despite the target’s manifest vulnerability, tackling him
aboveground would still have presented a certain amount of risk. But,
poorly lit and just as poorly patrolled—the domain of scoundrels
who felt only contempt for victims and paupers who survived by
keeping their heads down—the Undercity of Corvis was the ideal
place for a robbery.
Milo wondered what a well-dressed, seemingly reputable fellow
wanted in such a disreputable precinct of the city. Perhaps he harbored
2
a taste for the sort of entertainments that were readily available there.
In any case, if he were stupid enough to visit such a dangerous place
alone and inebriated, then he deserved whatever befell him.
The cobbles gave way to damp, rutted soil. Then the street leveled
out in a cave with tunnels running off in three directions.
Even here, a few gas lamps burned to half-reveal the structures
in the gloom. Tilted precariously, a ruinous house looked as if the
constant subsidence of the city had long ago dropped it from the
world above. A rickety staircase climbed to an opening halfway up
the cavern wall. Several grimy, ragged men had lined up in front of a
shack painted with a crude line rendering of a naked woman, and a
bored-looking ruffian with a club sat by the door to take their coins.
The brothel keeper and patrons were unlikely to bestir themselves
on the drunkard’s behalf. Still, having waited this long, Milo might
as well delay making his move until there were no witnesses at all.
Especially since the fat man, in his helpful way, appeared headed for
a less-populous portion of the caverns.
As Milo followed, he brought his gas mask out from under his
cloak and slipped it over his head. The mask would protect him from
catching a stray whiff of his own weapon. It would also keep the man
in the fancy hat from noticing his pockmarks or anything else about
his face.
The tippler led him into a passage lined with the Undercity’s
version of tenements, or rather, their charred and crumbling remains.
Once, a landlord had jammed in hundreds of tenants, but then a fire
broke out and killed them.
No one had tried to do anything much with the space since.
Rumor claimed it was unlucky—haunted or accursed. But the
tunnel was the quickest way from one populous section of the
caves to another, and so people braved it and kept a couple of
torches burning along the way.
3
Still treading silently, Milo quickened his pace until he came

within throwing distance of the oblivious figure in front of him. He
then tugged a grenade from its bandolier, thumbed the exposed arc
of cog that started the clockwork inside ticking, pulled the pin, and
threw the metal orb.
The grenade thudded down just behind the man in the hat.
Startled, he whirled, and then, with a bang and a flash, the metal
casing burst apart. If any of the scraps hit him, they were likely to
sting, but the actual point of the detonation was the vapor that
puffed from the ruptured shell.
The pudgy man breathed it in and started choking. Fumbling at
his throat, the fancy hat tumbling off, he collapsed to his knees.
Milo smiled. The strangle gas shouldn’t asphyxiate its victim, not
at this concentration. But it was doing a fine job of incapacitating
him.
The alchemist dashed forward, reviewing what he meant to do
next as he moved. He’d kick the target until he booted out whatever
fight was left. Then take the man’s purse, the fancy hat with its gold
cockade, the silver flask, and any other valuables. Then lose himself
in the maze of tunnels.
Suddenly, Milo heard something snap. He threw himself down,
and as he did so, his mind caught up with his reflexes, consciously
identifying the noise that, after years spent in sordid circumstances
rubbing elbows with dangerous associates, his body had recognized
immediately: the sound of a crossbow discharging its bolt.
The quarrel streaked over him and stabbed into the earth. The
angle told him his assailant had shot from an upper-story window in
one of the burned tenements.
Good. Whoever the bastard was, he’d likely made a slow,
precarious climb through the wreckage to reach his perch and would
have to descend just as carefully if he didn’t want to break his neck.
4
That meant his only option was to keep attacking at range, and
the alchemist reckoned he knew how to spoil the other man’s aim.
He pulled loose a second grenade, thumbed the trigger cog, pulled
the pin, and lobbed the metal ball in the direction from which the
quarrel had flown.
As the grenade rolled over the soft, uneven earth, a dark shape
clambered through a third-floor window. Milo watched more in
surprise than dismay. Only an idiot would jump from that high up.
But that was what his attacker did.
An instant later, the bomb exploded, and the resulting swell
of smoke kept Milo from seeing the crossbowman land. He did,
however, hear metal clash.
Then a hulking figure strode through the smoke screen. Milo’s
assailant had plainly accomplished the jump without breaking his
legs or otherwise injuring himself, and now that the would-be robber
was getting a closer look at him, he understood the reason why: the
crossbowman wasn’t actually a man at all. He was a trollkin and thus
stronger and sturdier than any human being.
The trollkin had the massive frame and blue-green skin of his
kind. Half his face was jaw and most of the rest was sloping brow,
with his wide mouth, nub of a nose, and beady eyes squashed in
between. A strip of orange-red quills bristled atop his head.
He wore plate armor with spikes jutting from it everywhere they
could without impeding movement, carried a big steel shield, and
had an equally impressive war hammer slung across his back. The
crossbow now dangled from his belt.
Milo rather wished he’d turned and run the instant he tossed the
smoke grenade. He reminded himself that he’d bested a number of
foes bigger than himself over the years.
Still, few of them had been this big, and clearly it would be
foolish to fight if he could trick his way out of trouble. He pointed
5
at the pudgy man who, obliging to the last, was still wheezing in an
alarming fashion.
“If you don’t help him,” Milo said, “he’ll choke to death.”
“I doubt it,” the trollkin replied. His rumble of a voice sounded
more intelligent than Milo had anticipated. “If his airways were
going to close, it would have happened already. Besides, nobody’s
paying me to look after him. The bounty is on you.”
Bounty? Milo didn’t know what the trollkin was talking about, but
the comment nonetheless suggested a way out of this situation. “If
it’s coin you’re after,” he said, stepping backward, “rob the drunkard.
I promise, it will be easier than fighting me.”
“But I’m not a thief.” Refusing to let Milo open up the distance
between them, the trollkin advanced. “I’m a thief taker.”
Milo whirled and ran. Footsteps thumping, the trollkin raced
after him.
Milo pulled his remaining strangle gas grenade from the bandolier,
thumbed the cog, pulled the pin, and counted to two. Then, without
looking back or breaking stride, he tossed the bomb over his shoulder.
He’d practiced the move and was reasonably confident of landing the
missile near his pursuer by sound and reckoning alone.
Metal clanged, and then the grenade banged. Unfortunately, it
exploded off to the right, not directly behind him. The trollkin must
have swatted it away with his shield just prior to detonation.
Well, then, Milo wouldn’t give him the chance to knock away
or otherwise avoid the next one. He pulled a bomb from the
snug leather loop holding it in place and slowed his pace just a
little, giving the trollkin the chance to draw closer without being
obvious about it.
When he judged the moment was right, he thumbed the cog,
counted to three, spun, and felt a pang of dismay to discover that the
trollkin was even nearer than expected. Still, his tactic ought to work.
6
He pulled the pin and bowled the grenade, sending it to explode

under the trollkin’s feet. Vapor burst from the detonation, the cloud
expanding enough to put Milo himself at the fringe of it.
As expected, the trollkin in his spiky armor froze in response to
a sudden jolt of fear. In another moment, the hallucinations would
begin. Then he might flail at them, try to flee from them, or simply
stagger around recoiling from the imaginary terrors assailing him
from every side.
However he reacted, he wouldn’t give Milo any more trouble. In
fact, the alchemist judged that if he were quick about it, he could still
accomplish the robbery and be well away before either the trollkin
or the pudgy tippler recovered from his concoctions. He started to
circle around his erstwhile pursuer.
Then, his wide mouth contorted in a grimace, the thief taker
lunged clear of the thinning cloud of gas. He slapped himself in
the face, once and then again, resounding blows that might have
knocked a human off his feet. His dark little eyes locked on Milo.
How had he shaken off the effects of the gas? Perhaps he’d had the
wit to hold his breath as the grenade exploded and had inhaled only
a trace of it. Or maybe his natural hardiness was to blame.
Either way, he was now even closer than before. He rushed Milo,
and once again, the alchemist fled.
Fine, Milo told himself. If the grenades weren’t working, he’d
simply outrun his pursuer. Surely it wouldn’t be that difficult. The
trollkin had plate armor weighing him down.
Milo sprinted, striving for every iota of speed of which his legs
were capable, and for a couple of moments, was certain he was
pulling ahead. Then something struck the back of his right calf and
made him stumble.
He looked down and discovered a crossbow bolt sticking in his
leg. At that same instant, the wound started to throb.
7
There was no time to tend the injury now. He ran on, but despite
his best efforts, he couldn’t entirely shut out the pain. It made him
limp, and he was certain the trollkin was catching up to him.
So Milo would have to try another trick. He veered and dashed
through one of the doorways leading into a burned-out shell of a
tenement.
Inside, supported only by charred sticks of columns and scraps of
wall, the wooden structure above him creaked. He dodged through
an opening on the right.
Despite the narrow windows, the darkness inside the building was
all but absolute, and he had no hope of sneaking silently as, tripping
over clattering rubble and bumping into obstructions, he groped his
way along. At his back, the trollkin made a similar racket but didn’t
sound like he was falling any farther behind.
Milo fumbled his way past a section of wall and spotted another
doorway, a charcoal-colored rectangle in the blackness that led back
outside. As he reached it, he grabbed a grenade, thumbed the cog,
pulled the pin, and threw the missile at the noise of the bounty
hunter’s approach.
The grenade flashed and banged, and the contents made a sizzling
sound. But to Milo’s disappointment, the trollkin didn’t cry out; the
acid must not have splashed him.
But then chunks of wood crashed down from overhead. Recoiling,
Milo realized the acid had splashed something that had been holding
up a portion of the ceiling. The question now was, had the debris
smashing down on the thief taker killed or incapacitated him?
Alas, no. His shield held over his head, the trollkin staggered into
the doorway.
Milo snatched out a knife and threw it. The blade spun at his
pursuer’s throat.
The trollkin twisted at the waist. The knife clanked against a
8
spiked pauldron and fell away. The bounty hunter swung down his
shield in front of his body and charged.
Scrambling backward, Milo grabbed another knife and cocked
his arm. But before he could throw the leaf-shaped blade, the trollkin
rammed the shield into his body.
The crashing impact threw him off his feet and made him feel
like a bell that had just been tolled and was vibrating still. He told
himself that he had to keep fighting—had to—and then the trollkin
dropped his shield, maneuvered around behind him, took him by
the neck, and squeezed.
9
CHAPTER 2
Gardek
Gardek Stonebrow compressed the human’s carotid arteries until

his quarry stopped squirming and pawing at him, then released his
grip and looked him over. The grenade and knife thrower’s chest
rose and fell. As intended, the blood choke had simply rendered
him unconscious, not dead.
Good. Gardek had been advised that alive was preferable.
Although actually, still jumpy from the fear gas and sore where
falling wood had battered him, he wouldn’t have been especially
upset to discover he’d killed the wretch. He’d taken this job knowing
his quarry was dangerous, but even so, who would have expected one
runt of a human to be so difficult to catch?
Certainly not Gardek. Of course, pretty much everything about
this night had surprised him. He’d had a hunch the object of his hunt
would turn out to be undead, as those who claimed to have glimpsed
his quarry had reported a shrouded, misshapen, malodorous figure
skulking through the dark. With that to build upon, his own wishful
thinking had done the rest.
Five years ago on the Longest Night, an army of the dead
had assaulted Corvis, and Gardek’s brother had been torn apart
amid the horror and desperate fighting that followed. Gardek
hadn’t yet finished avenging him—he was reasonably certain he
never would—and in consequence, no hunts pleased him more
than those that ended with him hammering such abominations
into splintered bone and spattered rot.
Sadly, this chore hadn’t turned out to be one of those. Still, it was
a job, and now he needed to complete it and collect his pay.
He removed the human’s cloak and the bandoliers and armored
alchemist’s vest beneath, then rolled him onto his stomach to bind
his hands behind him. Only then did he strip off the gas mask.
The pocked face beneath was thin, almost haggard—that of a
man who’d known hunger and hard times. An ordinary face, really,
but Gardek had been a bounty hunter long enough to disabuse him
of any notion that wrongdoers necessarily displayed their larceny for
all to see. The best were those whose faces were easily forgotten.
He stowed the human’s belongings in the haversack he wore
on his back along with his war hammer. Then he picked up the
unconscious man, carefully so as to avoid sticking him with a
spike. The enhancements to his armor had their uses in battle but
sometimes complicated mundane tasks.
A voice wheezed, “You.”
Gardek pivoted to discover it was his quarry’s quarry who’d
spoken. He’d worked so hard to catch the man in the gas mask that
he’d essentially forgotten the plump little dandy.
“I need to go home,” croaked the human. “I’ll pay you to get me
there safely.”
“I’m busy. Just go, quickly, before some other bastard takes an
interest in you.”
Gardek turned away without waiting to see if the man would
heed his advice. He passed out the north end of the tunnel
and through an enclave of gobbers with their grey-green skin
and long, pointed ears who were kicking a ball around with
some local human children. Standing knee-high and weighing
a fraction of his bulk, they all scrambled to get out of the way
of his spiked boots. Some of the residents eyed him and his
prisoner curiously, but no one was brave enough to accost him.
11
After that, he turned into one of the many sections of cave no

one had ever attempted to colonize, and where no torches or gas
lamps burned. No matter. Shaken periodically, a lantern filled with
bottled light got him from one end to the other. With a twinge of
amusement, he wondered if his prisoner had been involved in the
manufacture of the bottled light. It was possible. The alchemist
might be a respected member of the Order of the Golden Crucible
when he wasn’t prowling around committing atrocities.
It was in the next tunnel that the small man groaned and stirred.
Gardek set him down, leashed him, and waited for him to finish
waking.
The alchemist’s eyes fluttered open. He gasped when he discerned
his new circumstances, but Gardek had to give him credit: although
he must have been frightened, he took a deep breath and did his best
to keep that fear from showing in his expression or his reedy, tenor
voice. “We can work this out,” he said.
Gardek gripped the captive’s forearm and hauled him to his feet.
“Maybe you can,” he said, “but you’ll have to do it with the man who
hired me. So get moving.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a quarrel in my leg.”
“It didn’t keep you from running before. It won’t stop you from
walking now. Anyway, we’re nearly there.”
In fact, their destination was just around the next bend. The glow
of gaslight relieved the darkness before the building itself came into
view.
Many of the structures in the Undercity looked like they were
on the verge of collapse or at least had an air of shabbiness about
them. Old buildings that had started life aboveground and had
subsequently sunk were rotting away, and a fair number of the ones
rebuilt below had been thrown together by amateur carpenters and
masons using whatever mismatched materials came to hand.
12
The gambling house, however, was plainly the work of

professional builders—though that didn’t mean its facade bespoke
taste or refinement. The blaze of lamplight illuminated gaudy
murals depicting the beast fights that were one of the establishment’s
principal attractions. Enthroned above the entrance sat a carving like
the figurehead of a ship, a woman holding a scepter capped with a
skull. The same morbid motif adorned her high-backed chair and
the diadem encircling her brow.
The alchemist stopped short. “You’re taking me to the Queen of
Skulls?”
“Yes,” Gardek said.
“Then this truly is a mistake. Lon Kurgan has no reason to care
about me.”
“Tell him that.” Gardek shoved the human forward.
The man watching the door admitted the newcomers without
comment. He knew Gardek, and a trifling detail like a bound captive
didn’t faze a member of the Knotted Cord gang.
Beyond the doors were card rooms where men sat playing black
argus and brag. Despite the prisoner Gardek was herding along, a
couple of them called out to him, urging him to claim a seat at their
tables. He could have picked a good spot; many chairs were empty.
The gamblers wanted him to join them because they thought
trollkin were stupid, and when he played, he did his best to appear
so. It made it that much easier to win.
He and the alchemist passed from the card rooms into the
fighting hall, where a battle had just concluded in the pit in the
center of the floor. The carcass of an enormous boar lay torn and
bloody there. Equipped only with a crook-handled, spiral-carved
cane and high brown-leather gauntlets, a Khadoran expatriate
named Pytor Nazarko was persuading a bear with a gash in its
flank to reenter a wheeled cage used to transport animals from
13
the enclosures along the walls to the pit and back again.
The beast trainer’s fearless mastery of his charges was as much a
part of the show as the fights themselves, and once the bald man with
his bushy side whiskers completed his task and his assistants rolled
the cage cart up the ramp, spectators approached him to express their
admiration. Smiling and nodding, Nazarko shook their hands and
traded one slap on the back for another.
Meanwhile, Lon Kurgan surveyed the scene from the railed
gallery ten feet above the floor. Burly but soft in the gut, dressed
in garish mustard yellow velvet, and possessed of a ready smile and
cold eyes, the human looked like what he was: a mid-level chieftain
in a notorious crime syndicate. Gardek could imagine hunting him
someday, when it was the Corvis Council posting a reward.
For now, though, Kurgan was his employer, and when the
manager of the Queen of Skulls noticed him, Gardek pointed at the
alchemist and nodded to signal that he’d caught his quarry.
“Bring him up!” Kurgan shouted. He looked across the hall to
Nazarko, who was about to enter the bear’s cage with what was likely
a veterinary kit in hand. “You come too, Pytor!”
Nazarko frowned. “The bear’s wounded.”
“It’ll live until you get back to it. And if it doesn’t, buy another.
Now come, damn it!”
Gardek marched the alchemist through the somewhat sparse
crowd to a staircase. Nazarko joined them on the steps, and the three
of them approached Kurgan together.
“Mr. Kurgan,” the prisoner said. “This is a mista—”
Kurgan backhanded him, whipping his head to the side. He
gestured to a room. “In there.”
Gardek shoved the alchemist into a kind of office decorated with
the glassy-eyed heads of wolves, bears, and other animals. Perhaps
the trophies were supposed to suggest that Kurgan was a gentleman
14
who enjoyed aristocratic pursuits like the chase. It was all but certain,
though, that the animals had actually died rending one another in
the pit.
“Put him there,” Kurgan said, gesturing to a straight-backed chair
set before an ornately carved desk. He sat down behind the desk and
looked the prisoner over. After a few seconds, he grunted and said,
“He doesn’t look like much. And I thought you told me we were
after an undead.”
“I said at the time,” Gardek replied, “that was only a guess.”
“Still, are you sure you caught the right man?”
“Yes.” Gardek ran down the reasons why.
The alchemist listened with a mixture of horror and astonishment
burgeoning on his face. Gardek had to give him credit; the pretense
was almost convincing.
When Gardek finished, Kurgan said, “All right. I believe you.” He
sneered at the alchemist. “If you have anything to tell me—anything
that would incline me to make what’s to come any easier on you—
now’s the time.”
Blood oozing from a split lower lip, the alchemist swallowed. “Mr.
Kurgan, I give you my word, every word the trollkin said is wrong. I
haven’t murdered anybody.”
Kurgan glowered. “It’s too late for lies. I want to know why you
killed them.”
“I didn’t!”
The gang chieftain turned to his second-in-command. “Should
we torture the truth out of him?”
Nazarko shrugged. “If you do, what will you learn? That he’s a
madman or a pervert. Don’t we know that already? Of course, if you
simply want to take out your frustrations . . .”
Kurgan shook his head. “I want this finished.” He leered at the
prisoner. “That doesn’t mean an easy death. The way I see it, you owe
15
me, and I have an idea how to collect.” He looked back at Nazarko.

“We untie him and throw him into the pit with the burrow-mawgs.
The marks bet on how long he can last.”
“All right,” Nazarko said, “as soon as I see to the bear—”
“Forget the bear! We’re lucky we have a bigger crowd right now
than we’ve had in weeks. We’re going to do this before any of them
wander off. I want their coin, and I want them to spread the word
that the murderer’s dead.”
“Mr. Kurgan,” the alchemist said, “I swear, you have the wrong
man.”
The gang boss looked to Gardek. “Drag him back downstairs and
take his bindings off. My men will help you hold on to him until it’s
time to throw him to the animals. Afterward, I’ll give you your pay.”
Gardek did as instructed, with the prisoner struggling and
protesting every inch of the way. The trollkin felt a twinge of
unwilling sympathy. The alchemist was going to die a needlessly ugly
death. He reminded himself it would be no worse than the final
moments of the killer’s victims.
While he and one of Kurgan’s henchmen prepared the captive,
the gang boss himself shouted down from the gallery to explain who
was about to die and how the crowd could wager on it. Gamblers
pushed up to a chalkboard and the clerk stationed there to place
their bets, and another functionary climbed a stepladder and reset a
brass timepiece mounted high on the wall to zero. The instrument
was made to tick off seconds, not to track the minutes and hours of
the day.
Nazarko and an assistant rolled a wheeled cage down the ramp
into the pit. This cage had wire mesh over the bars to keep the
burrow-mawgs from squeezing through.
There were at least a dozen mawgs inside, shaggy animals the
size of hounds with bat-like ears and large red eyes. Their slavering
16
mouths were huge and crammed with jagged fangs. They scuttled
back and forth, over one another, and up the mesh, frantic to escape
their confinement and attack and devour whatever prey they could.
Nazarko’s assistant ran back up the ramp. The animal trainer
opened the cage, and the burrow-mawgs hurtled out. Nazarko
backed up the incline while sweeping his cane back and forth at knee
level, and, almost miraculously, the creatures allowed him to reach
the gate at the top of the ascent and secure it unmolested.
Then it was time. The man on the stepladder gripped the lever
that would start the clock, and Nazarko raised his arm to give the
signal. Gardek and the fellow who was helping him manhandled the
alchemist to the edge of the pit.
17
CHAPTER 3
Eilish
E ilish Garrity had never visited the Queen of Skulls before,

and he peered about with interest. He was, after all, a student of
psychology in general and crime in particular.
Judging from the number of people he could see clustered
deeper inside the building, something was about to commence—
probably one of the beast fights for which the illegal gambling
house was know. But nobody in the card rooms showed the slightest
inclination to leave his seat and watch. They were focused on their
own games.
He might have made an observation about the nature of obsessive
behavior, but he could see that neither of his companions was inclined
to listen. Possessed of a long, narrow face and shrewd grey eyes and
currently dressed in nondescript civilian garb, Watch Lieutenant
Rorke was plainly intent on locating the man they’d come to see.
The black-haired and swarthy Colbie Sterling was striding after the
lawman, her armored greatcoat flapping around her.
Eilish supposed he’d better follow as well, and when the three of
them entered the room that featured the fighting pit, he caught his
breath. They hadn’t walked in on the start of a beast fight after all: a
trollkin and a human scoundrel were about to throw a smallish man
down to a pack of milling, snarling burrow-mawgs.
“Stop!” Rorke shouted. At the same instant, the crowd, recognizing
that the slaughter was about to begin, started counting down in
unison from three. Eilish realized the Watch officer’s voice was lost
in the general clamor.
Colbie spun toward Eilish. “Do something!” she shouted.
He realized he could. Under his breath he spoke several syllables
that served as a mnemonic aid for the arcane runes he had to mentally
visualize to manifest his will. He thrust out his hand in its blackened
steel gauntlet, which matched the rest of his suit of well-fitted plate.
Glowing blue runes appeared in the air around his extended hand.
He felt a surge of exertion, as though he were throwing a punch.
A bolt of arcane energy leaped from his fingertips and blazed over
the heads of the people in front of him to impact the far wall with a
burst of azure light. The display startled everyone into silence.
Then Rorke could make himself heard. “Stop this! Release the
prisoner!”
Clad in an expensive but garish outfit of yellow velvet, a man
scowled down from the gallery overhead. Eilish surmised that the
fellow was Lon Kurgan.
“You don’t understand what’s going on here,” the gang boss called.
“It looks like attempted murder,” Rorke replied. “How big an
idiot are you that you asked me to come here and then let me walk
in on that?”
Kurgan’s scowl grew fiercer still. “I sent for you—” He took a
breath. “We’re both idiots if we go on talking in the middle of a
crowd. Come up. You too, Pytor.”
“Not while that man is still standing at the edge of the pit,” said
Rorke.
“Fine.” Kurgan looked to the trollkin. “Bring him back up here
for now.”
The trollkin hauled the captive toward a staircase. Rorke headed
for the steps as well, Colbie and Eilish followed him. Scowling, a beast
handler with a cane and high leather gloves—Pytor, presumably—
19
brought up the rear. They all ended up crowded into an office

decorated with mounted animal heads. Some taxidermist was likely
making a nice living off Kurgan’s taste in décor.
Kurgan sat down at an ornate desk. “As I started to say before, I
sent for you more than a week ago.”
Rorke sighed. “I have a new captain to answer to, and he’s
watching me.”
Kurgan’s lips twitched into a momentary smile. “I can understand
not wanting to draw his attention.”
Rorke took a breath. “Here’s the thing: the Watch is already
looking into the killings.”
“In the halfhearted way you look into anything that happens
hereabouts?”
Rorke pressed on. “I’m not in charge of the case, so my men
and I can’t do anything extra. Not until the young snot gets tired of
spying on me. But I have brought two people who should be able to
help you. You’ve seen that Eilish Garrity here is an arcanist. He also
studied forensics at the university.” At Kurgan’s blank look he added,
“That means he knows how to solve crimes.”
Eilish had put his investigative skills at Rorke’s disposal. The
Watch lieutenant had paid him off the books for assistance with a
couple of puzzling cases.
“While Colbie Sterling,” Rorke continued, indicating the other
person with him, “is a mercenary, a mechanik, and a ’jack marshal.”
Eilish wasn’t sure how that justified Colbie’s inclusion in a criminal
investigation, but if Rorke wanted her involved—well, Eilish couldn’t
overrule him.
“They can have the reward you offered,” the lawman said. “I’ll just
take a finder’s fee.”
Kurgan snorted. “You’ll take nothing, and neither will they. It’s
your own fault. When I called and you didn’t come, I hired a bounty
20
hunter—Gardek Stonebrow there—to catch the killer, and he did.

That’s who we were about to toss to the mawgs, and I don’t see why
any sensible man would object to me saving Corvis the price of a trial
and a hanging.”
“Really?” Eilish said. “I’ve never had the opportunity to examine
such a depraved killer close up. May I?” Without waiting for an
answer, he approached within arm’s reach of the small man with the
pockmarked face. The trollkin Gardek scowled but permitted it.
“Mr. Garrity,” the small man said, “I’m not—”
“Hush,” Eilish said. “I’m working.”
He inspected the prisoner from head to toe, then bent close to
sniff him. When he was satisfied, he turned toward Kurgan. He
could feel he was smiling, and why not? Few things in life gave him
greater satisfaction than revealing truth to those less perceptive than
himself.
“Naturally,” he said, “Lieutenant Rorke explained your problem
when he enlisted my aid, but let’s review the basics. For the past five
weeks, people have been getting butchered in the general vicinity
of the Queen of Skulls. More than half were gamblers on their way
home from this very establishment. The killings have been savage
in the extreme, the corpses gruesomely mangled. Once word got
out, people decided to seek their entertainment elsewhere and your
profits plummeted. Higher-ups in the Knotted Cord then started
pressuring you to fix the problem.”
Kurgan glared at Rorke. “You talk too much!”
“Lieutenant Rorke didn’t tell me about your gang affiliation,”
Eilish said. “It’s common knowledge to anyone with even a
passing interest in the criminal fraternities of Corvis. But to
continue: you responded to the pressure by seeking help, first
from the good lieutenant and then from Mr. Stonebrow—who
unfortunately has let you down.”
21
It was the trollkin’s turn to glare. “What are you saying?”

“That this fellow . . . what’s your name?”
“Milo Boggs,” the prisoner said.
“That Mr. Boggs is not the murderer.”
Gardek sneered. “I’ve been prowling around the area for days
waiting for the killer to reveal himself. And he did! I surprised Boggs
in the act of attacking a man.”
“I only meant to rob him,” said Milo, “not kill him.”
Eilish smiled at Kurgan. “And that’s not such an outlandish
claim here in the Undercity, is it? People commit that sort of crime
with some frequency. I’ve heard it said that in your younger days,
before achieving your present position of responsibility, you yourself
dabbled on occasion.”
“Boggs was operating in the same area where the murders took
place,” Gardek said.
Milo protested, “I didn’t even know there were murders! I’ve been
shut up in my alchemy laboratory. I only came out when I needed
fresh supplies and the coin to buy them.”
Eilish looked up at Gardek. “I’m sure that after days of tedious
skulking in the dark, it was exhilarating to think you’d finally caught
your man. Perhaps excitement made you forget the reports of those
witnesses who claim to have glimpsed the shrouded, shadowy form
of the killer vanishing down one tunnel or another. Some described
him as quite large. Some said there was a strangeness to his shape that
made them wonder if they were looking at a gatorman or some sort
of undead, like a swamp shambler.”
Gardek snorted. “People don’t always see straight. Especially in
the dark, or when they’re scared, or when an alchemist is throwing
fear gas around to addle them.” The trollkin pulled the haversack off
his back and poured the contents onto Kurgan’s desk. He picked up
a gas mask from the scatter and displayed it for all to see. “And this
22
would have helped them imagine they were looking at something

uncanny and not just a vicious madman.”
“In truth,” Gardek continued, “it’s you who’s forgetting what the
witnesses had to say. A couple of them claimed the killer smelled
funny, and Boggs does, too. You just took a whiff of him. You must
have noticed it.”
“The witnesses spoke of a rotten odor,” Eilish answered. “Mr.
Boggs has a trace of a fishy smell clinging to his person. I suspect
bone oil figures in his work.”
“That’s right!” said the alchemist. “It does!”
The bounty hunter scowled. “I already said, you can’t count on
witnesses to get details right. Particularly when they’re doing their
witnessing under adverse conditions.”
Eilish smiled. “I agree. Witnesses are often unreliable. How
fortunate, then, that we’re not limited to what others have told us.
We have evidence we can inspect for ourselves. For example, Mr.
Boggs’ effects.”
He removed a magnifying glass from the pouch attached to his
sword belt and used it to examine the alchemist’s cloak, armor, and
bandoliers.
“The killer mutilated his victims with extraordinary ferocity,”
he said. “Yet there’s not a speck of dried blood on these articles.
Everyone, feel free to borrow the lens and check for yourself.”
Gardek made a spitting sound. “You don’t think he had the sense
to clean up afterward?”
“I think it would be difficult to notice and expunge every tiny
drop of gore on black cloth and leather. But if that argument doesn’t
convince you, consider this.”
Eilish drew one of Milo’s throwing knives from its sheath on a
bandolier. He brandished it to give everyone a good look.
“While Lieutenant Rorke was seeking out Miss Sterling,” he
23
said, “I took the opportunity to examine the bodies of the two most
recent victims.” He smiled. “I have an arrangement with the morgue
attendants. Anyway, a knife with two convex edges couldn’t possibly
have inflicted the wounds on the cadavers. The murder weapon is a
blade that snags the flesh and rips it, like a hook.”
Gardek looked to Kurgan. “You know me!” the trollkin said. “I’ve
tracked down scores of fugitives. What has this . . . schoolboy ever
done?”
Eilish framed a crushing retort, but Colbie forestalled him
by speaking first. “I know you, too, Mr. Stonebrow, at least by
reputation. If you’re the professional everyone says you are, you won’t
let vanity or greed stop you from acknowledging that you haven’t yet
earned your fee.”
The trollkin glowered at her for a moment. Then he released his
grip on Milo’s forearm. The alchemist closed his eyes and slumped
in relief.
24
CHAPTER 4
Colbie
“D amn it!” Kurgan snarled. He was upset at Gardek’s tacit

admission that he’d captured the wrong man. Colbie, however, was
relieved.
When Rorke had introduced her to Eilish, she’d taken a dislike to
the lanky blond arcanist, whose snide demeanor had given her the
impression he resented being forced to work with her. Now, however,
she saw there was more to him than arrogance. His observations had
dissuaded Kurgan from believing someone else had already caught
the murderer before she’d even had a chance to show what she could
do.
For her, that opportunity was even more important than the pay.
After several years of fighting for other captains, she’d decided to
found a mercenary company of her own. To operate legally, that
company would need a charter from the city, and a Watch officer
could exert the influence necessary to get the petition approved.
Rorke had promised to do so provided she demonstrated her
competence by helping to solve a few problems, including this one.
Milo reached for his belongings. “Now that we’ve cleared up the
misunderstanding,” he said, “I’ll just get out of your way.”
“I didn’t say you could go!” Kurgan snapped. “Hold on to him,
Gardek!” The bounty hunter took a fresh grip on the prisoner’s
forearm.
Eilish gave Kurgan a smile. “I take it we’re in agreement that the
killer is still at large. I’ll set about catching him for you.”
Gardek glared. Milo sucked in a breath as the trollkin’s fingers
tightened on his arm.
“This is still my job,” Gardek said.
“Surely not after you botched it,” Eilish replied. “Am I correct,
Mr. Kurgan?”
The gang boss snorted. “There’s a reward. It’ll go to whoever earns
it.”
“Then it’s a race,” the arcanist said. “That’s fine with me.”
“And with me,” Gardek said.
Colbie cleared her throat. The others turned to look at her.
“I suggest the three of us work together,” she said.
Eilish shook his head. “Forgive my bluntness, Miss Sterling, but I
had difficulty reconciling myself to splitting the bounty two ways. I
draw the line at three.”
“I work alone,” Gardek said, “and if I did take a partner, it wouldn’t
be a strutting know-it-all like him.”
“Forgive my bluntness,” Colbie said, “but neither one of you is
thinking clearly.” She looked Eilish in the eye. “You’re clever, and
you learned everything the university could teach you. But how
much practical experience have you had? How many cases have you
investigated altogether?”
Eilish’s mouth tightened. “What matters is that I solved them.”
“Mr. Stonebrow,” Colbie persisted, “has been a bounty hunter
for years, and though he may have made a mistake this time around,
he’s not exaggerating when he says he’s tracked down scores of men,
many here in the Undercity. If that doesn’t convince you, well, look
at him. I can handle myself in a fight, and I hope you can, too, but
we’re going to be hunting a dangerous man in a dangerous place.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have a trollkin on our side?”
Eilish scowled, but he didn’t have an immediate retort.
26
Colbie didn’t give him a chance to think of one. She turned to

Gardek.
“And you,” she said, “must admit that Mr. Garrity just showed
you up. For all your experience, he has skills you lack. Wouldn’t it
make sense to take advantage of those abilities to find a target who
has managed to elude you?”
The bounty hunter grunted. “I can see your point on that, but
you haven’t said what you bring to this partnership you’re proposing.”
Colbie said, “You’re seeing it right now.”
“Enough,” Kurgan said. “I’m convinced your chances are better if
you all work together. And since it’s my job and my coin, that settles
it.”
Gardek’s wide mouth twisted. “If that’s the way it has to be.”
Eilish gave a martyred sigh. “I suppose that if my ‘partners’ stay
out of my way, I can still get the job done.”
Their prisoner spoke up. “You’ll get it done faster with my help.
I want in, too.”
Everyone looked at the alchemist in surprise. Colbie had half-
forgotten about him in the moments since Eilish finished with him,
and by the look of it, the others had, too.
“No,” Kurgan said. “Maybe you didn’t kill anybody, but you tried
to rob somebody in Knotted Cord territory without permission.”
Colbie assumed that obtaining such permission would have
required promising the gang a share of the loot.
Milo looked to Colbie. “You want the trollkin,” he said, “because
he knows the Undercity and he can fight. Well, thieves know their
way around down here in a way that even a bounty hunter doesn’t.
And I can handle myself in a scuffle.”
“Sorry,” Eilish said. “I was happy to prove you’re not the murderer,
but beyond that, you’re on your own.”
“Let’s not be hasty,” Colbie said.
27
The arcanist rounded on her. “A four-way split?” he demanded.

“With this rogue? You can’t be serious.”
She understood Eilish’s reaction. On the surface, Milo scarcely
seemed likely to prove a dependable ally. But instinct told her there
was more to him than met the eye—or perhaps she was simply
reluctant to abandon anyone to the nonexistent mercies of the
Knotted Cord.
“I believe he has something to offer,” she said.
“He might, at that,” Gardek rumbled. “Schoolboy, living life with
your nose stuck in books you wouldn’t know it, but a true battlefield
alchemist is damn useful in a fight. And Boggs is one, or he could
be if he wanted to; he gave me plenty of trouble before I took him
down. So if you humans are worried about the dangers of the dark,
horrible Undercity, let’s bring him along.”
Colbie was reasonably certain Gardek wasn’t worried. She
suspected he’d spoken up for Milo mainly to spite Eilish—and just
possibly because he regretted delivering the wrong man into Kurgan’s
hands.
That was all right. She’d take his support whatever his reasons for
giving it.
“What about his leg?” Eilish demanded. “How’s the man going to
fight, or even keep up with us, when he’s wounded?”
“It isn’t bad,” Milo said. “Once the bolt’s out and a bandage is on,
it won’t hinder me.”
“Anyway,” the trollkin continued, “I’m already a partner, and
I say the alchemist is in. Colbie says the same. That means you’re
outvoted, schoolboy.”
“But it isn’t actually up to us,” Eilish replied. “Is it, Mr. Kurgan?”
“No,” Kurgan said, “it isn’t. The alchemist deserves to be
punished, and I have a roomful of gamblers downstairs waiting to
bet on exactly how it goes.”
28
“I told you, Kurgan,” said Rorke, “I may be here unofficially, but

I can’t ignore murder. There are limits.”
Colbie looked Kurgan in the eye. “Please,” she said. “The
important thing is to catch the killer as quickly as possible, and I
truly believe Mr. Boggs can help.”
“Fine,” Kurgan growled after a tense moment. “But get the job
done, or maybe the next band of hunters comes after the four of
you.”
29
CHAPTER 5
Milo
M ilo felt a vague shyness as he led his companions down the steps
to his cellar room. Other people didn’t come here. Even his mentor
never had. Milo had lived and worked in the apothecary’s shop
before the Watch hauled the old man away for selling poison to
married folk who needed a remedy for unfaithful spouses, parents
who selfishly refused to pass on and allow their offspring to inherit,
and those facing other such impediments to a happy life.
Considering that most of his laboratory equipment was stolen
property—carted away from his benefactor’s shop after the man’s
arrest or subsequently pilfered elsewhere—Milo might have felt even
more reluctant to unlock the door had Rorke still been with the
group. Fortunately, the lieutenant had parted company with the rest
of them outside the Queen of Skulls.
The trestle tables, sand baths, athanors, crucibles, retort stands,
aludels, and other tools of his science took up most of the available
space. Looking around, Eilish Garrity murmured, “Hmm.” Milo
had the feeling he might actually have impressed the cocky arcanist.
Since alchemy and magic were related disciplines, it was possible
Eilish had some appreciation for what he was seeing.
Milo crossed the room, unlocked a wardrobe beside the
narrow cot, and replenished his bandoliers with grenades and a
knife. Fully armed once again, he felt more up to the mission of
tracking a deranged killer.
Not that it was a mission he necessarily intended to pursue to

its conclusion. When it had become clear that Kurgan wasn’t done
with him—innocence or relative innocence notwithstanding—he’d
said what would enable him to avoid a closer acquaintance with
Pytor Nazarko’s burrow-mawgs. He had no great desire to stalk a
mad-dog killer through the tangled warrens of the Undercity. If he
and his companions actually caught the murderer, his own share
of the bounty would come in handy, of course, and he’d rest easier
knowing the Knotted Cord had forgiven him his transgression. Still,
this wasn’t his sort of enterprise, and when the opportunity presented
itself, he might very well give the others the slip. He’d see how he felt
when the moment arrived.
He turned back around. “Ready,” he said.
“Then let’s get to it,” Gardek said. Perhaps, big as he was, he was
impatient to escape the cramped quarters. The quills on his head
were scraping the low ceiling.
“Of course,” Colbie said. “But the first step is to decide on a
strategy. We may as well talk here, out of the rain and the mist.” She
reached inside her armored greatcoat, brought out a leather flask,
and tossed it to the trollkin.
Gardek unscrewed the cap, took a swig, and nodded. “Good
hooch,” he rumbled.
The dark woman grinned. “Every decent mechanik knows how
to build a still.”
“I don’t mind chatting until the drink runs out,” the bounty
hunter said. “But I already came up with a strategy.”
“Find a hiding place and pounce on whoever wanders by?” Eilish
said with a bit of a sneer. He perched on the stool that, aside from the
cot with its thin horsehair mattress and coarse, tangled blanket, was
the only place to sit. “Because plainly, that’s foolproof.”
Gardek scowled. “I already admitted I made a mistake targeting
31
Milo, but appearances were against him. It doesn’t change the fact
that hiding and waiting for the quarry to come to you is sometimes
a good way to hunt.”
As he was speaking, he handed the flask to Milo, who took a
swig and found that he agreed with the trollkin’s opinion on the
liquor, at least. The moonshine burned pleasantly on its way down
and kindled a promising warmth in his belly.
Eilish asked, “How did you propose to identify the killer if he
did happen by but was neither manifestly undead nor, at that very
moment, stalking a victim?”
“I had the descriptions, vague as they were,” the bounty hunter
said, “and I know a suspicious character when I see one. You might
develop the instinct, too, schoolboy, if you last that long. If I’d
spotted the murderer, I could have tailed him until he did something
that proved he was our man.”
Accepting the flask from Milo, Eilish shook his head. “If we
discount your claim to some sort of preternatural intuition,
the whole approach comes down to luck and guesswork.” He
pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from a pocket of his cloak,
wiped the mouth of the bottle, and took a drink, then started
coughing.
Colbie looked up at Gardek and said, “You’re the professional
man hunter, and it may well be that your approach would have
caught the killer in time. But there are four of us now, all with our
own skills. Maybe we can come up with something more . . . active.
A way to finish the job faster.”
Gardek shrugged. “I’m listening.”
Colbie looked to Eilish, whose coughing fit was subsiding. “You
told me you have a map of the Knotted Cord’s part of the Undercity
with the locations of the murders marked on it.”
The arcanist used his handkerchief to wipe his mouth and
32
chin. “Yes,” he said, the hint of a smile on his lips, “and I’ll show
it to you if your toxic brew has left me the strength.”
Colbie held out a hand for the flask. “If you don’t like it . . .”
“Hold on—I’m not sure I kept any down the first time.” He took
another swig, managed to swallow it without choking, and then
surrendered the flask. He produced the map from another pocket
and unfolded it. After shifting a mortar and pestle to clear space on
a table, he set the parchment down. “Behold.”
Careful to stay clear of Gardek’s armor spikes, Milo gathered in
close with the others to look. Eilish had indicated the murder sites
with dots of red ink. The Queen of Skulls was at the approximate
center of them.
Colbie traced the edges of the area with her forefinger. “What if,”
she said, “the murders all happen hereabouts because the killer goes
to ground somewhere in the vicinity? If so, could we search and flush
him out?”
“No,” said Milo. “Sorry.”
The mechanik cocked her head. “Why not?”
“It may only be one part of the Undercity,” Milo answered, “but
the area’s still too big and complicated. There are caves and tunnels
this map doesn’t show, and all kinds of people and other things living
there and going about their business.”
“Milo’s right,” Gardek said. “Even if we split up, it wouldn’t be
practical—and if we did separate, I wouldn’t bet on the schoolboy
coming back.”
“Which I’m sure would break your heart,” Eilish drawled. “Very
well, then. If a general search won’t work, an examination of the
murder sites may prove enlightening.”
“It won’t,” the trollkin answered. “I already looked at them.”
“But you aren’t me.”
“No,” Gardek said, “I’m a better tracker than you ever dreamed of
33
being, and I didn’t find any sign. You certainly won’t now. The trail’s
too cold.”
Eilish scowled. “There may be something.”
“I agree,” Colbie said. “We’ll visit the sites. But Gardek has a
point: we can’t pin all our hopes on that alone. What else can we do?”
Milo shrugged. “Maybe somebody saw something.”
“I read the testimony of the witnesses,” Eilish said. “I can question
them myself, but I doubt I’ll elicit any information they didn’t already
give the Watch.”
“I don’t mean them,” Milo replied. The moonshine came back
around to him, and he took another fiery drink. “The Undercity is
full of people who’d cut out their own tongues before they’d talk to
the law about anything. Maybe one of them saw something.”
“Will they talk to us?” Colbie asked.
Gardek made an ugly smile. “One way or another.”
34
CHAPTER 6
Gardek
T he fourth murder had taken place near a sinkhole that plunged

into lightless depths. Eilish had insisted that everyone else stay
back while he prowled and crawled over the killing ground. Gardek
amused himself with thoughts of some huge, horrific creature from
the center of the earth popping up out of the hole and dragging the
arcanist to his doom before the companions he himself had shooed
away could intervene.
There were stories about such monstrosities, but so far as
Gardek knew, they were only stories, and in any case, despite his
embarrassment in Kurgan’s office, he wouldn’t have relished watching
Eilish die. The long-legged, yellow-haired human actually was clever.
It was just that he was too impressed by his own intelligence, which
in Gardek’s estimation made him the most annoying kind of fool.
If he weren’t, maybe Gardek wouldn’t have yielded to the impulse
to argue for Milo’s inclusion in the group. When he’d pointed out
that the little thief was also a capable battlefield alchemist, he’d
only been telling the truth. Still, the word “shifty” might have been
invented to describe him.
Colbie, though, projected a cool-headed common sense he was
coming to like despite himself—which made him wonder about one
thing.
“You know,” Gardek said, glancing around for any signs of
trouble, “it doesn’t matter that you’re down here with a big trollkin
with a big hammer, an alchemist with grenades, and a spell caster.

Nobody should ever come to the Undercity unarmed.”
Colbie smiled and opened her greatcoat. On the inside, wrenches,
screwdrivers, and mallets hung in loops. Plainly, they could serve as
makeshift weapons if need be, but more impressive was the bulky
slug gun riding her hip. Slug guns were made for cracking steamjack
armor, but they’d also put a gaping hole in a living target, provided
the shooter scored with the weapon’s single, none-too-accurate shot.
Colbie’s coat was so voluminous that the weapon didn’t make a
perceptible bulge.
“Better than nothing,” Gardek said. “Still, I’m surprised you didn’t
bring a ’jack along. We couldn’t wander around inconspicuously, and
there are spaces down here it would have trouble squeezing through,
but I never knew a mechanik to leave his machine behind if he
thought he might be heading into trouble.”
Colbie sighed. “I probably wouldn’t have, either, if I still had one.
But mine got blown to pieces.”
“How?”
“I was part of a mercenary company called ‘Nolan’s Elite.’ The
name was something of a joke; most of us weren’t all that elite.
Certainly Nolan himself wasn’t, especially when he had a bottle or
two inside him. Which was most days.” She shook her head and
continued, “A shipping company hired us to clean out a band of
rogues who were operating as both river pirates and highway bandits,
and nobody doubted we could handle them. They were just supposed
to be swampies like Milo here.” Her smile took the sting out of the
epithet.
The small man blinked. “How did you know?”
“You still have a hint of the accent. Anyway, the robbers turned out
to be more than we expected in pretty much every way possible: more
numerous, better organized, and better armed. There was a rumor
36
going around that Khadoran agents were sneaking into Cygnar and
giving support to brigands and such, so maybe that accounted for it.
In any case, the robbers got wind of our approach and set a trap for
us. What happened next wasn’t a massacre, but I had to sacrifice my
’jack to cover the retreat of some of my comrades.”
“Wasn’t there enough in the company coffers to buy a new one?”
Milo asked.
Colbie shrugged. “I didn’t stick around to find out. I’d had my fill
of Nolan’s Elite. I decided—”
She was interrupted by Eilish calling, “I’m done.” He got up off
the ground and brushed dirt from his armor and cloak.
Gardek, Colbie, and Milo advanced into the glow that Eilish’s
magic had kindled around the sinkhole. The arcanist had hoped the
illumination might reveal signs that had previously gone undetected,
but judging from his lack of excitement, he hadn’t found much of
anything.
Gardek felt a pang of spiteful satisfaction. “Well, go on,” he said
to Eilish. “Amaze us with your discoveries.”
Eilish sneered back. “The evidence is consistent with what I
observed at the previous sites. The blood spatter indicates that, as the
witnesses told the Watch, the killer is tall. Judging by the distance it
traveled, he’s also exceptionally strong.”
“In other words,” Gardek said, “you don’t have anything new or
helpful.”
“Well, I am at least ready to declare with certainty that we’re not
hunting a thrall or some other form of corporeal undead. None of
the sites revealed even a speck of the decayed flesh such a creature
would shed when lashing out so forcefully.” The blond man gave
Gardek a malicious smile. “Like Milo’s presumed guilt, that’s a bit of
random guesswork you need to leave behind.”
“It’s more than guesswork,” Gardek growled. As far as he was
37
concerned, the good thing about the alchemist’s exoneration was

that it meant the killer might be undead after all, and he was loath
to let go of the notion a second time, particularly on Eilish’s say-so.
“You’re forgetting the stink the witnesses spoke of.”
“I never forget any piece of evidence,” Eilish replied. The glow
around him faded as he allowed the magic to run out of energy.
“But I predict that when we catch the killer we’ll discover a different
explanation for the smell.”
“Unfortunately, we aren’t much closer to catching him yet,”
Colbie said, the light of the lantern in her hand revealing an old stain
on the skirt of her greatcoat. “Milo, this cave looks empty to me, but
do you know of anyone who spends time around here?”
The alchemist hesitated. Gardek had observed that he always
did when asked to give up one of his secrets. After a moment, the
man nodded and said, “It’s unlikely they saw anything, but we can
ask.” He then strode to the brink of the sinkhole. “It’ll take a little
climbing.”
Gardek peered over the edge. “I don’t see anything.” He grunted
before adding, “But I suppose if they’re friends of yours, that’s how
they want it.”
“Who does?” Eilish asked. “Who’s down there?”
“Mushroom growers,” Milo said.
Colbie cocked her head. “Mushroom growers don’t usually need
to hide.”
“That depends on the mushrooms they grow,” Milo said.
Gardek assumed he meant the illegal kind, the kind used to make
poisons, addictive and maddening intoxicants, and even substances
employed in certain dark occult rites.
Milo lowered himself over the edge of the sinkhole. “Climb
down where I am. This is where the handholds are. And if you’re
afraid of heights, don’t look down.”
38
Eilish followed, and then, reluctantly leaving his shield behind,

Gardek was the third to descend. As Milo had promised, there
were places to cling to, shallow ridges and cavities in the wall.
Unfortunately, a trollkin’s fingers were almost too big to grip them
properly, and he soon wished he’d abandoned his gauntlets as well.
Gardek groped with his booted foot, found some semblance of a
depression, and jammed his toes into it. He released one handhold
and reached for another.
Suddenly the piece of earth on which he’d just set his boot and
the single handhold he was currently clinging to crumbled as one.
Evidently the weight of his body and plate was too much for them.
He frantically felt for something else—anything else— to grab hold
of but managed only to scrabble at solid earth. He realized with
horror that he was sliding, which would very soon turn into falling.
Then he heard the unmistakable sound of steel on stone and his
left boot landed on something that threatened to give way for an
instant but then held. It was enough to let him find secure hand- and
footholds. Gardek glanced down and realized what he’d heard was
Eilish jamming a dagger into a cleft in the rocks to create a makeshift
piton, which was what had arrested his fall. The arcanist was staring
up at him, his face a mixture of relief and irritation.
Below them, Milo scrambled into a narrow opening in the wall no
one could have spotted from the chamber above. Eilish and Gardek
followed.
Evidently, when the sinkhole opened, it had provided access to a
lower cavern level. The tunnel snaked away into blackness, and the
cool, moist air smelled of dung—the mushroom farmers’ fertilizer,
he assumed.
Gardek turned to Eilish. It felt awkward to express gratitude to
a man with whom he’d squabbled from almost the moment they
met, but the trollkin managed a mumbled “Thanks.”
39
The arcanist grinned and held up his dagger; the blade was bent
nearly in half. He tossed the ruined weapon away. “I couldn’t very
well let you plunge on down and sweep me off the wall, too,” he said.
Colbie clambered into the tunnel. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes,” Gardek replied.
“Good,” she said. “Next time, we bring a rope and pitons.”
Eilish blinked. “Next time?”
Ignoring him and turning to Milo, Colbie asked, “What do we
do now?”
The man shrugged. “Announce ourselves, I guess. I’ve never been
to this place before. I just knew it was here.” He peered deeper into
the cave and called, “Zhag! Walu! It’s Milo Boggs! I need to talk to
you!”
The cry echoed away down the passage. Then a shrill voice cried,
“Go away!”
Eilish arched an eyebrow. “I thought these growers were your
friends.”
Milo shook his head. “I never said that. But they need alchemical
waste to feed to some of their crops, and I have uses for some of the
toadstools, so we trade.”
“Did you cheat them or something?” Gardek asked.
“No!” Milo snapped. He seemed offended, which Gardek found
amusing, considering the circumstances of their own meeting.
Perhaps the little human had one set of scruples he applied to
alchemy and a different, more elastic set for thieving.
“Then what’s the problem?” Colbie asked.
“My guess is that they don’t like the idea of anyone being down
here,” Milo said. “It’s likely they don’t pay the Knotted Cord, either.”
Or, Gardek thought, maybe the farmers partook of what they
grew despite its tendency to make the user suspicious and erratic.
“Well, I nearly fell to my death climbing down that hole,” he
40
said. “I’m not climbing up again without talking to somebody.”

“Agreed,” Colbie said. Eilish nodded.
Milo gave another shout down the passage. “I promise, nothing’s
wrong! But I—and the people with me—truly do need to talk to
you. So we’re coming in.”
This time the mushroom growers didn’t answer, and after waiting
several moments, the alchemist led his companions down the tunnel.
The passage appeared to have been cut by water, likely done as the
area’s underground rivers periodically sought to alter course over
generations, honeycombing the ground under Corvis. The glow of
the lanterns slipped over brown, dripping earth and smooth, eroded
stone.
Then, shining from where the cave widened out, more light
appeared up ahead. Zhag and Walu had their own lamps burning.
Beyond the natural doorway, mushrooms grew in beds of black
muck. Some looked ordinary enough, but others had caps as large
as Gardek’s shield or were studded with warty, tumor-like growths.
Empty hands raised to shoulder level, Milo passed through the
gap first. Gardek followed, sidling to negotiate the narrow space.
Once inside, he peered around the chamber. The growers had set
up housekeeping in an alcove equipped with a nest of filthy blankets,
a camp stove and battered tin cookware, several bushel baskets and
rope likely employed to move things in and out of the sinkhole, an
oboe, and a tambour. There was no sign of the farmers themselves.
Above Gardek’s head and just behind him, a high-pitched voice
cried, “Don’t move!”
A second one yelled, “Dump it! Dump it! Dump it!”
Gardek turned and looked up. Milo did the same. Zhag and Walu
were perched on a ledge above the opening the bounty hunter and
alchemist had just come through.
Both gobbers wore gas masks and were gaunt, ragged, and dirty.
41
Zhag, the male, had lost the tip of one long green ear to some mishap
and held a bushel basket tilted, poised to empty its contents on the
intruders below. Walu, the female, whose skin was a green so dark it
looked nearly black in the wan lamplight, held a rusty-headed spear
readied for thrusting.
Murmuring from the side of his mouth, Gardek asked Milo,
“What’s in the basket?”
“Spores, maybe,” the human replied. “Don’t move.”
“I coped with your fear gas.”
“My fear gas isn’t meant to kill.” The alchemist raised his voice to
address the gobbers. “See? It’s me, Milo, just like I said.”
“It’s not!” Walu snarled. She was shaking as if she could hardly
contain the urge to start jabbing at the targets below her. “It’s you
and strangers.”
Still on the other side of the gap with Eilish, Colbie called,
“Harmless strangers. We just want to talk to you, if you’ll only be
reasonable. If not—well, my companion out here is an arcanist. He
can cast bolts of flame into your home. Even if they don’t set you on
fire, they’ll burn your crops.”
“And then,” Milo added, “he and Colbie there will flee back down
the tunnel and up the hole to tell the Watch and the Knotted Cord
about this place. But there’s no need for any of that.”
Zhag and Walu exchanged uncertain glances, but he didn’t set
down the basket, and she didn’t stop pointing the spear at the top of
Gardek’s head.
Gardek considered possibilities. Could he snatch hold of the
spear before the gobber could thrust, then leap backward and
pull her off the ledge? He suspected he could, but would his
jump carry him far enough to avoid the cloud when the spores
poured down? And what about the others? Would Milo be able
to scramble to safety or yank on his gas mask in time? Would the
42
dust waft through the gap to Colbie and Eilish?

Milo kept smiling up at the gobbers. “What Colbie said is true,”
he told them. “Besides, I brought you something.” Moving slowly,
he unbuckled one of the pouches in his vest and brought out a vial
full of red liquid.
The growers stared. “Is that the tincture?” Walu asked, a different
sort of eagerness in her voice.
“The tincture you like to put in your special tea. Yes.” Milo pulled
out the cork with a tiny pop. “It would be a shame to kill me and
make me spill it.”
Walu peered back at him, then cackled and tossed the spear away
to clatter on the floor. “Nobody wants to kill you, Boggs. You have
to learn to take a joke.”
She discarded her gas mask and scrambled down from the
ledge. Zhag likewise unmasked, set down the basket, and made his
own descent. Meanwhile, Gardek and Milo moved back from the
doorway, making room for Colbie and Eilish. The arcanist peered
about curiously.
Walu thrust out her hand for the vial.
“Not yet,” Gardek said. Greedy though she was, his tone and his
glower balked her.
“Boggs said it was ours,” Walu sulked. She’d gone from bloodthirsty
to petulant.
“Technically, it’s a fee,” Colbie said, “but a fee for very light work.
As my friends and I have been saying, we only want you to answer
some questions.”
“You mean, to snitch?” Zhag asked.
“Not the kind of snitching that will come back on you,” Eilish
said. “Surely, every sane resident of the Undercity wants the rash of
tunnel murders stopped, and that’s the matter we’re investigating.”
“One of the murders happened right at the top of the sinkhole,”
43
Milo said. “If you saw or heard anything, we need to know about it.”
The gobbers looked at each other. Zhag said, “I saw the killer.”
Eilish’s eyes opened wide. “Did you, now? Please, tell us all about
it.”
“I wasn’t down here,” said Zhag. “I’d gone to sell some of the
bluecaps, and I was coming back through the tunnel that snakes
around and comes up in the Armorer’s Bourg.”
Colbie nodded. “Go on.”
“Well, I had my lantern, so I could see there was a human walking
along ahead of me. Then I heard—and smelled—something coming
up fast behind me.”
“What kind of odor was it?” Eilish asked.
Zhag shrugged. “I don’t know. Something nasty enough to
make me think right away of the stories I’d heard about the
killer. Anyway, I looked around and there he was, muffled up in
a hooded cloak and rushing out of the dark. I spun around to
run and noticed a kind of crack in the tunnel wall. I dropped the
lantern, dashed to that crack, and jammed myself inside.”
“Did you really expect to hide successfully?” Eilish asked. “At the
very least, the killer had already seen the light of your lantern moving
along.”
Zhag shrugged. “It worked. The killer charged right on by me. He
attacked the human instead.”
“I hope you saw him up close as he passed,” Colbie said.
“Yes and no,” the gobber answered. “I was peeking out of the
crack, so he was only in sight for an instant. The cloak and hood
covered everything. And I didn’t have my light anymore. It was back
lying on the ground.”
“Think,” Gardek said. “You must have noticed something.”
“I think he had something metal in his hand. I’m pretty sure I
saw it gleam.”
The murder weapon, Gardek thought, but without a better
44
description, the detail wasn’t helpful. “Anything else?”

“Just that he was big. But you already know that, right?”
“Yes.” Gardek sighed. Damn it, for a moment he’d imagined they
were about to make real progress, but this information was simply
more of the same.
Zhag eyed him speculatively and then said, “You understand, I
don’t mean just big like a human. I mean big like you.”
“No,” Eilish said, “that, we did not know. No one has reported it
clearly and unequivocally until now. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” said Zhag.
“Good,” Colbie said. “Milo, please give our friends here their
payment. They just earned it.”
45
CHAPTER 7
Eilish
A t a corner table, two dwarves with flagons of beer in front of

them were debating an esoteric point regarding the Rhulic laws on
duels and feuds. As Eilish led his companions past the discussion,
he gave his head a tiny shake. People could be so thick. The idea
that slaughter could or should abide by rules was inherently absurd.
He found a table at the other end of the tavern, a dingy little
dirt-floored establishment lit by stinking tallow candles dripping fat
into their grease pans. He and his partners could talk without being
overheard here; the place was emptying out.
In theory, a precinct shrouded in perpetual darkness had little
reason to pay heed to the progression of night and day. But the
Undercity did, at least to a degree. Perhaps the inhabitants found it
convenient to follow roughly the same schedule as the rest of Corvis.
The thought of sleep triggered a yawn. Eilish smothered it with
his hand.
The barkeep, a surly man with a sty in his eye who seemed to wish
they’d taken their business elsewhere, eventually brought a round of
drinks, and then Eilish unfolded his map and spread it on the table.
“Where do we look for trollkin?” he asked.
Perched on a chair that was too small for him, Gardek scowled.
“The gobber didn’t say the killer’s one of my kind,” the bounty hunter
said. “All we know is he’s bigger than a human.”
“Granted, it could have been an ogrun, but my instinct says
trollkin,” Eilish replied. “Ogrun obey strict codes of behavior and are
pragmatic when it comes to violence. These killings are too savage
and undisciplined. No offense.”
Gardek shook his head and glowered. “What about the stink?”
“What about it? Have you taken a whiff of yourself lately?” Eilish
raised a hand to forestall the trollkin’s angry retort. “I apologize. That
was cheap, and more important, unfounded.” He shook his head. “I
can’t explain the smell yet.”
Gardek held his gaze for another moment, then grunted. “Forget
it. Naturally, we’re going to follow the one lead we’ve got, and this
time, I don’t need Milo to tell me where we need to go.” He pointed
to a spot just outside the constellation of red dots. “Backbreaker
kriel.”
“Maybe,” Milo said, “you need me to say we should stay out of
there.”
“Why?” Colbie asked.
“The trollkin there don’t like outsiders,” Gardek said.
Eilish said, “Even so, if you vouch for the rest of us, won’t we be
all right?”
Gardek sneered. “What do you think, that all the trollkin in
Corvis are friends?”
Eilish realized he had more or less been assuming exactly that. He
really was tired. “No, of course not.”
“Good,” Gardek said, “because I’m a thief taker. The Backbreakers
are thieves. Also extortionists and toughs for hire. I’ve hunted a few
over the years.”
Colbie took a drink and wiped foam from her upper lip. “They
won’t be happy to see you; point taken. But if we watch each other’s
backs, we can cope.”
“Let’s hope so,” Eilish said. He tensed his jaw to hold in another
yawn. “Should we get some rest and meet back here at noon?”
47
“That sounds like a good idea,” Milo replied, perhaps a shade too
quickly.
Gardek snorted. “I imagine it sounds especially good to someone
eager to part company with the rest of us and not come back.”
Eilish said, “If Milo’s afraid, then as far as I’m concerned he’s free
to leave. He was Kurgan’s prisoner. He isn’t ours.”
The alchemist glowered as though Eilish, or Eilish and Gardek
together, had hurt his pride, even if their suspicions were correct.
“I’m not afraid,” he said, “and I’m not looking for a chance to run
out on you.”
“I believe you,” Colbie said to him. To the larger group, she added,
“If this trollkin gang is as dangerous as it sounds, it might be wise to
go in when most of them are asleep.”
“If you humans weren’t half asleep yourselves,” Gardek said.
Milo smiled. “I have a remedy for that.” He opened one of the
pouches integrated into his leather armor and took out a little pewter
bottle. He poured a dash of the brown liquid inside into his tankard,
then passed the container to Eilish.
Eilish doctored his own beer and somewhat warily sipped the
results. He just had time to notice that the brew now had a metallic
aftertaste before a jolt of pure alertness made him sit straight up in
his chair. For a moment, he felt like he was buzzing like a bee, only
on the inside.
“The effect lasts a few hours,” Milo said. “Time enough to get in
and out again.”
48
CHAPTER 8
Colbie
Vague forms, blocks of a different, more solid darkness, emerged

from the gloom ahead. Here and there, wavering torchlight revealed
a doorway or a street corner.
Clearly this was one of the neighborhoods that had originated
aboveground and had sunk to this level, where it had been rebuilt. A
large and relatively well-preserved one, actually.
“Hmm,” Colbie murmured.
“What?” Gardek asked. He kept his deep voice soft.
“I suppose I was expecting shacks, tents, or just open cave,” she
said. “No offense. I understand most trollkin here in the city live just
like the rest of us. But you and Milo make the Backbreakers sound
as savage as any kriel—or tribe of human barbarians—living beyond
the reach of civilization.”
Gardek chuckled. “You don’t give my kind enough credit. Even
out in the wilderness, we build houses and villages. The Backbreakers
didn’t build this, though. They just found a comfortable place to
squat and took it.”
“No doubt savagely evicting or killing any previous occupants in
the process,” Eilish said. “So, what happens now?”
“For starters,” Milo said, “we need to put out our lights.”
“Right.” Colbie hooded her lantern. Once her companions had
extinguished their own lights, the darkness in her vicinity was all but
absolute, and her companions seemed only shadows.
Gardek said, “I may know a way in that the lookout can’t see very
well from where he sits. Hopefully the kriel hasn’t changed things or
sealed the entry point.”
“I see we’re back to guesswork,” Eilish said.
“Do you want to watch the place from a distance for a couple of
days to make sure we know what’s what?” the bounty hunter asked.
“While, in all probability, the killer claims another victim or
two?” Eilish said. “No.”
“Then unless you’ve got a better idea, this is the plan. It worked
last year, when I had to flush out a target.”
“Go,” Colbie said. “We’ll follow.”
Keeping low, they all skulked forward. Colbie wondered how
they’d pick out the maniacal Backbreaker from all the ones who were
merely brutal criminals. Maybe Gardek and Eilish would come up
with something clever.
Meanwhile, she drew what encouragement she could from the
fact that the two professional manhunters seemed satisfied with
their progress, even though it consisted of only the testimony of a
single mushroom-addled gobber. As much as the thief taker and the
“schoolboy” rankled one another, they plainly shared a zest for the
chase and a conviction that there was no malefactor they couldn’t
catch if they simply kept worrying at the problem. She respected
that attitude. It was the kind of tenacity that won on the battlefield.
Gardek passed two houses before dropping to his hands and knees
in front of a third. He crawled forward and wriggled underneath the
structure.
Colbie understood why the space was there. On the outskirts of
Corvis, with its perpetual rain and soft ground, people sometimes
built houses on supports like stubby table legs to keep them up out
of the wet. More often than not the effort only delayed the inevitable,
but some variation in the density of the soil had enabled this house
50
to remain poised slightly above the ground although its neighbors

had earth right up to their doorsteps.
She, Milo, and Eilish crawled in after Gardek. Beneath the house,
the darkness was impenetrable, and she dragged herself along by
reckoning alone. She told herself she couldn’t possibly wander off in
the wrong direction or fall in a hole, nor would she reach out and put
her hand on a hungry rat or some other inconvenient vermin.
In due course, she and her companions emerged to what was
merely near-total darkness amid the closely situated houses. The
lanky shadow that was Eilish brushed dirt from his cloak and plate,
his gauntlets clinking on his breastplate.
“Stop that!” Gardek whispered, and the arcanist froze. “No
unnecessary noise!”
The trollkin led them to a gate in a fence Colbie didn’t even see
until she came within two paces of it. On the other side, an alley
twisted deeper into the warren.
She was tense with the expectation that the next turn, or the
next, would bring one or more of the Backbreakers into view, but
that didn’t happen. Though she was glad, she found the situation
perplexing. Granted, the hour was very late, but even the most law-
abiding communities included those who had reason to be out at
night.
She wondered if she and her partners would need to break into
a house just to find somebody to question. But before she could
propose it, she heard deep voices singing a slow and somber tune up
ahead. She tried to make out the words but couldn’t.
“It’s Molgur-Trul,” Gardek whispered, naming the language of the
trollkin. “A hymn to Dhunia. That’s why we haven’t seen anybody:
they’ve all gathered for some sort of observance.”
“I’ll bet they really don’t want outsiders intruding on that,” Milo
said, “any more than we want to come upon the whole kriel at once.”
51
“You aren’t wrong,” the bounty hunter replied, “but today’s not
the changing of the seasons. If they’re all assembled and calling out
to the Great Mother, something special is happening.”
“Can you be more specific?” Eilish asked.
“Not without taking a look.”
Colbie took a breath. “Then we will.”
They skulked forward, and the singing grew louder. Finally, their
course brought them to a balustrade and wide stone stairs leading
downward. At the bottom of the steps was a circular sunken plaza
that once had likely served as the hub of the neighborhood—and, in
fact, fulfilled the same function here. Dozens of trollkin stood facing
a pile of wood at the center of the space. Squinting, Colbie could just
make out the body of a trollkin female laid out on top of it.
“A funeral,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Gardek said. “I guess it’s nearly dawn, at least by their
reckoning. Most Dhunians bury their dead, to return them to the
Mother, but some of the city kriels like the Backbreakers have their
own way of doing things. They believe fire will send the soul into the
next life with the rising of the sun. They bury the ashes after.”
Eilish leaned out over the balustrade, peering at a scene obscured
by darkness and distance. Colbie winced even though she knew it
was unlikely any of the Backbreakers would spot him. The gloom
would mask him, and the trollkin were intent on their farewell.
From the sound of it, a slowing tempo coupled with swelling
volume, the hymn was reaching its conclusion. A trollkin near the
pyre picked up a torch and moved closer still. The torchlight ran up
the heaped wood to illuminate the body on the top.
Eilish cursed.
“What’s wrong?” Colbie asked.
“Are you blind?” he snapped. “The wounds on the corpse! Those
are sure signs of our killer.”
52
“And the Backbreakers didn’t inform the Watch,” she said,

“because Backbreakers don’t talk to the Watch.”
“Exactly,” the arcanist said. Then, when the hymn ended and the
trollkin with the torch raised it high, he bellowed, “Stop!”
“Shut up!” Milo said.
Eilish shouted down to the Backbreakers, “I need to examine that
body!”
Trollkin turned toward the staircase. The one with the torch,
however, did not. He was evidently resolved to perform his office
despite interruptions and distractions.
Eilish spoke an incantation, and luminous blue runes flickered in
the air around him. He stretched out his arm, and a flare of power
leapt from it and hit the torch-bearing trollkin in the back. He
staggered and fell to one knee, dropping the torch.
“What have you done?” Milo said.
“Preserved the evidence,” Eilish replied. “I botched the runes so
the spell was all flash and no force. He won’t be hurt—much.”
Colbie was glad of that, at least. Still, she had no doubt that in
the eyes of the Backbreakers, Eilish’s precipitous act was a vicious,
unprovoked assault and sacrilege to boot. Their cries of outrage bore
her out.
“Blasphemy!” they shouted in more familiar Cygnaran.
“Intruders!” And, in due course, “Get them!”
Whereupon they charged the stairs.
53
CHAPTER 9
Milo
“Idiot,” Gardek growled, clearly angry at the arcanist’s reckless

act. The trollkin pulled the war hammer off of his back and took
up a fighting stance at the top of the steps. Colbie opened her
greatcoat and briefly put her hand on the butt of the slug gun
before choosing to ready a heavy ’jack wrench and a dagger instead.
She moved up beside the bounty hunter.
As far as Milo was concerned, that clinched it. All three of his
partners—former partners—were idiots. If they weren’t smart enough
to run away from a hopeless fight, they could die covering his retreat.
He whirled and sprinted back the way they’d come. After a while,
however, his initial fear gave way to another feeling he couldn’t quite
identify. Regret? Maybe even shame? Either way, it was ridiculous.
Disgusted with himself, Milo pulled on his gas mask, turned, and
started running back toward the building commotion.
The first of the Backbreakers had reached the top of the stairs.
Gardek was fighting them, but not with the powerful swings Milo
had come to expect. He jabbed with his hammer instead, issuing
blows meant to stun and knock back, not smash skulls or crush
chests.
Gardek’s heavy armor helped the trollkin weather the first
moments of the assault. Sword cuts and hatchet chops bounced
off of his shield, pauldrons, and breastplate, while his blows hit
unprotected flesh.
Colbie and Eilish added their own efforts in support. Shifting and
dodging, the mechanik protected Gardek’s flank with her wrench.
The arcanist worked magic on the bounty’s hunter’s other side, runes
glimmering around his slim form. A glow momentarily surrounded
each of them before fading away. Milo recognized the spell: Eilish
had cast an enchantment that should blunt the force of incoming
attacks.
Their fierce defense notwithstanding, it looked to Milo as though
his companions were about to be overrun. He completed his sprint
by bumping into the balustrade and throwing a grenade into the
group of trollkin massed on the stairs.
A burst of strangle gas hindered those caught in the cloud. Some
fell down choking.
Milo grabbed a second grenade and thumbed the trigger cog.
Before he could throw it, he heard something whine past his head.
He cast about and found the source: a Backbreaker down in the plaza
had just fired a pistol at him. Two of his fellows were taking aim as
well.
Milo threw the grenade. The initial effects of the fear gas didn’t
keep the trollkin below from firing, but it threw off their aim, and
the shots missed.
Spotting motion out of the corner of his eye, he pivoted to face a
trollkin rushing him, gun axe raised to chop. The Backbreaker had
somehow slipped past Gardek and Colbie and decided to make a
run at Milo. He must have already fired and missed with the stubby
rifle—which would be scant consolation if the weapon’s blade split
his head open, as it very well might.
Milo dodged and tried to pull a knife, but the trollkin compensated
for the evasive maneuver, and the alchemist failed to pull the blade
from its sheath.
Although pressed by two foes of his own, Gardek saw the scene
55
unfold and managed to come to the alchemist’s aid. As his adversaries’

strokes clanged off his shield, the bounty hunter leaned far to the side
and used his hammer to swipe at the ankles of the trollkin menacing
Milo, sending the Backbreaker down onto the walkway face-first.
Colbie whipped her wrench down on the back of the enemy’s skull,
just where the crest of quills ended, and he went limp.
Gardek heaved himself upright and bulled forward. His massive
shield caught both of his opponents and sent them stumbling
backward. Fortunately, they had to stagger only a few inches before
they floundered off of the top step and toppled back down the stairs.
After that, the fight stalled. Milo doubted that meant the
Backbreakers had given up, and when he looked over the balustrade,
it was clear he was correct. Some bleeding and limping, others
coughing and retching among diffusing wisps of gas, the trollkin
looked like they were organizing a second assault that was bound to
prove more effective than the first impulsive one.
“Did we kill any of them?” Colbie panted.
Pulling an explosive grenade from his bandolier and putting his
thumb on the trigger cog, Milo replied, “Not yet.”
“Don’t!” Colbie snapped. “If we kill anyone, this can end only
one way.”
“You have a point,” Milo said. “We just need to run. Now.”
Down below, the Backbreakers were dividing into groups. Peering
through the darkness, he could just make out other staircases to
either side of the one that he and his partners had been defending.
When the trollkin attacked again, they’d do it from three sides.
Colbie rounded on Eilish. “How sure are you about the body?”
she asked.
Milo could see from the way the cocky arcanist’s lip curled
that even now, in dire circumstances, his reflex was to produce
one of his arrogant replies. But then he caught himself.
56
“I’m reasonably certain the female died at the murderer’s hands,”

Eilish said. I won’t know what I can learn from the corpse until I
examine it.”
“So you risked our lives on a guess?” Gardek rumbled. He sounded
more amused than upset, as though a chance to chafe Eilish trumped
mundane concerns like survival.
Eilish smiled a crooked smile. “You’re a bad influence.”
Renewed motion from the Backbreakers interrupted their
lighthearted exchange. One band had started jogging for the stairs
on the right, while another headed toward those on the left.
Colbie looked at Gardek. “There has to be a leader, someone who
can call the others off.”
“Maybe the shaman,” the thief taker answered.
Milo surmised that was the trollkin who had attempted to light
the pyre. He was back on his feet, but unlike the others he was
hanging back near the woodpile and the corpse.
“If you can keep the others occupied for a few moments, perhaps
I can get to him,” Eilish said.
Whatever Eilish meant to try, lingering here was clearly reckless.
Milo could scarcely believe that he’d come back—or that he now
meant to stand his ground. Counterbalancing the fear, however, was
a surprising, half-hysterical sensation that he found exhilarating.
Down the promenade that curved away to the right, one contingent
of Backbreakers had reached the top of the stairs. Howling and firing
off a shot or two, the enraged trollkin charged.
Milo tossed the grenade Colbie had told him not to throw before,
but he tried to land it short. If he’d judged properly, the blast likely
wouldn’t kill, but maybe it would knock the oncoming Backbreakers
back and give them reason to reconsider their current course of
action.
He grabbed a smoke grenade.
57
CHAPTER 10
Gardek
Gardek was fixated on the Backbreakers swarming up the central

stairs, but he could hear explosions behind him as Milo’s grenades
banged off to the sides. Then a closer, different boom shook the
air; Colbie had probably fired the slug gun over the heads of the
trollkin advancing on one flank or another. With luck, the big
round screaming over their heads would balk them for a moment.
Gardek noticed that neither of his comrades had thrown a grenade
or taken a shot at the Backbreakers climbing up at him. He supposed
he appreciated the implied compliment, but it wasn’t going to make
the next few seconds any easier.
He waited until the trollkin below him had nearly closed the
distance, and then he bellowed and charged down at them. He
hoped the berserker tactic would catch them by surprise.
It seemed to. His shield rammed into one Backbreaker and flung
him backward. He flicked the hammer and broke a jaw, then swung
again and smashed a forearm. For humans, such injuries would have
been potentially crippling, but they were far less serious to a trollkin.
Then his foes began striking back, cuts and thrusts clanking and
scraping against his armor. He pivoted to attack a swordsman, and in
the close quarters one of his armor’s spikes ripped a gash in the chest
of a different foe.
So far, so good—but his good fortune couldn’t last.
CHAPTER 11
Eilish
The second assault had begun. Eilish waited until all the
Backbreakers except for the shaman had either rushed up onto
the same walkway level as the intruders or climbed up the central
staircase to confront Gardek. Then, insisting to himself that it
wasn’t that long a fall, he scrambled over the balustrade, hung by
his hands for an instant, and dropped.
He’d read the way to survive a fall unharmed was to relax, land
with knees bent, and topple over sideways as opposed to forward
or backward. Despite following that protocol, he still landed hard
enough to rattle his bones. After he’d weathered the jolt and took
stock, however, he judged he’d survived with nothing worse than a
few bruises.
He scrambled to his feet, drew his sword, and charged the
shaman—who saw him coming and snatched a pistol out of a cloak
pocket.
Eilish veered in an effort to dodge. The gun flashed and banged,
and the hasty shot missed.
The arcanist was now close enough to see the shaman was old,
with a stooped frame and a craggy chin. Trollkin didn’t slow down
much with age, unfortunately; he was still likely stronger than the
human rushing him.
An awkward flailing blow revealed he was no longer as quick
as he might once have been. Eilish sidestepped the attack and
clouted the shaman with the pommel of his weapon.

The trollkin staggered. Eilish hit him again and dropped him to
his knees. Then he snatched a handful of quills, pulled his head back,
and poised his sword to slice the shaman’s throat.
“Call off your friends!” he said.
The Backbreaker swallowed. “No.”
Eilish could tell the shaman didn’t want to die, but he seemed
resolute. His pride was at stake. Keenly aware his partners could have
only seconds left—if it wasn’t too late already—he sought to find the
words that might convince him.
“Did you care about the female on the pyre?” he asked. “Do want
her killer punished? That’s why my friends and I are here! We need
to examine the body so that we can catch him!”
The old trollkin thought for a brief moment. “Let me up,” he said.
As Eilish did, it belatedly occurred to him to wonder if the shaman
even could stop the battle raging on the elevated promenade—or
stop it in time, anyway. The trollkin hurried over to a table laden
with funereal items, lifted a ram’s horn trumpet to his lips, and blew
several blasts in quick succession.
Those bleating, echoing notes produced the desired effect. Eilish
couldn’t make out much of what was happening above the plaza,
but amid the drifting veils of gas and smoke he discerned a general
cessation of motion.
“Stop fighting!” the shaman shouted. “Bring the outsiders to me!”
Then he turned to Eilish. “Make good on your promise. Otherwise,
you and your friends will wish we’d killed you quickly.”
60
CHAPTER 12
Colbie
C olbie surrendered her bloody dagger and wrench to a trollkin

armed with a mace. The slug gun lay where she’d dropped it before
the motions of battle had moved her away from it and ultimately
put her back against a wall.
As the trollkin grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the staircase,
she peered about, looking for Gardek and Milo. Miraculously, both
of them were still alive. Eilish had accomplished his task in time,
although it was difficult to imagine how.
She found out when the shaman told his fellow Backbreakers why
he’d called them off. As she might have predicted, some of them
looked unhappy about it.
“Blood calls for blood!” snarled one trollkin. His broad mouth
was pulped and bloody, and several of his teeth were missing. Colbie
suspected Gardek’s hammer was responsible.
The shaman sneered. “They gave us a few bumps and scratches.
Are you a gobber or a human to whine about such things? Jussika
is dead! Dead and unavenged! These people claim they can remedy
that.”
A voice called from the rear of the crowd. “And if they don’t, then
we can kill them?”
“Yes,” the shaman said, and to a degree, that mollified his fellows.
Colbie looked up at Gardek. “I’m worried they’ll kill you anyway,”
she whispered, “considering your history with them.”
“I never killed any of them with my own hands,” the bounty

hunter replied. He had a long scrape on the blue-green hide above
his left ear. “I just captured them; that was business. These tunnel
killings . . . well, they’re something uglier. They might let me walk
away today and hope for another chance at me tomorrow. If the
schoolboy’s hunch pans out.”
“Or he can come up with a good lie,” Milo said.
Eilish drew himself up straight. “Let’s start by establishing the
basics,” he said to the shaman. “Where exactly did you find Jussika’s
body?”
“In the tunnel that runs off to the north,” the old Backbreaker
said. “If she’d gotten just a few steps closer to home, the lookout
might have seen the attack.” He frowned. “But how did you find out
about it?”
“I have my ways,” Eilish said.
Evidently he wasn’t yet ready to reveal that they had actually
intruded on the kriel simply because Zhag suggested the tunnel killer
might be a trollkin. Given the temper of the crowd, Colbie approved
of the arcanist’s circumspection.
Eilish continued. “And exactly when did you find her?”
“Three nights ago, late,” the shaman said. “She’d been to the
Queen of Skulls to bet on the beast fights and play rum luck.”
“Interesting.” Eilish gestured to the corpse. “May I?”
The old trollkin nodded.
Colbie followed Eilish as he clambered onto the unlit pyre to
examine the body. He was the one who’d studied forensics, but
their lives were at stake. Anyone could miss something under such
pressure, and another set of eyes on the problem couldn’t hurt.
Evidently Gardek and Milo felt the same way, for they trailed along
as well.
Unfortunately, when she looked down at the shredded husk,
62
crisscrossed with dozens of gashes and reeking of death, no secret

revealed itself to her eyes. She just felt angry and sick.
Eilish, though, might be having better luck. Down on one knee
beside the body, he fingered his chin and murmured, “Hmm.”
“What do you see?” she asked.
“It was definitely our man who killed her,” the arcanist said. “You
can see—or at least I can—how the same hooked instrument ripped
the flesh. So forcefully and repeatedly that, the hardiness of a trollkin
notwithstanding, she couldn’t survive the assault.”
“We need a lot more than that,” Milo said.
“Patience,” Eilish said. “I’m getting to it. Aside from race, what
differentiates this victim from the cadavers I examined in the
morgue is that not quite all the wounds are slashes.” He pointed
to a vertical row of four indentations on the side of Jussika’s face.
“I’m picturing a blade with a studded guard, like a trench knife.
The killer cuts once and then again, this time with a backhand
stroke. But he misjudges the distance, or his victim moves into
the blow. Instead of the blade landing, the studs do.”
“He could have been wearing a knuckle-duster,” Gardek said,
but then he immediately shook his head. “No, it would have
made his grip on the blade clumsy, and you wouldn’t bother with
a knuckle-duster if you meant to cut someone to pieces. Not bad,
schoolboy.”
“Especially since skull crusher hilts aren’t all that common outside
the military,” Eilish said. He rose and faced the shaman. “Sir, you
may not like hearing this, but I believe the killer is a trollkin. He uses
an unusual dagger or short sword. The weapon hooks downward,
opposite the way a cutlass curves, and has a studded bell guard.”
The Backbreakers looked around, at first suspiciously, but then in
perplexity. At length, one growled, “None of us has a knife like that.”
“They think they can turn us against one another,” said another.
63
“Get them!” called a third, and the kriel began to close in on

Colbie and her partners from every side.
“Then the murderer doesn’t wear the blade when he isn’t out
killing!” Eilish said. But the trollkin weren’t listening.
Colbie opened her greatcoat. She grabbed a screwdriver and
sought to pass it to Milo.
The alchemist, however, didn’t notice. He was busy peering at the
dents on the corpse’s face. “Not a skull crusher,” he said. “Rings.”
“Damn,” Eilish said with a frown. “I think you’re right. I should
have caught that.” Gardek cursed under his breath and shared a look
of recognition with Milo, and they both nodded at a shared idea.
The alchemist jumped up and shouted, “Stop! We were wrong!
But now we know who the killer really is!”
Still, none of the Backbreakers listened.
Bellowing a battle cry, Gardek sprang off the pyre and lunged at
the nearest trollkin. His captors had confiscated his hammer and
shield, but they hadn’t divested him of his armor. Arms upraised, he
was poised to tear into the advancing trollkin using the spikes that
jutted from his wrists and forearms.
Perhaps mindful of the prowess the thief taker had displayed only
minutes before, the other trollkin hesitated.
“Listen, damn you!” Gardek roared, spittle flying from his mouth.
“We’re telling you, we know now who killed Jussika! What’s even
bigger and stronger than a trollkin?”
“An ogrun?” the shaman asked.
Gardek nodded. “Right. And we’ve just figured out that the killer
wears a ring on every finger. Does anyone know of an ogrun like
that?”
“Natak Warbiter!” called a female in the crowd.
The bounty hunter nodded. “Right again.”
Eilish turned to Milo. Though the arcanist was trying to maintain
64
his usual air of composure, Colbie thought that beneath the surface
she could see relief at being rescued mingled with chagrin at having
arrived at a false conclusion. “Catch me up,” Eilish said. “Who
precisely is Natak Warbiter?”
“He works for the Patient Weavers,” Milo replied. Colbie had
heard of them. They were yet another of the Undercity’s several crime
syndicates. “The last I heard, he was keeping order and collecting
debts for the Braggart’s Smile. That’s their gambling house. He has a
reputation for enjoying bloodshed.”
Meanwhile, the Backbreakers were muttering to one another.
“You’re just guessing!” one of them eventually called. “One moment,
one of us is the killer. The next, it’s some ogrun!”
“No!” Eilish said. “Please, just listen! From the start, people
assumed a lunatic is murdering random targets of opportunity. The
savagery of the attacks gives that impression, and it fooled me as
well.” He gave Gardek an apologetic look. “But one fact doesn’t fit
that assumption: more than half the victims were leaving the Queen
of Skulls. Jussika was, and my partners and I know of an instance
in which the murderer passed right by one potential victim to run
down another—who I’ve learned had likewise been to the Queen of
Skulls.”
The shaman frowned. “You’re saying Natak’s out to make people
afraid to go to one gaming house so they’ll go to its rival instead?”
“The Knotted Cord and the Patient Weavers have a history of
trying to undermine each other,” Gardek said.
“Then we need to find Natak,” the shaman said.
Colbie took a breath. “No. My partners and I do.” The trollkin of
the kriel started to protest, and she shouted over them. “This is our
manhunt, and we have the right to finish it! You wouldn’t even know
about Natak if not for us.”
“We’re working for Lon Kurgan, and he wants us to deliver the
65
killer alive if possible,” Gardek added. “You have my word: if we

manage that, I’ll get you an invitation to watch whatever the Knotted
Cord does to him.”
The Backbreakers stood and mulled over the offer. Eventually
discerning a consensus, the shaman said, “All right. When you put
it that way.”
66
CHAPTER 13
Milo
T he stack of crowns in front of Milo was growing, and he wished

he could stop playing before the inevitable decline began. He’d
never had a taste for gambling and didn’t see how anyone with a
brain could enjoy subjecting himself to the whims of simple chance.
He preferred the surprises that occurred in the laboratory—at least
they revealed the secrets of natural law.
Two tables over, it looked like Gardek was losing. Judging from
his grin, however, his run of bad luck hadn’t diminished his zest for
the game. The trollkin’s enjoyment was difficult to understand given
that he manifestly did have a brain.
In fact, Gardek was all right. So were Eilish and Colbie. For a
moment, Milo smiled at the memory of what they’d done in the
Backbreakers’ lair. It had been pure insanity, but they’d come through
it alive. Unmasking and capturing Natak Warbiter should prove easy
by comparison.
Or at least it should if Natak would only cooperate.
Milo and his partners had kept the ogrun under surveillance for
three days, and Natak had perversely refused to take up a distinctive
hook-shaped blade, disguise himself in a malodorous cloak and
hood, and venture forth to find a victim. In fact, he hadn’t left the
Braggart’s Smile for the past two days, eating and sleeping in what
amounted to a Patient Weavers’ stronghold.
By Milo’s reckoning, however, that wrinkle in their plans shouldn’t
prevent them from collecting the reward. With some scheming,

it should be possible to sneak some poison into Natak’s food or
drink. He’d die, Milo and his partners would inform Kurgan they’d
dispatched the murderer, and that would be that.
Gardek, Eilish, and Colbie objected to this sensible approach.
Though convinced of Natak’s guilt, they had some inexplicable
qualms about moving against him until they had secured some hard
proof. So the four hunters watched and waited.
Across the room, a man cursed and stood up from his game of
black argus.
Closer to hand, a buxom woman in a low-cut, clinging gown
blew on another gambler’s dice, which he then sent clattering down
the table. “High tide!” he crowed.
Milo’s inspected his new hand, which included a mix of blades,
wheels, and skulls without any pairs or even high cards. He mucked
as soon as it was his turn to bet.
Finally, Natak headed for the exit.
The ogrun was even taller and burlier than Gardek, with a nub of
a nose and a slab of jaw beneath a broad mouth. Unlike the trollkin,
he had black hair and bushy, upswept eyebrows; a brownish tone to
his skin; and prominent, pointed ears. Somehow these features made
him seem a bit more human despite his size.
They didn’t, however, make him any less intimidating to members
of any of the other races currently patronizing the Braggart’s Smile.
His size, the great axe dangling in his fist, and his perpetual sneer
ensured that everyone—even his own kind and other Patient
Weavers—scurried to clear a path for him across the crowded room.
However eager Milo was to follow him out the door, he knew
he mustn’t be obvious about it. After silently counting to ten, he
rose, stretched, tossed a tip to the dealer, and scooped the rest of
his winnings off the table.
68
Once outside, he cast about until he located Natak, who was

striding without any particular haste or furtiveness down the block of
more-or-less illicit businesses the Weavers operated in this particular
cavern. At the moment, the ogrun was passing a ramshackle structure
housing a thieves’ market.
Gardek emerged from the Braggart’s Smile and caught up with
Milo, and they set after Natak together. “He would go now,” the
trollkin said. “I’d just set a trap for the fellow two seats to the right.”
Milo snorted. “This is a bit more important.”
“If Natak really is going hunting. We don’t know that.”
“But I think he is. Don’t you?”
Gardek grinned. “To tell the truth, yes. Sometimes you can feel it
when something’s going to happen.”
Once Natak had passed just beyond the thieves’ market,
Colbie wandered out of it. Subsequently, Eilish emerged from an
establishment where the patrons smoked powdered fungus of the
sort Zhag and Walu grew. The stuff was a potent hallucinogen, but
the arcanist was clear-eyed and steady on his feet. Evidently he’d
avoided inhaling much of the fumes, and the counteragent Milo had
supplied had neutralized whatever did enter this system.
Milo and his partners hadn’t all kept watch over Natak every
moment of the past few days. They had needed to sleep, and it might
have attracted attention if any of them had spent too much time
lurking in this patch of Patient Weaver territory.
He was glad they were all here now. He doubted it would take all
four of them to subdue their quarry, but it felt right that they should
finish their task together.
Natak departed the block of businesses and tramped onward
into a more sparsely used section of tunnel. With less traffic, Milo
worried that the ogrun would notice people were following him,
but Natak never looked back. Maybe he was too eager to retrieve
69
his hook and shroud and get on with the slaughtering.

The passage forked. Natak shook a container of bottled light to
life and took the branch to the right—a narrow, descending path
that appeared to see little traffic.
A good place for a murderer to stash his gear, Milo thought.
Groping their way along in the dark, he and his companions
relied on Natak’s light and the tramping of his feet to guide them.
Then the rhythmic noise stopped.
Milo peeked around a bend. Natak was standing at the far end of
a larger, oval-shaped space lit by three other lanterns. The ogrun still
had his back to his pursuers, which meant he was facing the wall of
the cul-de-sac.
“I don’t see the cloak or the murder weapon,” Eilish whispered,
frustration in his voice. “What in Morrow’s name is he doing?”
“I’m tired of skulking about,” Milo said. “Let’s take him prisoner
and beat the truth out of him.” He pulled a grenade from his
bandolier.
Then something banged and stung his thigh, and a cloud of gas
blossomed around him and his companions. As he started choking,
he wondered if his own grenade had detonated due to some flaw in
its manufacture. But the metal orb was still intact in his hand.
70
CHAPTER 14
Gardek
Gardek tried to keep from breathing in the gas. It wasn’t easy; he’d
been exhaling when the grenade exploded.
He could barely see. In addition to burning his airways, the fumes
stung his eyes and blurred his vision with tears. Muddled as he was,
instinct told him it would be a bad idea to move forward into the
open space with Natak. He began to stumble back the way he and
his partners had come instead.
Another grenade banged, and more vapor surged up in front of
him. At the same instant, a firearm flared and barked, and a round
whizzed between his arm and his side.
Somebody—probably a few somebodies—had shadowed Gardek
and the others down the narrow tunnel even as they were shadowing
Natak. As long as those attackers kept throwing grenades, the way
out would be impassable to everyone but Milo in his gas mask, and
the alchemist would likely get himself shot if he tried to escape.
Gardek stumbled back toward Natak and untainted air. On the
way he grabbed hold of the helplessly coughing Eilish and dragged
him along.
They blundered out into the open just ahead of Colbie and Milo.
The alchemist now wore his gas mask.
That was the only positive development. Now that they’d been
herded into the oval space, it was plain that, far from being oblivious
to his pursuers, Natak had actually lured them into an ambush.
Through tear-blurred eyes, Gardek saw several figures emerge

from niches at floor level that had been invisible from the tunnel.
Another perched on a ledge partway up a wall.
Gardek told himself he and his partners could win this fight
despite the odds. They’d survived the Backbreakers, after all.
“Fight!” he bellowed, or tried to. He coughed before he’d quite
gotten the word out.
Natak rushed him. Gardek snatched his war hammer off his back
and readied himself. The ogrun’s initial axe stroke rang on his shield.
Gardek struck back, and Natak caught the blow on the head of
the axe.
They traded several more attacks, neither scoring. Then Gardek
struck another blow much like his first one. If it drew the same parry,
maybe he could knock the axe out of the ogrun’s grip or break the
head of the weapon loose from the shaft.
Unfortunately, Natak didn’t defend in the same way. He stepped
forward on the diagonal, and Gardek’s blow missed. Now in too
close to chop with the axe, the ogrun rammed the top of it into his
opponent’s jaw.
The jolt sent Gardek reeling backward. He was lucky it hadn’t
snapped his neck, but his luck was unlikely to hold. He couldn’t
catch his breath or his balance, and he couldn’t position his shield
where he needed it to be—and Natak was lunging for a follow-up
attack.
Then Milo rushed in on Natak’s flank. He held a grenade in his
left hand, but it was the vial in his right that he evidently meant to
throw; he couldn’t have used the bomb without catching Gardek in
the detonation.
A firearm banged overhead. Milo jerked and went rigid as the
shot hit him, momentum pitching him forward onto his face.
Before he had a chance to stand up—assuming he even could—a
72
ruffian scrambled over to him and bashed him with a club.

Gardek glanced up. As expected, he saw Canice Gormleigh
perched on a ledge above the melee in her intricately tooled red and
yellow armored greatcoat. Tall and solidly built for a human woman,
with a round, freckled face framed by an unruly mane of coppery
curls, Canice was a mercenary who presently ran the Braggart’s Smile
for the Patient Weavers. She was also a veteran of the celebrated
Llaelese Order of the Amethyst Rose, mentored by Lyto Divacci
himself. Canice was a gun mage, a crack shot who’d mastered the art
of infusing her rounds with arcane power. Grinning at having felled
Milo, she peered about, no doubt seeking another target.
Her presence here made a bad situation worse, but Gardek
couldn’t do anything about it at the moment. At least Milo’s attempt
to rush to his aid and Canice’s shot in response had diverted Natak’s
attention for a critical instant. Gardek got his feet under him and
finally managed to fill his lungs without coughing out half the
breath. He readied his shield and charged.
The shield smashed into Natak and threw him stumbling
backward. Putting every iota of his weight and strength behind the
blow, Gardek pivoted at the hip and swung his hammer.
Overhead, Canice’s magelock pistol cracked. The rune-inscribed
bullet slammed into Gardek’s shoulder, ruining his attack against
Natak and blasting him off his feet entirely. The trollkin crashed to
the ground.
An instant later, a huge weight pinned him to the floor. Dazed,
Gardek looked up to see Natak kneeling on his chest, a mallet-sized
fist with a row of massive steel rings hurtling down.
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CHAPTER 15
Eilish
Gardek had hauled Eilish out of the gas-filled tunnel, and Milo
had done the same for Colbie. Still, it took the arcanist several
precious seconds to cough the noxious fumes from his lungs and
blink the tears from his eyes. He managed it just in time to see
Natak’s fist hammer down on Gardek’s face.
Eilish was glad the ogrun hadn’t opted to finish off the bounty
hunter with his great axe, but Gardek still wasn’t likely to get up
anytime soon. With Milo down as well, that left just Colbie and
Eilish to carry on the fight.
He told himself they still had a chance. Milo’s grenades had
incapacitated all but one of the common toughs, not counting
whoever had tossed the gas bombs and fired a couple of shots down
the tunnel. With luck, those rogues would hold their position for the
time being.
Natak jumped off Gardek’s motionless form and snatched his
axe from the ground. In a blur of motion, Canice thrust her spent
weapon back into the holster on her hip, reached inside her greatcoat,
and snatched another magelock pistol from a shoulder rig. Expensive
as such firearms were, it came as an unpleasant surprise that she had
a second one.
She could likely aim and squeeze the trigger before Eilish
could focus his will for a spell. Perhaps concluding the same
thing, Colbie fired her slug gun at the ledge.
That left Eilish to deal with Natak. As the ogrun raised his axe
and charged, Eilish drew on his magic. Glowing blue runes danced
around his outstretched hand.
Colbie’s shot banged into something. Eilish didn’t dare look away
from his own target to see if she’d hit hers.
Natak had almost closed to striking distance when Eilish sent two
bolts of azure force stabbing into the ogrun’s chest. Natak staggered
and fell.
Hoping the brute would stay down for the duration, Eilish turned
and saw Canice floundering half-buried in a mound of dirt. Colbie’s
round had evidently struck the ledge where the gun mage stood,
dumping her on the ground amid a little avalanche of earth.
Heavy wrench raised, Colbie charged her sister mercenary. The
last remaining ruffian sprinted to intercept her with a short sword
outstretched, but Colbie was ready for him. She turned, knocked the
blade away with her own makeshift weapon, and then whipped the
wrench down into his knee. Bone crunched, and he squawked and
fell. She dashed onward.
Unfortunately, that brief delay gave Canice time to collect herself
and rear up out of the dirt. When Colbie struck, the redhead swayed
backward to avoid the blow. Canice struck back instantly, reversing
a pistol in her grip to crack the butt against Colbie’s forehead. The
dark woman reeled.
Straining to muster any more arcane power from the reserves
of his own stamina, Eilish stretched out his hand at the gun mage.
Perceiving the threat, Canice turned, lined up the shot, and pulled
the trigger.
To no effect. Perhaps her spill down the wall had gotten dirt in the
firing mechanism, or maybe she’d damaged the gun by using it as a
club. Whatever the cause, it didn’t fire.
Meanwhile, runes encircled Eilish’s hand. Even as he savored the
75
thought of victory, a bang heralded a new cloud of choking vapors.

The foes back down the tunnel hadn’t stayed put after all.
His throat and lungs burning, Eilish doubled over, hacking. With
his concentration broken, the runes disappeared.
He tried to get clear of the gas, but the two or three staggering steps
he managed didn’t do the job. He kept on convulsively emptying his
lungs until everything went dark.
76
CHAPTER 16
Colbie
C olbie woke to a pounding head along with a raw throat and

stinging nasal membranes. She couldn’t remember what had finally
rendered her unconscious: a knock on the head or the gas. From
the way she felt, it could have been either—or both.
Nausea twisted her guts. She tried to lean over, but something
held her upright. All she could manage was to tip her head forward
and retch.
When she finished fouling herself, she discerned that after
relieving her of her gear, someone had tied her to a chair.
She tried to spit away the taste of bile and then, her vision
blurring and doubling, peered about. She was in a nondescript room
along with her three partners, all disarmed and secured. The Patient
Weavers had all but cocooned Gardek in padlocked chain and left
him on the floor, no doubt worried that ropes and a wooden chair
wouldn’t hold him. Eilish had a gag in his mouth and his hands tied
behind him; his head lolled forward.
Milo appeared to be unconscious as well. Although she didn’t
know where the alchemist had been hit, she remembered seeing
Canice Gormleigh shoot him. The gun mage had also shot Gardek in
the shoulder; his shirt was rusty with blood where the cloth showed
under the chain. His deep-set eyes were open, though.
“Eilish and Milo?” she croaked.
“Alive,” Gardek said. His bruised, swollen jaw slurred his speech.
“I saw them breathing.” His wide mouth twisted. “Damn it, we

stood up to all those Backbreakers!”
“The Patient Weavers took us by surprise,” she answered.
The room’s one door opened, and a cheery contralto voice said,
“I like to think there was more to it than that, love, but I’ll admit, it
was a close one. You can take comfort in that as you pass to Urcaen.”
With that, Canice sauntered into the room. She had a freshly
scrubbed look, and her long red tresses stuck out every which way.
She must have taken a bath to rid herself of her covering of dirt.
She hadn’t put her armored coat back on, but she wore a magelock
pistol strapped to each hip and a conventional handgun under each
arm. The myriad pockets in her vest and breeches might well contain
little holdout pistols and extra ammunition. Not that she was likely
to need weapons or bullets in the present circumstances—especially
with Natak following along behind her.
The ogrun moved stiffly, as though Gardek’s shield had bruised
his ribs or Eilish’s magical blasts had left him with some comparable
pain. His expression, a sort of eager sneer, promised worse to the
captives. Steel rings gleamed on the fingers of either hand.
“Why would you kill us?” Colbie asked. “Why even attack us? We
didn’t do anything to you.”
The gun mage chuckled. “Please! You’ve been stalking Natak here
for days, and I doubt you were bashfully admiring him from afar.
He has his virtues, but grace and beauty are not among them.” As
she and the ogrun neared Colbie, her nose wrinkled at the stink of
vomit.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Canice said. “The truth buys
you and your friends an easy death. If you lie or refuse to answer my
questions, Natak will go to work on you; he’s quite good at wringing
things out of people. It’s usually coin owed to our employers, but he
can also squeeze out information.”
78
“All right,” Colbie said. “We were shadowing Natak.”

His fists clenching, the ogrun made a noise like an animal
growling.
Canice gave Colbie a nod. “That’s a good start, if not a good idea.
Why were you following him?”
“Because he’s the tunnel murderer,” Colbie said. “My partners
and I believed he was committing the crimes because the Patient
Weavers wanted him to. But if that isn’t true—if he’s been acting on
his own—then you should thank us for unmasking the mad-dog
killer in your midst.”
Canice and the ogrun exchanged glances. Both looked puzzled,
and Colbie felt a surge of hope. With her captives at her mercy, the
gun mage at least had no reason to feign perplexity.
“What makes you think that?” Canice asked. “Yes, he has a
reputation for relishing the bloodier aspects of his work, but still. I
heard the killer stinks like a thrall or some other nasty thing.”
“We think it’s just his clothes that stink,” Colbie said. “The smell
is part of his disguise.”
“We established the killer is big like an ogrun,” Gardek interjected
from the floor. “Then we found marks on one of the victims that
show he wears rings like Natak’s.”
Colbie continued. “We also learned that he favors victims who
patronize the Queen of Skulls—the Braggart’s Smile’s rival. We
surmised Natak was targeting those gamblers to ruin the Queen of
Skulls’ business and drive trade your way. I still believe that. But
from the way you’re acting, maybe you didn’t know about it. Maybe
you wouldn’t have approved of such tactics.”
It belatedly occurred to Colbie that if Canice hadn’t known, she’d
just given Natak reason to strike down his boss, kill the prisoners,
and then concoct a story blaming them for the gun mage’s death.
But laying out the truth was the only play she had, and the ogrun
79
looked more bemused than homicidal.

Canice turned to Natak and put her hand on the pistol holstered
on her right hip. “It appears I need to kill you for exceeding your
authority,” she said.
The ogrun shrugged. “I understand.”
Then the two of them burst out laughing.
Canice turned back to Colbie. “Forgive me. It was cruel to raise
your hopes, but I couldn’t resist. Like everyone else in the Undercity,
I’ve paid at least a little heed to news of the killings. There were some
three weeks ago, weren’t there?”
“Yes,” Colbie said.
“Then Natak couldn’t possibly have done them. He was downriver
on Weaver business. You’ve been stalking the wrong scoundrel.”
Gardek said, “We wouldn’t have hurt him. We only fought back
to defend ourselves. We weren’t going to move on him until we had
proof.”
“Proof to satisfy who?” Canice asked. “Who hired you four to
find the killer, bounty hunter?”
Scowling, Gardek hesitated. At length, he said, “Lon Kurgan.”
The gun mage nodded. “That makes sense, and I believe it’s
everything I needed to know. Natak, will you do the honors? Quickly,
if you please. I gave my word.”
“I didn’t give mine,” the ogrun growled. But he moved behind
Colbie and took her aching head between his hands. She realized she
was one twist away from a broken neck.
“Wait!” she said. “It’s as Gardek said. We wouldn’t have attacked
Natak without proof of guilt.”
“That speaks well of you,” Canice said. “But you hurt some of
my people after we sprung our trap, and they’re the kind to hold a
grudge. A couple of them were already nursing one against the thief
taker here. Even if none of that were so, a criminal syndicate can’t
80
have people spying on it as it conducts business. So you see how it is.

You blundered, and you have to accept the consequences.”
“But how did we blunder?” Gardek asked. “At least tell us that
before we die. I’m good at my trade. I know how to watch someone
discreetly. I told my partners how to do it. But you spotted us
anyway.”
“To be honest, luck played a hand in it,” Canice answered. “We
started looking for people stalking Natak after we received a message
warning that somebody meant to kill him.”
“Who sent it?” Colbie asked.
“It was anonymous,” the gun mage said. “Left tacked to a wall.”
“When did you receive it?”
“Three days ago.”
“Enough stalling,” Natak said. He shifted his grip. His rings were
cold and hard, his calluses rough.
“Are you blind?” Colbie cried. “Don’t you see that the tunnel
killer sent the note?”
“No,” Natak said. His hands tightened on her head.
“Stop,” Canice said. “Maybe I do see. What are you thinking, my
dear?”
Colbie continued. “The killer is wily enough to employ a sort of
layered disguise. The hooded cloak conceals his face and form. The
stink makes some people think he’s undead or least unusual. If you
don’t believe that, maybe you spot the finger rings he’s wearing. That
observation takes you down another false trail.”
“One leading to Natak,” Canice said.
“And the killer made sure you’d be lying in wait for us if we followed
it,” Gardek added. “He must not like that we’re hunting him.”
“How would he know?” the redhead asked.
Gardek shifted inside his chains and made them clink. “We’ve
questioned a lot of people.”
81
“Interesting,” Canice said. “But none of that changes the

unfortunate fact that you injured some of my men and generally
stuck your noses where they don’t belong.”
“Well, it should!” Colbie said.
Canice cocked her head, tousled curls bouncing. “How so?”
“Once the fight broke out, we might have killed Natak.”
The ogrun snorted. “Unlikely.”
“Or killed someone,” Colbie said. “The real point is that if we
disrespected the Patient Weavers by poking around, the murderer
disrespected you more by maneuvering us all into a situation where
you’d end up solving his problem for him. Don’t you resent being
manipulated to serve as his pawns? Don’t you think your superiors
will resent it?”
Canice sighed. “You have a point. I suppose it falls to me to track
down the murderer and avenge the insult. As if I don’t already have
enough to do.”
“You’ll never find him,” Gardek said. “You’re one of the deadliest
fighters in Corvis, but you’re not a criminal hunter. I am, and my
partners have skills they can turn to the purpose as well.”
“Where were all these wonderful skills when the killer tricked you
into chasing after the wrong person?” the gun mage asked.
“Coincidental or manufactured, false leads are part of the game,”
the trollkin said. “You just follow one to the next—eventually one of
them takes you to your quarry.”
“Think about it,” Colbie said. “Won’t even the Braggart’s Smile’s
business ultimately fall off if frightened people avoid the Undercity
altogether? Aren’t even you Patient Weavers tired of looking over
your shoulders as you walk the caverns? Wouldn’t it be better for
everybody down here if my partners and I stopped the killings?”
Green eyes narrowed, Canice unholstered the magelock pistol
on her right hip, slipped her finger into the trigger guard, and idly
82
twirled the weapon. “Hmm,” she said. “What to do, what to do?”
“Don’t listen to her nonsense,” Natak growled. “If the tunnel
killer needs catching, we can do it ourselves.”
“It would be nice to think so, but the trollkin has a point,” the
gun mage said. “We don’t practice his trade, and besides, we have a
business to run.” She looked at Colbie. “If you and your friends can
get up, you can all walk out of here. My men won’t like it, but I won’t
let them interfere. If somebody is too badly hurt to leave under his
own power, I can’t imagine him being much use in a manhunt. So
he’ll have to stay behind—and my fellows will vent their feelings on
him.” She flashed a grin. “Fair enough?”
“I’ll get everybody walking,” Colbie said.
“This is stupid,” Natak said. His grip clamped down like a vise.
Agony stabbed through Colbie’s skull.
Only for a moment, though, and then he let her go.
83
CHAPTER 17
Milo
E ilish’s former schoolmate Gwen Farstaff, a petite doctor with

short brown hair and a pretty, heart-shaped face that wore a scowl
when she concentrated, gave the alchemist some good news. “You’re
lucky. The shot went clean through without hitting anything
important.”
Milo hissed and stiffened at the sting of the alcohol she was using
to clean the wound. “Right,” he gritted. “I feel lucky.”
Despite his sarcasm, he supposed he was. Lucky that Canice
Gormleigh, hoping to question his crew, had shot to wound rather
than to kill. Lucky that Colbie and Gardek had ultimately talked the
gun mage into letting them all go.
When Milo thought about it, he’d been fortunate to escape death
three times: first in the Queen of Skulls, again in the Backbreakers’
lair, and finally facing the Patient Weavers. He wasn’t superstitious,
but he didn’t have to subscribe to the swampie notion that things
happened in threes to suspect he might have used up all the luck he
had coming. Judging from the glum expressions on the faces of his
partners, he might not be the only one who felt that way.
The physician finished wrapping linen bandages around his arm,
and he got up from the chair. Bare to the waist, Gardek took his
place, sitting backward to provide easier access to the bloody hole in
his shoulder.
“My bullet didn’t go all the way through,” the trollkin growled.
“You’ll have to dig.”

“I see that,” Farstaff replied. She insinuated the tip of a probe into
the wound. Gardek’s jaw clenched.
“We have to decide what our next move will be,” Eilish said. He
was the only one of them who hadn’t been bloodied or even bruised,
but the grenade gas had reduced his voice to a rasping whisper. “Do
we even have a next move?”
“I was wondering that myself,” Milo said.
Colbie spoke up. Her forehead bore a good-sized lump, and the
stink of dried puke on her shirt contended with the sharp, antiseptic
smell of the alcohol Dr. Farstaff was using. “When Canice and Natak
had us tied up, Gardek said there’s always another lead to follow.”
The thief taker grunted and then gasped as the probe slid in deeper.
“I would have said nearly anything to get out of those chains.”
“But wasn’t it true?” Colbie asked.
“I’ve always believed it,” Gardek said. “That doesn’t mean we
ought to go chasing more leads, not in the shape we’re in.”
“There it is,” the physician murmured. She picked up a pair of
forceps.
“I hate the thought of starting all over from the beginning,” Eilish
said. “I was sure we’d tracked down the killer, but in truth, we’re no
further along than when we met.”
Colbie frowned. “I don’t think that’s true. Even if it were, we’ve
promised a lot of people we’d catch the murderer.”
Milo shrugged. The motion sent a twinge of pain through his
arm. “We—or you—can tell Rorke we gave it a good try. As for the
Knotted Cord, the Backbreakers, and the Patient Weavers . . . I don’t
plan on going near any of them anytime soon.”
“Look,” the dark woman said, “we’re tired and hurting. It’s
demoralizing that the killer made fools of us and Canice and her
men defeated us. But there’s more to this than simply staying
85
on the good side of some powerful people. Lives are at stake.”

Eilish smiled a crooked smile. “Yes—ours.”
Colbie looked the arcanist in the eye. “You’re no coward, and I
believe you care that innocent people are being butchered. But even
if you don’t, what about the reward?”
“There’s always another bounty,” Gardek said. Dr. Farstaff finished
extracting the bullet from his shoulder and dropped it clinking into
a pan.
“Part of my reward is a favor only Lieutenant Rorke can provide,”
Colbie said. “But never mind. I don’t expect that to matter to the
rest of you. Consider this, though: if we quit now, we have to live
with the knowledge that we were truly beaten. Not by the Weavers.
By the killer.”
“You’re saying we should further risk our lives for the sake of our
pride?” Eilish rasped.
“Yes,” Colbie answered. “Your pride in your intelligence and your
skills. I don’t believe you, out of all of us, would be able to stand
knowing the murderer outsmarted us.”
The arcanist laughed for a moment, and then his mirth started
him coughing. When the fit subsided, he became more thoughtful.
“You might be right,” he said. “I fell into the trap of looking for the
simplest answer and got played. Not again. I’m still in.”
“Damn you, mechanik,” Gardek said. “I can’t have people saying
I balked where some prattling stick of a schoolboy pressed on. So I’ll
stay as well—if you humans are sure you’re up to it.”
Were they? Milo wondered. Was he? Physically and mentally?
Many of Colbie’s arguments hadn’t swayed him at all. As
neither a bounty hunter nor a fighting man by trade, he had
comparatively little pride invested in the search for the killer.
Although he did regret the fate of any future victims, people died
nasty, violent deaths every day all over the world. In the grand
86
scheme of things, would a few more truly matter?

Other points, however, were somewhat more persuasive. He
wanted the reward, and he didn’t want any of the Undercity’s gangs
holding a grudge against him. That could make life genuinely
inconvenient.
Ultimately, though, it was the simple sight of the others that
convinced him. He’d come to enjoy their company—bickering
and contentious though it often was—and the prospect of their
partnership dissolving here and now was even less appealing than the
possibility of meeting further danger underground. He’d never have
expected it, but he liked being part of a team.
His mind evidently made up, Milo finally spoke. “The physician
will give us medicine to strengthen us and mask our pain—won’t
you, Doctor? And if her remedies aren’t enough, a few doses of my
preparations will keep us on our feet for a while.” Unless the drugs
overtax someone’s system and bring on a collapse, he thought. But what
would be the point of mentioning that?
Farstaff’s scowl deepened. “I don’t recommend that,” she said,
wrapping bandages around Gardek’s shoulder. “I advise bed rest for
the lot of you.”
Eilish gave her a grin. “It’s all right, Gwen. When I first laid eyes
on Mr. Boggs, I wouldn’t have trusted him to empty a spittoon, and
our recent travails haven’t improved his appearance. But he’s more
reliable than he looks.”
87
CHAPTER 18
Gardek
Gardek repeatedly rolled his aching shoulder as he approached

the meeting place. The twinges were already subsiding, and it
wouldn’t be long before the recuperative powers that came with
being a trollkin entirely healed the wound.
A long sleep, a hearty meal, and a few doses of the physician’s
remedies had helped considerably. His assembled partners looked
like they felt better, too, although the lump on Colbie’s forehead had
turned into a livid bruise, and Milo now carried one arm in a sling.
The alchemist’s free hand proved dexterous enough to unscrew
the cap of a pewter bottle. He took a swig and then offered the drink
to whoever wanted it.
“Maybe later,” Eilish said. Though he was still hoarse, his voice
was considerably improved. “If and when the doctor’s medicine
stops working.”
“Suit yourself,” Milo said. “What now? Do we just go back to
touring the murder scenes?”
“Unless someone has thought of something more clever,” Colbie
said.
Nobody had, and so they descended a ramp-like section of street.
Gardek felt a pang of reluctance as he passed from Corvis’ typically
anemic sunlight into shadow. He was getting tired of perpetual
darkness.
There was nothing to be done about it, however, and he and
his partners resumed their circuit. They visited three more of the
locations marked on Eilish’s map without running into any sort of
trouble—but without learning anything, either.
Like most of the others, the fourth site lay in a tangle of passages
that connected one populated cavern to another. When Gardek
and his companions rounded a bend and the place came into view,
lanterns were shining. Their glow illuminated a half-dozen members
of the Watch gathered around a motionless form on the ground.
Evidently the tunnel killer had claimed a new victim just a few
paces from the spot where he’d felled a previous one. Given that
the murderer restricted his slaughter to a particular area, Gardek
supposed it had only been a matter of time.
“Thamar’s teeth!” Eilish cursed under his breath. “A fresh one.”
He started forward.
Gardek grabbed him by the arm. “Those aren’t Rorke’s men,” he
said, “and they aren’t going to let us poke around. We’ll have to wait
until they leave.”
“We can’t,” Eilish said. “I need—we need—to look things over
now, before information is lost or destroyed.” He pulled free of
Gardek’s grasp. “Just follow my lead.”
Gardek, Milo, and Colbie exchanged glances. Then the mechanik
waved her hand in the direction of the lawmen and the body. “Lead
on,” she said to Eilish.
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CHAPTER 19
Eilish
A watchman saw Eilish and his partners coming and moved to

intercept them. Squat and homely, the lawman looked a bit like a
bulldog. Like his fellows, he wore a tabard over mail and carried a
truncheon. A short sword hung from his belt for situations when a
club was insufficient.
“Are you witnesses?” he asked.
“Sadly, no,” Eilish replied.
“Well, you can’t pass through here,” the watchman said. “Not
right now.”
“I appreciate the Watch preserving the scene.”
He blinked. “What, now?”
“We’re investigating the murders ourselves and need to look
things over. Take me to whoever’s in charge.”
As Eilish could tell from the stripe adorning his cape, that turned
out to be a sergeant with a sprinkle of burst capillaries mottling a
sagging face with jug-handle ears. Given the growing notoriety of the
murders, there might be a higher-ranking officer being summoned
to the scene, and Eilish counted it lucky that personage hadn’t turned
up yet. The sergeant didn’t look very impressive.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Eilish Garrity, forensics expert. My associates and I have been
engaged to inquire into the tunnel murders.”
“Not by the Watch. My lieutenant didn’t say anything about it.”
“Indeed, not by the Watch. By the army. Specifically, by Earl

Galt Langworth, also commanding general of the 5th Division. As
you might recall, one of the victims was a soldier.” That last bit was
actually true.
“I still should have heard something.”
“I agree, but I’m not here to address inadequate communication
among the Watch. I need your men to move away from the body so
that my associates and I can take a good, unobstructed look around.”
The sergeant hesitated. “The lieutenant needs to approve that.
He’s on his way.”
“By all the ascendants,” Eilish said, “what harm can come from
simply looking around? Fine. We’ll do it your way. Just know
that if the general should happen to ask me if the Watch is being
cooperative, I’ll have to tell him that Sergeant . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t
get your name.”
The sergeant grimaced. He clearly resented the implied threat,
but he had to take it seriously. As both an earl and an army general,
Langworth had tremendous clout in the region. The Watch was
technically separate from the military, but no lowly sergeant could
escape the reach of an earl. Eilish was taking a risk invoking his name,
but he was counting on the fact that no one at this level would dare
to bother a noble of that standing to check his story.
“All right,” the sergeant said. “Look around. But I’ll be watching
you.” He shouted to his men and waved his truncheon, motioning
them to move away from the corpse and join him by the cavern wall.
As Eilish and his companions advanced, Gardek murmured,
“Not bad, schoolboy. I guess those snooty airs of yours are good for
something after all.”
Eilish grinned. “Your approval means the world to me. Walk
the area, will you? Look for tracks or anything else that appears
significant. I’ll join you once I finish with the corpse.”
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The body was that of a middle-aged man. Repeated strokes of

the murderer’s blade had ripped open enough of the face to reveal
decaying molars at the very back of the mouth.
Except for the fact that it was newly slain, Eilish could not
immediately see any differences between this body and the ones he’d
examined in the morgue.
But he could smell a difference. He’d reached the body soon
enough that a trace of the killer’s stench still hung in the air around
it.
It wasn’t the reek of decaying flesh; Eilish would have recognized
that from his study of cadavers. It was something more complicated
and unpleasant, and although he was sure he’d smelled it before, he
couldn’t identify it.
“Damn it,” he muttered, “what is that?”
Milo grinned. In that moment, he was the one with the smug,
superior air about him. “If you worked with chemicals, you’d know.”
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CHAPTER 20
Colbie
E ven outside, the stink coming from the long, low beamhouse
made Colbie’s eyes water. It might have made her sick to her
stomach as well if she’d let it. She wondered if Milo might consent
to loan her his gas mask.
Foulness aside, the stench was the only new clue she and her
partners had discovered at the site of the latest murder. This tannery,
the only one operating anywhere near the murder scenes, was where
it pointed.
She pushed open a creaking door. On the other side, illuminated
by the occasional oil lamp, were vats, hides pressed into packs or
stretched on racks, bags of salt, and worktables. An old man in an
apron stood at one of the latter scraping the hair from a cow skin
with a knife. Frowning, he squinted myopically at the intruders.
“I’m sorry for the interruption,” Colbie began, “but—”
“What?” the tanner barked.
Colbie wondered if the old man’s sense of smell was as dull as his
sight and hearing. It might be an advantage for someone in his line
of work.
She raised her voice. “My companions and I are sorry to interrupt
your work. But you must have heard something about the tunnel
murders. We’re trying to catch the killer.”
The tanner hesitated. “What’s that got to do with me?”
Plainly, Colbie thought, nothing to do with you specifically. The old
codger lacked the stature and physical prowess to be the murderer.

She continued. “We have reason to believe that someone who
works here may have information that could help us.”
The tanner shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re probably right,” Colbie said, “but—”
“What?”
She remembered she needed to shout. “You’re probably right, but
we need to be sure. May we speak with your workers, please?”
“If you want.” Now it was the old man’s turn to yell. “Ichabod!
Dowd! Get out here!”
Two grubby little boys, one a year or two older and a few inches
taller than the other, scurried forth from the back of the beamhouse.
“My grandsons,” said the tanner, gruff pride in his voice. “Both
learning the trade. They’ll inherit this place when I’m gone.”
“This is everybody?” Gardek asked.
“They’re all I need,” the tanner said. “I’m not so old I can’t still do
the work.”
“Damn it,” Milo cursed.
“Hold on,” Eilish said to him. Addressing the tanner, he continued.
“I noticed there’s no lock on the door. Anyone can walk right in.”
The old man shrugged. “Most people don’t want to.” He tapped
his nose with a stained and callused finger.
“But has anyone sneaked in?” the arcanist persisted. “Perhaps
walked away with something that didn’t belong to him?”
The tanner frowned. “Well, now that you mention it. Twice now,
skins have gone missing from one of the vats. Why steal a hide that’s
not finished? Why not take one that’s ready for market instead?”
“It makes sense if you want to fashion a certain kind of disguise,”
Eilish said.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Colbie said, louder. “Thank you all for your help.” She
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headed for the door, and her companions followed.

Once outside, Milo said, “I suppose we could watch this place on
the off chance the killer will eventually come back for more hides.
Otherwise, this was another trail that led nowhere.”
Colbie, Gardek, and Eilish all started to speak at once.
The trollkin gestured to Colbie. “You explain,” he said.
“If I can borrow Eilish’s map,” she said.
She unfolded the parchment and, for want of a better surface,
spread it on the ground. She and Milo squatted before it, while Eilish
and Gardek leaned over.
“Let’s assume,” she began, “that a person pilfering half-cured
hides—a person who didn’t want to be noticed with them—wouldn’t
carry them very far. They’d be bulky, and they’d stink.”
Milo nodded. “That makes sense.”
“From that—” Eilish began, but Gardek silenced him with an
elbow to the ribs.
“Let her tell it,” the thief taker said. “Everybody’s tired of your
jabber.”
Colbie suppressed a smile. “From that, we can speculate that the
killer has a lair somewhere nearby. We also know for certain that, for
whatever reason, he does all his killing in the general vicinity of the
Queen of Skulls. Let’s assume his hideout has to be somewhere near
there as well.”
Using her finger, she defined an oval on the map with the tannery
at one end and the gambling house at the other.
“We said before,” she continued, “that it would be impossible to
search all the tunnels surrounding the Queen of Skulls. But this area
is smaller. We could concentrate a search on the lonely parts where a
killer could go to ground.”
“It’ll take time,” Milo said, “but it just might work.”
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CHAPTER 21
Milo
A day of tramping back and forth and poking into one dark,
dirty, and potentially dangerous hole after another had left Milo’s
wounded arm aching. He felt the weight of his gear despite
frequent recourse to the liquid stimulants stowed in his pockets.
Maybe loneliness had its advantages after all, especially when a
man’s associates were prone to strenuous exertion based on what
now felt like the thinnest of surmises.
The group’s explorations had brought them to a stretch of the
Undercity that had once been occupied but now appeared deserted—
much like the one where Milo had first encountered Gardek. In this
case, the horrors of the Longest Night five years back were to blame.
The undead had rampaged through here slaughtering everyone
before the army put them down.
Gardek sighed. Milo suspected no one was meant to hear the
trollkin’s heavy exhalation. Standing and peering a few paces away,
Colbie and Eilish hadn’t seemed to.
But the alchemist had. “Is your shoulder bothering you?” he
murmured to the trollkin.
“Not anymore.” Gardek hesitated as though considering whether
to say more. “My brother died not far from here.” He paused again.
“I’ve been hunting alone ever since—until I got stuck with you
three.”
Milo snorted. “Is it that bad?”
“Honestly, it’s more bearable than I expected.” Gardek managed

a grin. “Of course, it would be better if the rest of us shoved the
schoolboy down a hole.”
As if he’d heard himself mentioned, Eilish turned around. “That
looks like a good spot for a killer to hide.” He pointed.
“Agreed,” Gardek rumbled. “Let’s search it next.”
The area in question was a junkyard. As they entered, their
lantern light glinted off rusty and tarnish-free metal alike amid
the general ruin. Stray bits of metal shifted and crunched under
their feet, and larger masses of iron and steel loomed to either
side. Some were mounds of unidentifiable scrap, while others
remained recognizable: a crane lying on its side, a steam-powered
pump, even a flatcar.
“This place is a maze,” Milo said.
“If it’s like most junkyards,” Colbie said, “there will be a shack
somewhere inside, a place where the caretaker conducts business.
Let’s start there.”
They prowled deeper into the scrapyard, and eventually the shack
emerged from the gloom. The ramshackle structure was bigger than
Milo expected, and when he and his companions entered, he saw
why.
The shack’s former occupant had been more than just a caretaker:
he’d been a tinkerer who restored machinery that wasn’t damaged
beyond fixing. The building was packed with tools, spare parts he’d
salvaged, and half-finished projects that took up much of the floor.
Despite the clutter, Colbie instantly oriented on a hulking
form in the corner, a shape so large it made Gardek look small by
comparison. “Hello,” she said, with a crooning note in her voice that
Milo hadn’t heard before.
The focus of her attention was a rust-dappled laborjack. The
firebox, boiler, and steam turbine on its back gave it a hunchbacked
97
appearance, while its dust-coated focal lenses betrayed its status as a

lifeless object.
“Interesting hypothesis,” Eilish said. “I’m reasonably certain,
however, that even in the dark witnesses would recognize a steamjack
for what it is. Notice, too, that the thing doesn’t have any arms. That
would make swinging a blade problematic.”
Colbie grinned. “I wasn’t thinking it was our killer. I was thinking
I’m in need of a ’jack, they’re damned expensive, and here’s one free
for the taking.”
“You must be joking,” Eilish said. “That thing might do for a
doorstop, but that’s about all.”
“You’re not a mechanik,” the dark woman replied. “You can’t see
what I see. But never mind. This isn’t why we’re here.”
Spreading out, they proceeded to search the shack by lantern
light. In due course, Milo discovered a heavy needle and thread,
shears, and scraps of a leathery substance that had once belonged to
a larger sheet. He picked one up and held it to his nose; a trace of
stench still clung to it.
“This is the place!” he called.
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CHAPTER 22
Gardek
Gardek noticed with some amusement that although neither of

them had any reason to doubt Milo’s verdict, both he and Eilish
felt compelled to sniff one of the malodorous scraps for themselves.
He supposed that was one way they were alike.
“Satisfied?” the alchemist asked.
“Yes,” Gardek said.
“Now,” Colbie said, “we lie in wait here until the killer comes
back—one or two of us standing watch out among the junk piles
and the rest in here. We can sleep in shifts.”
“That sounds good—if he really is coming back here,” Milo said.
“I think he will,” Eilish said. “If he truly is a madman, perhaps
this is the only home he has. Even if he isn’t, it’s a hiding place for
those occasions when the Watch is hot on his trail and prudence
dictates he go to ground.”
“Let’s give it a try,” Gardek said as he cracked open the door.
“I don’t mind standing watch outside.” Suddenly, seeing a hint of
movement among the scrap heaps, the trollkin shut it again.
“What’s wrong?” Eilish asked.
“Keep your voice down!” Gardek whispered. “And hood your
lanterns!”
The lights went out in quick succession. When the last one
vanished, darkness enveloped the shack’s interior.
“I repeat,” Eilish said, “what’s wrong?”
“I saw something moving around out there,” Gardek said.

“The murderer?” Colbie asked.
“I couldn’t tell,” Gardek said. Of course, it didn’t have to be the
killer. All sorts of people and creatures inhabited the Undercity. But
if it were . . .
“Assume it is,” Eilish said. “Do you think he spotted you?”
“Again, I don’t know. I shut the door quickly hoping he wouldn’t.”
“If he didn’t see anything,” Colbie whispered, “and he’s coming
in, we’ve got him. But if he did see or sense something . . . ”
“If he did,” Gardek said, “my hunch is that he’s spying to see
whether he has just a single trespasser to kill or if he needs to abandon
this place. Milo, the shack has a back door. What do you say you
circle around from the left, I’ll come in from the right, and we both
get behind him?”
Milo made a spitting sound. “I hate it. But I’ll do it.”
They slipped out the rear exit, then headed in opposite directions.
Though it was awkward while carrying a shield, Gardek periodically
unhooded his lantern for an instant to light the way ahead. Between
flickers, the memory of what he’d seen helped him creep along.
When he judged he’d traveled far enough, he swung toward the front
of the junkyard.
Assuming he truly had glimpsed the murderer, he was now
moving closer to him, albeit not straight at him—not yet. As the
distance narrowed, he tried even harder to move silently and to flash
the lantern less frequently.
Then something made a noise like a tremulous bark, and he heard
Milo let out a squawk. A moment later, one of his grenades banged.
Gardek couldn’t identify the barking sound, but if Milo was
already fighting, there was no further need for stealth. The task
now was to locate the fight in the darkness amid mounds of
scrap. Gardek fully unhooded his light, pulled the hammer free
100
from his back, and trotted in the direction of the noise.

The lantern dangling from his wrist swung back and forth in time
to his loping strides. Its light still hadn’t found Milo, not with all the
junk in the way, but a second detonation led Gardek onward. This
time it was louder: the alchemist had thrown a true bomb, not a gas
grenade.
Did that mean Milo was too alarmed to worry about taking their
quarry alive? As Gardek started to run faster, he glimpsed a four-
legged shape racing toward his flank out of the dark. He wrenched
himself around to face this new threat. The dark-furred thing was
an argus, a two-headed hound with pointed ears and a pair of extra-
long, downward-pointing fangs in each set of powerful jaws.
Perceiving that Gardek was now ready to receive its charge, the
argus stopped short. It braced itself and faced him with both its
heads, drawing in a deep combined breath before unleashing an
extremely loud bark.
The strangely discordant sound pierced Gardek’s brain in a way that
was painful and disorienting. The trollkin flinched involuntarily, and
the hound took the opportunity to rush him. It lunged underneath
his shield, caught his right leg in both pairs of jaws, and wrenched it
out from underneath him.
He fell hard. Snarling, the argus gnawed at his limb. It was clever
enough to avoid the spikes jutting from his armor and to attack
the spaces between fitted steel. Its fangs shredded the leather they
encountered there like paper.
As Gardek drew back his hammer to strike his assailant, a third
pair of fanged jaws snapped shut on his arm and jerked, making the
swing impossible. Slavering and gaping wide, a fourth set lunged for
his head.
Gardek heaved his shield across his body and hit the second argus
in the nose of its left head. More important, the maneuver interposed
101
a barrier between the beast’s fangs and his face. He tried to use the
shield to shove the argus off his immobilized weapon arm, but it held
on with both heads now.
Blue light flickered at the edge of his vision. Bolts of force struck
the back of the argus holding his arm, causing it to convulse and
loosen its grip.
Gardek instantly sat up and swung at the beast savaging his leg.
The hammer hit one head hard enough to make the hound recoil
and scramble back into the murk.
Gardek turned back toward the other argus. He was glad to
discover it had stopped thrashing and died.
Lantern in one hand, the other outstretched with a last luminous
rune blinking out of existence above it, Eilish grinned. “That’s twice
I’ve saved your . . . ” His eyes widened. “Your leg.”
“I’m all right.” Gardek attempted to stand but couldn’t quite
manage it. With a grimace, he slipped his arm out of the straps of his
heavy shield and tried again. Eilish took hold of his arm and pulled,
helping the trollkin to his feet.
Eilish was still holding on to him. “Can you walk?” the arcanist
asked.
Gardek pulled away from the human. “Yes.” At least he could
hobble—he hoped. “I thought you and Colbie were going to wait
in the shack.”
“We didn’t see much point once we heard the fight begin. She was
trying to catch up with Milo. Do you know where he is?”
Gardek jerked his head. “Somewhere that way.”
Continuously peering about for prowling argus, the human and
trollkin headed in the appropriate direction. Gardek felt faint and
gave his head a shake in an effort to clear it.
Colbie’s slug gun boomed, and two more grenades banged. An
instant later, the mechanik and the alchemist came scrambling
102
around a mound of scrap. Several argus were after them, although

Gardek couldn’t really see them. Their forms merely suggested
slinking motion in the blackness.
One of the double-headed hounds emerged from the gloom
and unleashed its powerful, ear-splitting bark. Once again the
sound triggered a painful mental spasm that staggered Gardek for a
moment, making it hard for him to think. The hound’s pack mates
charged.
Eilish quickly shook off his own disorientation. Pivoting, blue
runes flashing in the air around him, he hurled one bolt of power
after another. As far as Gardek could tell, he didn’t hit anything but
scrap. But the barrage balked all the argus in mid-rush.
Gardek recovered his bearings just as a wave of dizziness washed
over him. Lurching off balance, he put too much weight on his
injured leg and nearly fell.
Meanwhile, Eilish was panting, Milo’s bandolier was out of
grenades, and Colbie’s slug gun was empty. She used the weapon to
point. “Back to the shack!” she said.
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CHAPTER 23
Eilish
Gardek fell down during the retreat. Milo and Colbie picked him
up and helped him along thereafter.
Their slowed pace gave the argus time to regroup and slink after
them. Straining, Eilish cast more flares of force to hold them back.
Sadly, he didn’t think he was seriously hurting any of them. It was
too dark, and the wretched beasts were too far away, too agile, and
too wily in their use of cover.
He and his partners made it to the shack without anyone
suffering additional injury. The last one through the door, Eilish
found a bar and shoved it into place. Colbie and Milo lowered
Gardek to the floor to sit with his back against the wall, and
the alchemist scrambled to secure the rear exit. The dark woman
grabbed some oily rags and started knotting them around the
trollkin’s bloody leg.
“In retrospect,” Eilish wheezed, “Gwen may have had a point.
Perhaps we should have deferred further investigation until we were
completely recovered from our previous fiasco.”
Gardek grinned. “Too rough for you, schoolboy?” Then he
grunted and stiffened as Colbie’s ministrations evidently caused him
pain.
“What were those two-headed dogs? Milo asked.
Eilish answered. “Argus. Very dangerous, and rarely tamed outside
Khador. They’re difficult to train and prone to attacking their masters.”
Gardek said, “I thought they lost their paralyzing bark when

raised in captivity.”
Eilish was impressed by the trollkin’s knowledge. He nodded in
acknowledgement. “That’s true. These are probably still wild. I can’t
believe some maniac has a pack of them just to guard a junkyard.”
“Was anybody able to tell how many there were?” Colbie asked.
Their collective silence as they each looked around at the others
was answer enough. The darkness and general confusion had
prevented an accurate counting.
Colbie frowned. “I couldn’t, either, but plainly there are enough
to give us problems. We need help.”
Eilish snorted. “We’re in an uninhabited part of the Undercity,
and we didn’t tell anyone we were coming here. I wouldn’t look for
rescue anytime soon.”
Colbie knotted a final bandage and stood up. “The help I mean
is already here.” She gestured to the armless derelict steamjack in the
corner.
Gardek nodded. “If you can get it running.”
“With time and some help,” Colbie said, “there’s a chance.”
A distant argus bark was answered by a much louder reply from
one that sounded like it was prowling around right outside. This bark
sounded different than the ones that had frozen them; the pack was
likely closing in. The image made Eilish feel cornered and twitchy.
He’d just had time to steady himself when a bang made him
jump—something had pounded on the outside of the door and
jolted it in its frame. A second blow followed suit.
No hound had done that. The tunnel killer had arrived. Perhaps
he’d been nearby, and the pack’s barking had drawn him back.
Eilish turned to Colbie. “You don’t have time,” he said.
“We can barricade the doors,” Milo said.
“Have you noticed how rotted-out and generally dilapidated this
105
place is?” Eilish asked. “If he has to, he can knock down a wall.”
“We need to distract him,” Gardek said. “Milo, I’m ready for your
brews. Anything that will keep me on my feet.”
The alchemist walked over to the trollkin and extracted several
vials from some of his many pockets. Gardek gulped down two,
clenched his jaw, and shuddered violently.
“Are you all right?” Colbie asked.
“Fine,” he gritted. “Is there more?”
“If you can tolerate another,” Milo said, proffering it.
Eilish took the vial from the man’s hand. “This one’s mine. You
can’t go out there by yourself.”
The bitter draught stood him up straight, quivering with energy.
It also made his face hot and set his heart thumping. He breathed
slowly and deeply, trying to suppress the agitation that accompanied
the infusion of vitality. He couldn’t be this jittery when he left the
shack, or the argus’ barking would panic him for certain.
Gardek clambered to his feet. “Ready?”
Eilish gestured to the cracks that were appearing in the front door.
“I’d better be, hadn’t I?”
“Out the back, then, and circle around. Maybe we can take him
by surprise.”
Milo accompanied them to the exit. They stepped through, and
he hastily pulled it shut after them.
Eilish had barely cleared the threshold when an argus emitted its
strange, disorienting bark; the creature had been waiting for them.
The arcanist gasped and staggered, and his heart jolted in his chest:
it felt like the combination of being startled out of a deep sleep
by a loud noise while also experiencing the onset of an agonizing
headache.
Intent on killing him while he recovered from the sonic blast,
the argus sprang down at him from atop a pile of scrap. Gardek
106
lunged and swung his war hammer.

Connecting with a thud, the weapon caught the beast in midair
and smashed it to the ground. It dazedly tried to rise, and the bounty
hunter hit it a second time. Bone crunched, and a part of its back
indented; the argus twitched and eventually stopped moving.
“All right,” Gardek said, “that’s two dead.”
Eilish nodded. “It’s a start.”
Behind them something snarled, the tone deeper than any sound
Eilish had heard an argus make. He realized the thing making it had
likely heard the commotion at the rear of the shed and was now
rushing alongside the tumbledown structure to investigate.
Gardek took a fresh grip on his hammer. Eilish raised his right
hand to cast another spell. Then the new threat hurtled around the
corner, and despite himself, the arcanist faltered.
In some respects, the tunnel killer was what Eilish had expected.
It was big, even bigger than Gardek or Natak, and wore a crudely
fashioned mantle of hide that reeked of the tanner’s vat. The steel
rings on each of its massive fingers glinted in the lantern light.
Each of those fingers ended in a long claw that, Eilish realized
with a twinge of chagrin, had produced the wounds he’d erroneously
attributed to a peculiar hooked blade. The cloaked figure was shaggy
and bestial: its arms were too long, its hands were too large, and its
legs bent backward below the knee like the rear legs of a wolf. Tusks
like a boar’s curved up the sides of its face. It was definitely not an
ogrun.
In fact, it was a gorax. Once used as beasts of war, the hulking
creatures were infamous for their savagery. This one instantly charged.
His uneven steps betraying the damage to his leg, Gardek
interposed himself between the oncoming brute and Eilish and
swung his hammer.
With startling agility, the gorax stopped to avoid the blow and
107
then lunged forward to slash with its talons. Gardek retreated, but
not far enough; razor-sharp talons ripped open his cheek while
narrowly missing an eye.
The gorax drove forward and swiped again. Gardek slipped the
second attack with a twisting maneuver, jammed the head of his
hammer into the beast’s chest, and shoved. The heave ended the
gorax’s initial furious assault, but as far as Eilish could tell didn’t
appear to hurt it.
The trollkin needed help. With him and the gorax in close
combat, the trick would be to hit one and not the other. As Eilish
began circling to achieve the best line for the purpose, an argus loped
around the corner. The hounds clearly saw the ferocious gorax as an
ally.
The hound braced itself and performed its powerful bark. Eilish
jerked backward to avoid the brunt of the effect, while the argus
circled to come at Gardek from behind.
His reflexes having saved him from the worst of the disorientation,
Eilish gritted his teeth and focused his will. Runes coalesced in the air
as he stretched out his hand. Mystical bolts leapt from his fingertips
and pierced the argus, which fell down thrashing.
As Eilish tried to determine how badly the beast was hurt, he
heard another argus coming at him from behind. By the sound of it,
he feared it was already too close.
The arcanist spun around and backpedaled, straining to muster
the power he needed. Gaping jaws hurtled at his outstretched hand,
and he imagined the dagger fangs biting the extremity off at the
wrist.
He was able to maintain concentration on the forming runes. A
flare of arcane energy struck the argus. The beast yipped, slid to a
stop, and then ran for cover.
Eilish let it go. Too many spells in quick succession had left him
108
panting and dizzy, his mind aching. The strain of magic was not
something Milo’s drugs could overcome. As with any exertion,
performing magic required intervals of rest, and Eilish had to
conserve his energy.
Right now he needed every ounce of it to fend off the two-
headed hounds slinking in the shadows as they looked for a good
opportunity to attack. Like all natural predators, they preferred not
to risk themselves until they could overwhelm their prey. Fortunately
for Eilish, they did not know his limits. Gardek would have to
contend with the gorax by himself until Colbie’s derelict steamjack
was ready.
Assuming it actually could be readied.
Gardek had started leaving bloody footprints despite the bandages
on his leg. Lurching forward, he swung his hammer. The gorax
caught the weapon mid-stroke, yanked it out of the bounty hunter’s
grip, and flung it spinning into the darkness.
Limping a step backward, Gardek raised his arms like a pugilist.
He could still rip an adversary to pieces using the spikes jutting from
his forearms, but without the hammer he’d lost the advantage of
superior reach. Aside from his armor, that was the only real edge he’d
enjoyed against the gorax.
The argus barked at one another, coordinating, as Eilish scanned
the darkness to locate them.
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CHAPTER 24
Colbie
E ven filtered through the shack’s walls, the strange baying of the
hounds outside rattled Colbie and made it difficult to think. The
sound was like nothing she had ever heard. Scowling, she struggled
to block out the noise.
A steam engine needed water. Fortunately, the tinkerer who’d once
occupied the shack had kept a tank of it handy. Colbie turned the
tap, and water began splashing into the bucket she’d placed below.
A steam engine also needed coal, and there was a bin half-full of
it.
The situation wasn’t hopeless. As Milo pulled his wounded arm
from its sling and hurried in her direction, she clambered up on a
stool to inspect the ’jack’s torso.
“What do you think?” the alchemist asked.
She shook her head in vexation. “There’s no time to open it up
and check out the inside. We just have to assume there’s no hidden
damage that would keep it from working. I’m hoping it was scrapped
only because whoever left it couldn’t afford to replace its arms.”
“All right,” Milo said, “we assume that. Now what?”
“We need to seal the broken pneumatics in the shoulders;
otherwise, we lose pressure.”
Colbie opened her greatcoat and brought out clamps, plugs, and
putty. She showed them to Milo. “Look around for more of these.”
The mechanik set to work as fast as she could. By the time she
finished with one armhole, Milo was standing ready with the supplies
she needed for the other.
He hadn’t found any to spare, though, and a sudden bark made
her fumble her grip on a clamp. Gasping, she snatched hold of it
before it could fall into the interior of the chassis.
When the second armhole was done, Milo asked, “What now?”
“We need to scrape off any rust that might inhibit motion and
then lubricate the moving parts.”
“Right. I also found the stuff for that. Let’s hope the caretaker
patronized a good alchemist.”
Milo uncorked a ceramic jug and passed it up to her. First, she
dowsed the steam engine with the greenish contents, and then she
repeated the process on the neck and leg joints. Corrosion hissed and
foamed away. Afterward, Milo attended newly gleaming valves of
brass and copper with the contents of an oilcan.
“Now, water and coal,” Colbie said.
Milo found a hose to facilitate the transfer of the former and a
scuttle to aid with the latter. She lit the firebox with a match.
After that, she and Milo waited. Argus barked outside, and Eilish
yelled. Colbie hoped the exclamation was simply a natural byproduct
of a tense situation and not because a beast had plunged its fangs into
the arcanist’s flesh.
Milo shook his head. “This is taking too long. Gardek and Eilish
aren’t going to make it. I can make the water boil faster.”
And risk an explosion, Colbie thought. Quickly weighing that
danger against the likelihood of injury to her friends outside, she
said, “Do it.”
Milo brought two pewter vials out of his pockets and poured one
into the other. He climbed up on the stool, added the mixture to the
boiler, and then hopped down again.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the ’jack shook, loose
111
parts rattling. Colbie took a step backward—a reflexive gesture that

would do nothing to protect her from flying shrapnel and scalding
steam should the construct explode.
The shuddering subsided. A moment later, the ’jack straightened.
Its bump of a head swiveled back and forth as its focal lenses surveyed
its surroundings.
Success! Now Colbie had to try to control it. She turned to examine
a line of nonsensical words and numbers chalked on the wall beside
the laborjack. She hoped it was the control lock code, recorded here
by the scrapyard operator for easy reference. She flipped a switch on
the automaton’s shoulder to put it into receptive mode and read off
the cipher.
Now she’d find out if there had been any point to all of the frantic
labor of the past few minutes. “Look at me,” she said.
The dusty lenses turned in her direction.
“Your name is . . . ” With urgency and the barking of the argus
pressing at her, all she could think of was Eilish’s disparaging remark.
“Doorstop! You will obey me. Lift your foot if you understand.”
Doorstop picked up its foot and set it down again.
Colbie smiled. “Good.” She looked at Milo, who drew a throwing
knife from its sheath. “Let’s finish this.”
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CHAPTER 25
Milo
M ilo knew that Gardek and Eilish had intended to circle around
the shack and take the tunnel killer by surprise. But the subsequent
sounds of battle indicated they’d never made it that far. The
murderer had left off pounding on the front door to help the argus
kill them.
Colbie hastily reloaded the slug gun and then pointed at the rear
exit. “Doorstop, outside! Quickly!”
The armless ’jack tramped in that direction with the two humans
scurrying behind. It wasn’t particularly graceful as it made its way
across the cluttered workspace. It brushed past the former caretaker’s
other projects, rocking them or knocking them over entirely. But at
least it didn’t get hung up on anything.
It didn’t wait for anyone to open the door, either. Without
breaking stride, it smashed right through the panel before coming
to a halt.
Looking past the automaton, Milo spied Gardek fighting the
tunnel killer—if it could still be called “fighting.” The trollkin
had lost his hammer and was reeling backward with hands raised
in pure defense. The murderer followed, slashing not with some
exotic hooked blade but with its claws. Milo caught his breath
when he glimpsed the snarling, tusked face under the cowl. The
thing he and his partners had been hunting wasn’t human, undead,
or trollkin, or ogrun. It was a frenzied, bipedal beast so intent on
its foe that it didn’t even notice Doorstop crashing onto the scene.
Fortunately for Eilish, the remaining argus did notice.
His cape tattered and his short sword in his hand, the arcanist
was on the ground where a pair of the two-headed hounds had
evidently thrown him; one beast had a crumpled black greave in one
of its jaws. Eilish had likely been an instant away from death. Now,
however, startled by the chugging, clanking Doorstop, both argus
drew warily back.
Colbie scrambled out next to the steamjack. “Doorstop! Push the
gorax!” She pointed at the raging beast-man to specify the machine’s
target. “Keep pushing until you knock it down!”
The laborjack marched dutifully forward.
As Doorstop began to head away from Eilish, the pair of argus
that had been assailing the fallen arcanist stopped retreating. Milo
and Colbie dashed to his side.
Milo drew a knife and threw it in a long cast. The tip of the blade
struck an argus’ withers, piercing its hide, but not deep enough to
stick. The hound yelped and faltered as the weapon fell to the ground.
Though the injury was superficial, the unexpected attack
balked the beast long enough for Colbie to reach Eilish and haul
him to his feet. Still facing the argus, the two of them backed
away toward Doorstop, weapons ready. Milo pulled another knife
to cover their retreat.
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CHAPTER 26
Gardek
Gardek’s wounded leg had gone numb, and that made every
step treacherous. Stumbling back before the gorax’s onslaught, he
eventually lost his balance and fell. Gardek tried to raise his arms to
fend off the creature, but they also felt clumsy and heavy, as if the
weight of his own armor was too much for him.
Then, smoke fuming from the smokestack on its back, the
armless laborjack ran right into the gorax. Its momentum and mass
were irresistible, and the machine bulled the creature away from its
intended victim. Gardek watched in astonishment. Like his foe, he’d
been so intent on their fight that he hadn’t even noticed the ’jack
emerge from the shack.
The trollkin hoped the automaton would knock the gorax over
and crush it underfoot, but it didn’t. The beast was too fast, big, and
strong. Snarling, it slashed repeatedly as the ’jack pushed it backward.
Its claws tore through the metal on the machine’s chassis but did not
slow its advance. The gorax and the laborjack were roughly the same
height, but the ’jack considerably outweighed its opponent.
The gorax seemed to comprehend it wasn’t facing a living thing
and that its attacks weren’t having the desired effect. It backed
up a few paces and then moved to circle around the laborjack,
likely in an attempt to get at the softer targets behind the machine.
Doorstop tried to counter by putting its ponderous bulk in the
path of its foe, but it was too slow to truly impede the gorax.
Gardek struggled to his feet and hobbled forward. Seeing him

stand up, the gorax sprinted forward, outmaneuvering the steamjack
with feral grace. The trollkin began casting about for his hammer.
Then Eilish and Colbie rushed up to stand between them, the former
gripping his sword and the latter a heavy ’jack wrench. Milo hovered
a couple of paces back, a knife raised for throwing.
Their sudden arrival distracted the gorax, which turned to deal
with them instead. Colbie glanced back at Gardek. “Get your
hammer!” she cried.
He growled under his breath, having already concluded that he
needed the weapon to have any hope of doing real harm to such a
powerful foe. The bounty hunter resumed his search, trying to locate
the hammer in the gloom. He finally spotted it several yards away.
As he neared it, another argus bark penetrated his skull. Gardek
saw the creature hurtling out of the gloom at him.
This time he managed to overcome the paralysis and lunged
forward to reach the hammer an instant before the argus could close.
He snatched the weapon off the ground, pivoted, and struck.
His numb leg almost gave way, but Gardek’s blow landed, striking
the argus where its two necks met and merged into a single spine.
Bones cracked, and the beast collapsed.
Gardek sucked in a ragged breath. As fast as he could, he hobbled
back toward his allies.
He was relieved to see that not only were all three of them still
alive, but they had also managed to hurt the gorax a little. Eilish’s
sword had struck a bloody gash on its forearm, and one of Milo’s
acid flasks had burned away fur from its shoulder. Blistered skin still
smoked from the caustic substance.
Despite the best efforts of its human foes and the tireless
harassment of the armless laborjack, the gorax fought even more
savagely than before. Gardek had heard that pain made such creatures
116
even stronger, and that seemed to be true. As the battle continued,

Colbie narrowly evaded a claw swipe that would otherwise have
taken off her head. Eilish blocked a backhand blow with a stop cut,
but the impact nearly knocked the weapon from his hand and sent
him stumbling to the side.
Moving up beside Eilish as the arcanist recovered his balance,
Gardek attacked the gorax with his waning strength. The beast
grunted at the impact but was otherwise unfazed. At the same
moment, the ’jack had lined up for another lumbering run at the
gorax.
Gardek bellowed and hurled himself at the bipedal beast. The
move might well be suicide, but maybe it would keep the gorax from
noticing the automaton chuffing up behind it.
He swung. The gorax shifted sideways, and the hammer missed.
The creature swiped at his head with its claws. But before they could
connect, the ’jack knocked it stumbling off balance.
“You know, you could use that slug gun any time you like,”
Gardek called out over his shoulder at Colbie.
She shook her head. “Can’t. I might hit doorstop.”
Pivoting, the gorax moved to circumvent the steamjack as it had
every time before. Then Eilish lunged and drove his short sword into
the beast’s leg, staggering it for one crucial moment.
“Doorstop!” Colbie cried. “Fall on the gorax! Don’t let it move!”
The ’jack toppled forward on top of the beast-man, using its
steam-powered legs to keep the creature from crawling out from
under its crushing weight. The remaining four of them surrounded
the struggling pair and struck at whatever parts of the gorax they
could reach.
Even then, their task was difficult and dangerous. The gorax kept
thrashing and once nearly clawed Milo’s leg out from under him.
Despite Doorstop’s efforts, the creature was gradually squirming free.
117
But maybe the extra room was just what they needed. Gardek
limped to the proper position, raised his hammer high—Dhunia,
had it ever felt this heavy, even on the first day of his training?—and
anticipated its wriggling head coming his way.
As soon as it did, he struck. The gorax spotted the movement,
snarled, and lashed a claw sideways at him.
The force he invested in his swing unbalanced him, and his leg
finally gave way to dump him on the ground. But the gorax’s talons
didn’t land. He looked at his foe and saw that his blow had struck
first, smashing the creature’s skull. It slumped and was still.
For a moment, he felt tremendous satisfaction and the urge to
rest. Then he noticed that the surviving argus were still slinking and
circling in the darkness.
“They’re afraid of the noise of the laborjack,” Eilish said
breathlessly. The toppled machine was emitting an awful racket from
its rumbling, hissing boiler. “But that won’t last now that it’s fallen
over.”
He looked at Gardek. “You’re the strong one. Can you help set it
back on its feet?”
“With my leg torn up?”
Eilish sighed. “I’m wiped out. I need time to recover before I can
do anything.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Colbie aimed her slug gun, steadying its
weight in both hands.
“You realize,” Milo said, “we’ve yet to see you hit a target with
that thing.”
“It helps if the target is big and stationary.”
The weapon boomed, and the slug arced across the junkyard to
smash into one of the towering piles of scrap. Clattering metal rained
down on two of the hounds.
Combined with their earlier losses, the thunderous pelting of
118
junk was apparently more than the surviving canines could take.
They yelped and gave higher-pitched barks as they withdrew into
the gloom.
Gardek’s allies clustered around him. Colbie stooped to examine
his leg, and Milo handed her a little brass bottle. “Apply this,” the
alchemist said.
Whatever the stuff was, it stung some feeling back into Gardek’s
leg. He sucked in a breath.
“How badly is he hurt?” Eilish asked.
Gardek managed a grin. “I’ll be fine, schoolboy. I’m not dying
now, not after we finally won a fight. Not when I can point out how
wrong you were about the hooked dagger.”
To Gardek’s disappointment, the arcanist simply smiled. “And
not, I’m sure, when we’re finally ready to unmask the real tunnel
murderer. I trust you’ve all discerned who it has to be?”
119
CHAPTER 27
Eilish
A s they approached the Queen of Skulls, Eilish glanced

surreptitiously at Gardek limping along; he didn’t want the trollkin
to notice he was checking up on him.
Fortunately, he appeared to be all right. A grim smile on his
bandaged face, Gardek looked as eager as everyone else to reach their
destination. Eilish knew trollkin were quick healers; he’d likely be
fine as soon as he got a real meal.
A glowering Lieutenant Rorke, however, evinced more impatience
than eagerness. Eilish and his partners had collected the lawman on
their way to report to Lon Kurgan, and Rorke was clearly irritated they
had declined to divulge the results of their investigation immediately.
For Eilish’s purposes, that simply wouldn’t do. He preferred to
reveal the solution to their puzzle with all the principals gathered
together and with a certain theatrical panache. It was more fun—and
it would help to build his reputation.
Besides, even though Rorke had recruited Colbie and him, Kurgan
was paying their fee. He had a right to hear the information first.
Colbie had to leave Doorstop outside the gambling house, as
it was too big to fit through the entrance. Even without arms, the
smoking, chugging steamjack made the thuggish doorman look
small and inconsequential by comparison.
Passing through the card room, the group spied Kurgan talking to
Pytor Nazarko by one row of the animal enclosures that lined the hall
containing the fighting pit. The Queen of Skulls’ manager sported a

crimson brocade outfit every bit as gaudy as the mustard-colored suit
Eilish had seen before. His scowling and bald second-in-command
wore his usual long leather gauntlets and carried his crook-handled,
spiral-carved cane.
As the newcomers approached, Kurgan asked, “Is it done?”
“Almost,” Gardek rumbled. “Here’s the first part.” He opened the
sack he was carrying and pulled out the gorax’s head by its shaggy
mane. Fluid dripped from the neck.
Kurgan and Rorke goggled at the head. Some of the nearby
gamblers, who’d been idling away the time until the next fight,
noticed the display and reacted similarly. Eilish smiled. The bigger
the audience, the better.
“That’s an animal,” Kurgan said.
“Specifically, a gorax,” Eilish said. “A ferocious creature, as my
partners and I can attest. I wonder who has the connections to
procure such an animal and a pack of wild argus? Who possesses the
near-preternatural skill to train the former to do his bidding and to
convince such fierce and normally territorial beasts to cohabitate and
defend one another? Care to speculate, Mr. Nazarko?”
Eilish had to give the beast trainer credit. At the implied accusation,
his mouth fell open in a convincing counterfeit of surprise.
“What are you suggesting?” he demanded. Meanwhile, more
curious gamblers drew near.
“In retrospect,” Eilish said, “the clues all fit together. You found
an abandoned site in the Undercity where you could keep a gorax.
You obtained an argus pack to play watchdogs. Then you trained the
lumbering brute to roam the tunnels and kill patrons departing the
Queen of Skulls, although its bloodthirsty temperament caused it to
claim the occasional random victim as well.”
Nazarko sneered. “That’s ridiculous. The gorax would have no
121
way of telling the patrons from anybody else.”

“Not without help,” Eilish said. “But you provided it. You’re quite
sour and taciturn in your dealings with Mr. Kurgan and people in
general, aren’t you? But when gamblers approach you, you’re genial
and more than willing to shake their hands and slap them on the
back—because you’re putting a chemical on them that people can’t
smell. But a gorax can.”
One arm hanging in its sling, Milo grinned. “I helped figure out
that part of it.”
Eilish gave the alchemist a nod. “So you did.” He shifted his gaze
back to Nazarko. “You didn’t want anyone finding out the tunnel
killer was a gorax, because that might implicate you. Besides, a
mysterious slayer was more frightening. So you improvised a crude
disguise using unfinished tanner skins. Their stink would both terrify
and repel any witnesses as well as mask the distinctive musk of a
gorax. You even put steel rings on the creature’s fingers to misdirect
us to Natak Warbiter of the Patient Weavers.”
“Ridiculous,” Nazarko repeated.
“Still,” Eilish said, “your faith in your precautions wasn’t
unshakable. When I first visited this establishment and demonstrated
that Mr. Boggs wasn’t the tunnel killer, my acumen dismayed you.”
Colbie jumped in. “I suspect it was the prospect of all four of us
working together that spooked him.”
Eilish waved a magnanimous hand. “Yes, I’m sure. At any rate,
fearing discovery and hoping our investigation would lead us to
Natak, Mr. Nazarko sent an anonymous message to the Patient
Weavers. It was supposed to result in our demise, but as you can see,
we weathered the crisis. Just as we subsequently found your hideaway
and put down your sundry savage beasts.”
Nazarko looked to Kurgan. “This is insane,” the animal trainer
said. “Why would I want to kill our customers?”
122
“For one thing,” Eilish said, “you’re second-in-command here. If

business falls off for whatever reason, your Knotted Cord superiors
will probably elevate you to Mr. Kurgan’s position. But I suspect
there’s more to it than that. You’re harboring some sort of grudge
against him, aren’t you?”
Kurgan frowned at his subordinate. “Are you?” he asked.
“No!” Nazarko said. “He’s just stringing together lies and guesses.
There’s no proof of any of this!”
“I bet we can find some,” Gardek said. “The chemical you smear
on the gamblers—have you got it in your pocket right now?”
“Even if he doesn’t,” Milo said, “the hides he stole were bulky,
awkward to carry, and acidic. We might find a burn or two on those
gloves.”
With a suddenness that took them by surprise, Nazarko gripped
his cane with both hands and pulled. The crook handle came away
from the shaft to reveal the stubby barrel of a pistol. The bald man
pointed the gun at Kurgan and then shifted around behind him.
Kurgan swallowed. “You ungrateful bastard.”
“Hardly,” Nazarko replied. “When I agreed to work here, you
promised this fighting pit would be just the first of many. That we’d
invest in more exotic beasts and I’d be able to run things the way I
wanted to. You never delivered on any of it.”
“You’re crazy!” Kurgan said. “You’d have nothing without me!”
“We’re leaving,” the trainer said. “Nobody move.” Keeping his
captive’s body between him and his accusers, Nazarko dragged
Kurgan toward the exit.
“You can’t get away,” Rorke said.
“We’ll see about that,” Nazarko replied. He grabbed the lever
attached to the barred door at the front of an enclosure. Perhaps
the beasts inside were supposed to fight soon, for unlike the
others down the wall, no padlock secured it.
123
Nazarko yanked down the lever then jerked open the grille.
Squealing, shaggy, long-eared burrow-mawgs hurtled through the
opening.
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CHAPTER 28
Colbie
Bumping into one another, gamblers recoiled from the gnashing

fangs and hooked claws of the shrilling, dog-sized animals. With
the fighting pit at their backs, however, the patrons couldn’t avoid
the burrow-mawgs for long.
Fortunately, there was enough time for Colbie’s companions to
intervene.
Eilish evoked a spell, and blue runes flashed around his extended
arm. Bolts of force pierced the lead burrow-mawg, which promptly
collapsed.
Its sudden demise made the creatures behind it hesitate just long
enough for Gardek to plant himself in front of them. The trollkin’s
shield, spiked armor, and massive frame made a barrier of sorts, and
his hammer rose and fell as he smashed one animal after another.
Milo maneuvered until he could throw a grenade into the very
back of the burrow-mawgs’ enclosure. The resulting burst of gas
made the beasts at the rear of the frenzied pack convulse; Gardek
was far enough away to be unaffected.
Confident her partners had the burrow-mawg part of the
situation in hand, Colbie scrambled after Nazarko. Weaving
through the panicked crowd slowed her progress, and by the time
she reached the card room, the animal trainer was already at the
exit. As she’d expected, he was still pulling his hostage along;
keeping Kurgan under control had slowed him just enough.
She waited for Nazarko to throw open the door. Then she shouted,
“Doorstop! Come!”
The laborjack heard her despite the general racket inside the
gaming house. It turned and tramped toward the doorway, its
massive legs and torso blocking any view of the cavern beyond.
Had he reacted quickly, Nazarko could have let go of Kurgan and
dodged around the oncoming ’jack. Instead, taking advantage of the
distraction, Kurgan wrenched free and punched the animal trainer
in the throat.
Nazarko reeled. He tried to point the pistol, but Kurgan grabbed
the stubby barrel. The gang chieftain twisted the weapon away from
himself and toward the other man.
Teeth gritted and eyes glaring, the two men strained for control
of the gun. Wrench raised to brain Nazarko, Colbie dashed toward
them. But when she was still a stride out of striking distance, the
pistol went off. Nazarko dropped with a little hole at the spot where
his neck met his chin.
The wound would shortly be the death of him if it hadn’t been
already. Just in case, however, Kurgan stamped on his head and
neck and then sneered at Colbie. “Self-defense,” the gang boss said,
breathing heavily. “Rorke can’t object to that.”
“No,” she said with an exasperated sigh, “I guess he can’t.” She
turned toward the doorway. The Queen of Skulls was more solidly
built than the shack in the junkyard, and Doorstop hadn’t succeeded
in forcing its way through. But the ’jack’s dogged efforts to do so were
no doubt producing cosmetic damage at the very least. “Doorstop,
stop! Move five steps back!”
The machine obeyed, and she and Kurgan headed back into
the fighting hall. They arrived just in time to see Gardek flatten
the skull of the final burrow-mawg. As far as Colbie could see,
the bounty hunter and her other partners were unharmed—and
126
so were the people they’d fought to protect.

“Nazarko?” Eilish asked.
“Taken care of,” Colbie said. “Which means Mr. Kurgan owes us
our fee.”
The gang boss grunted. “I made plenty of coin off those burrow-
mawgs, and Nazarko won’t be easy to replace. But, yes, I’ll pay you.
You earned it.” He grinned. “Hell, you earned more. I invite you to
join the Knotted Cord!”
Colbie hesitated. She hadn’t minded working for a notorious
crime syndicate when the job was to stop the murder of innocent
people, but she had no interest in becoming a permanent part of
it. She suspected Milo, Gardek, and Eilish felt the same way. Yet
she wasn’t sure how to refuse without giving offense to a dangerous
man, and judging from the awkward silence, the others shared her
uncertainty.
Rorke spoke up. “Miss Sterling already has a plan for her future
that I endorse. She intends to establish a mercenary company. No
doubt Mr. Garrity, Mr. Stonebreaker, and Mr. Boggs will be her first
recruits. They plainly work well together.”
Colbie turned to the others. “I was going to ask you once I knew
the lieutenant would help me secure a charter.”
Milo nodded. “As long as I have time for my work. And you buy
me a lab.”
“A team can tackle bigger jobs,” Gardek said, “and bigger jobs
mean bigger bounties. I’ll give it a try.”
Eilish grinned. “I wouldn’t mind having some brute force
backing me up on those occasions when intellect alone proves
insufficient.” After a moment he added, “Though I require to be
named your second-in-command.” Gardek glared at the arcanist
but then shrugged. Colbie suspected the trollkin would do what
he wanted regardless of who gave him orders.
127
Kurgan gave Rorke a crooked smile. “And you won’t mind having
your own little band of mercenaries beholden to you.”
“Every action I take,” the lawman said, “is for the good of the
citizens of Corvis.” He turned to Colbie. “So, long live . . . what’s the
name on the application?”
“The Black River Irregulars.”
Eilish tilted his head. “Not bad. I can live with it.”
128
GLOSSARY
´jack marshal: A person who has learned how to give precise verbal
orders to a steamjack to direct it in labor or battle, sometimes called
marshaling. This is a highly useful occupational skill, although it
lacks the versatility or finesse afforded by the direct mental control of
steamjacks exercised by a warcaster.
´jack: See steamjack.
Amethyst Rose: The Loyal Order of the Amethyst Rose is a storied

martial organization in Llael whose members are gun mages originally
sworn to that nation’s crown. Many of its members served as royal
protectors, but the organization was officially disbanded after the
death of Llael’s last king. Its members persisted and met in secret,
still devoted to their original oaths. After the Fall of Llael, most of
the order’s surviving members became part of the Llaelese Resistance,
working from the shadows against Khadoran interests.
arcanist: Any of a variety of skilled practitioners of magic in western

Immoren, particularly those who make the study of magic their life’s
work, such as the Greylords Covenant of Khador.
argus: Enormous two-headed dogs, argus are predatory pack animals

that prowl the wilds of western Immoren. The twin heads of an argus
can combine their individual barks to produce a powerful sonic blast
that addles the mind and can temporarily paralyze its prey.
GLOSSARY
ascendant: A saint-like individual who has followed in Morrow’s footsteps

and ascended to serve his faith as beacons of enlightenment. Individual
ascendants are frequently chosen as patrons by Morrowan worshipers.
Black River: The longest river in western Immoren, connecting Rhul,

Llael, and Cygnar. Merywyn, Corvis, and Caspia-Sul rest on this
river, and it forms the eastern border of Cygnar, separating it from
the Bloodstone Marches.
burrow-mawg: An extremely aggressive badger-sized nocturnal

creature with powerful jaws filled with dozens of sharp, serrated fangs.
Corvis: The northeastern Cygnaran city occupying the conjunction

of the Black River and the Dragon’s Tongue River. Also called the
“City of Ghosts.”
Cygnar: A southern kingdom ruled by King Leto Raelthorne and

bearing the Cygnus on its flag. Generally considered the most
prosperous and technologically advanced of the Iron Kingdoms.
Dhunia: The primal goddess of fertility, the seasons, and nature

and thought by her adherents to be embodied by Caen itself. Her
worshipers are primarily gobbers, ogrun, and trollkin but also include
some wilderness races like the farrow. In some myths, Dhunia is seen
as the female embodiment of nature, while the Devourer Wurm is the
male embodiment. Viewed by Dhunian races as their divine mother.
gatormen: A bipedal, intelligent reptilian race resembling their

namesake. They are among the most formidable warriors in western
Immoren, as few can rival their raw killing power; even unarmed
gatormen are fearsome due to their strong jaws and flesh-ripping teeth.
They dwell in a variety of remote swamps, marshes, and riverbanks.
130
GLOSSARY
gobbers: A diminutive race of inquisitive, nimble, and entrepreneurial

individuals that has adapted well to human cities. Most gobbers stand
around three feet tall. Gobbers are known to have undeniable aptitude
for mechanikal devices and alchemy.
gorax: Hulking, primitive creatures with long arms ending in

oversized claws. Their faces are distinguished by protruding jaws
filled with fangs suited to tearing through flesh and bone alike. Gorax
are known to appreciate the taste of human flesh, and some prefer it
over all other fare.
gun mage: An arcanist capable of channeling arcane energy into rune

shots fired from magelock pistols.
Khador: The northernmost and largest of the Iron Kingdoms,

encompassing large expanses of frozen wilderness. Khador’s people
are proud of their military traditions, and the nation has a reputation
for aggressive expansionism.
kriels: The most important divisions of trollkin culture and the equivalent
of a trollkin tribe or clan, varying greatly in size but always comprising
several kiths, which are often (but not always) related. Members of the
same kriel share the same quitari pattern on their clothing.
laborjack: A steamjack used to perform heavy manual labor.

Laborjacks come in both light and heavy variants and many different
chassis, each designed for a specific type of work.
Llael: Once the smallest and easternmost Iron Kingdom but largely
conquered by 605 AR in the Llaelese War. Llael has since been divided
between Khador, the Protectorate of Menoth, and the Llaelese Resistance.
131
GLOSSARY
Longest Night: The Longest Night is a triennial event that falls upon
the winter solstice. It is a numberless day, conceived by the innovators
of the Morrowan calendar to compensate for a third of a day difference
between the calendar year and the astronomical year. This nocturnal
festival is observed in most of the western regions and includes heavy
drinking, music, and dancing. Celebrants often dress as the dead and
the festivities may also include fireworks. In many places, the Longest
Night is a three-night celebration.
magelock: The signature weapon of a gun mage. Only the costly and
difficult-to-fabricate steel alloys of these weapons can withstand the
arcane stresses created by rune shots.
mechanik: One who builds, maintains, and repairs mechanikal

equipment such as steamjacks.
mechanika: The fusion of mechanical engineering and arcane science.

Mechanikal weapons and tools are those employing mechanikal
components to augment their basic function or add new functionality.
Molgur-Trul: The native language of the trollkin, derived from the

ancient Molgur tongue.
Morrow: One of the Twins, brother to Thamar, and a god who was once
mortal but who ascended to divinity by achieving enlightenment. Also
known as the Prophet, Morrow is a benevolent god who emphasizes
self-sacrifice, good works, and honorable behavior. See also Church
of Morrow and Thamar.
ogrun: A physically powerful race averaging eight to nine feet in height

and renowned for great strength, honor, and loyalty. Most ogrun
are citizens of Rhul, though they can be found throughout the Iron
Kingdoms and are also present in the Scharde Islands serving Cryx.
132
GLOSSARY
Order of the Amethyst Rose: The Loyal Order of the Amethyst Rose
is a storied martial organization in Llael whose members are gun mages
originally sworn to that nation’s crown. Many of its members served
as royal protectors, but the organization was officially disbanded after
the death of Llael’s last king. Its members persisted and met in secret,
still devoted to their original oaths. After the Fall of Llael, most of
the order’s surviving members became part of the Llaelese Resistance,
working from the shadows against Khadoran interests.
Order of the Golden Crucible: An organization of alchemists, with

branches in Cygnar, Ord, and Llael. The order earns a sizable portion
of its money through the sale of commercial blasting powder used for
firearm and cannon ordnance.
Rhul/Rhulfolk: The northeastern nation bordering Khador, Llael,

and Ios. Dwarves of Rhul, a tenacious and skilled race that has long
traded with the nations of man, are referred to as Rhulfolk. Rhul is
also home to a sizable population of ogrun who have fully integrated
into Rhulic culture. Rhul is not one of the Iron Kingdoms.
steamjack: A steam-powered mechanikal construct designed in a

variety of configurations and sizes, used for both labor and warfare
throughout the Iron Kingdoms, Cryx, and Rhul. Some machines
referred to as such use power sources other than steam and are so are
not technically steamjacks but are still referred to as such as a matter
of custom.
swamp shambler: Dangerous undead creatures that inhabit isolated

swamps and marshes throughout western Immoren. It is commonly
believed that anyone who dies in such a place and is left unattended
may rise again in seven days as a swamp shambler, posessed of the
murderous intent to return to their homes and slay those they believe
abandoned them.
133
GLOSSARY
swampies: A swamp-dwelling people, usually of Morridane or

Arjun ancestry, most commonly found in Cygnar and eastern Ord.
Swampies do not consider the term pejorative but these people are
frequently subject to prejudice by city-dwellers who regard them as
unsophisticated and ignorant.
trollkin: A hardy and intelligent race that live both in their own
communities in the wilderness and within cities of man. Distantly
related to the more savage and monstrous trolls, trollkin have a distinct
appearance with colorful skin, usually blue in hue, and with quills
instead of hair and rock-like calcified growths on various parts of their
bodies. They possess a complex and rich culture, including their own
written language. Most trollkin worship the goddess Dhunia.
Undercity: A large, populated series of underground neighborhoods

beneath the surface streets of Corvis. Most of the Undercity is made up
of sunken streets and buildings abandoned by ordinary city residents,
while other areas occupy subterranean caves. Several portions of the
Undercity are under the control of criminal gangs.
Urcaen: A mysterious cosmological realm that is the spiritual

counterpart of the physical world of Caen. Most of the gods reside
here, and this is also where most souls spend the afterlife. Urcaen
is divided between protected divine domains and the hellish wilds
stalked by the Devourer Wurm.
warjack: A highly advanced and well-armed steamjack created or

modified for war. Some warjacks use power sources other than steam
and are not technically steamjacks but are still referred to as such as a
matter of custom.
134
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Lee Byers

Richard Lee Byers is the author of around forty fantasy and horror
novels, including a number set in the Forgotten Realms universe. A
resident of the Tampa Bay area, the setting for many of his horror
stories, he spends much of his free time fencing and playing poker.
Friend him on Facebook, follow him on Twitter, and read his blog
on Livejournal.
Murder in Corvis
Copyright © 2014 Privateer Press
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First electronic printing: September 26th, 2014
ISBN: 978-1-939480-75-0
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MURDER

RICHARD LEE BYERS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.................................................................141

T he world you are about to enter is the Iron Kingdoms, a place

people rose up in rebellion. This began a long and bloody process

north a disembodied dragon called Everblight leads a legion of

O ut on the street, the light of gas lamps gleamed on cobbles slick

Milo smiled. It was as if Morrow or one of the deity’s ascendants

Still treading silently, Milo quickened his pace until he came

He pulled the pin and bowled the grenade, sending it to explode

Gardek Stonebrow compressed the human’s carotid arteries until

After that, he turned into one of the many sections of cave no

The gambling house, however, was plainly the work of

me, and I have an idea how to collect.” He looked back at Nazarko.

E ilish Garrity had never visited the Queen of Skulls before,

brought up the rear. They all ended up crowded into an office

hunter—Gardek Stonebrow there—to catch the killer, and he did.

It was the trollkin’s turn to glare. “What are you saying?”

would have helped them imagine they were looking at something

“D amn it!” Kurgan snarled. He was upset at Gardek’s tacit

Colbie didn’t give him a chance to think of one. She turned to

The arcanist rounded on her. “A four-way split?” he demanded.

“I told you, Kurgan,” said Rorke, “I may be here unofficially, but

Not that it was a mission he necessarily intended to pursue to

T he fourth murder had taken place near a sinkhole that plunged

with a big hammer, an alchemist with grenades, and a spell caster.

concerned, the good thing about the alchemist’s exoneration was

Eilish followed, and then, reluctantly leaving his shield behind,

said. “I’m not climbing up again without talking to somebody.”

dust waft through the gap to Colbie and Eilish?

description, the detail wasn’t helpful. “Anything else?”

A t a corner table, two dwarves with flagons of beer in front of

Vague forms, blocks of a different, more solid darkness, emerged

to remain poised slightly above the ground although its neighbors

“And the Backbreakers didn’t inform the Watch,” she said,

“Idiot,” Gardek growled, clearly angry at the arcanist’s reckless

unfold and managed to come to the alchemist’s aid. As his adversaries’

“I’m reasonably certain the female died at the murderer’s hands,”

Gardek was fixated on the Backbreakers swarming up the central

clouted the shaman with the pommel of his weapon.

C olbie surrendered her bloody dagger and wrench to a trollkin

“I never killed any of them with my own hands,” the bounty

crisscrossed with dozens of gashes and reeking of death, no secret

“Get them!” called a third, and the kriel began to close in on

killer alive if possible,” Gardek added. “You have my word: if we

T he stack of crowns in front of Milo was growing, and he wished

prevent them from collecting the reward. With some scheming,

Once outside, he cast about until he located Natak, who was

his hook and shroud and get on with the slaughtering.

Through tear-blurred eyes, Gardek saw several figures emerge

ruffian scrambled over to him and bashed him with a club.

thought of victory, a bang heralded a new cloud of choking vapors.

C olbie woke to a pounding head along with a raw throat and

“I saw them breathing.” His wide mouth twisted. “Damn it, we

“All right,” Colbie said. “We were shadowing Natak.”

looked more bemused than homicidal.

have people spying on it as it conducts business. So you see how it is.

“Interesting,” Canice said. “But none of that changes the

E ilish’s former schoolmate Gwen Farstaff, a petite doctor with

“You’ll have to dig.”

on the good side of some powerful people. Lives are at stake.”

scheme of things, would a few more truly matter?

Gardek repeatedly rolled his aching shoulder as he approached

A watchman saw Eilish and his partners coming and moved to