decaying corpse floating face down nearby lurched at him。 Worms writhed in its throat as its mouth
gaped open； and fingers that had rotted down to the bone latched onto Raben’s leg。
The outcast knight cried out in shock； kicking at the horrid dead thing。 Calard’s sword carved into its
head with a wet； squelching sound and it slipped back into the mire； releasing its grip。 Raben scrambled
back away from the edge and hauled himself to his feet； clearly shaken。
‘The dead do not rest easy in Mousillon；’ said Grandfather Mortis with an evil grin； materialising like
a wraith out of the gloom。 ‘Come。 This is where we part ways。’
THE HEAVY SEWER grate was dragged aside； and Calard lifted himself up from the darkness； eyeing his
surroundings。 He was in a shadowy； refuse…strewn alley no more than three feet wide。 Rats were feasting
on the body of a dead cat nearby； and they hissed at him aggressively as he interrupted their meal。 The
smell was hardly any better here than it was down in the sewer； but at least he was no longer below
ground。
Calard turned and helped Raben out； then looked back down into the darkness。
‘Hurry； peasant；’ he said。 ‘We have not got much time。’
Down at bottom of the rusted ladder； unseen by Calard； Grandfather Mortis had a tight hold of
Chlod and was speaking to him in a low； threatening voice。 The hunchbacked peasant’s face was pale。
‘Do this one thing and your past crimes will be forgotten；’ hissed Mortis。
Chlod nodded vigorously； and Mortis released him。 Straightening； he stepped backwards and was
swallowed by the darkness。
‘Do not fail me；’ came his deep； hollow voice。
Shaking； Chlod climbed up towards street level。 Calard grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him
up the last few feet。
Calard had not wished to take the peasant with him； but Mortis had been insistent。
‘He is no longer yours to command；’ the old man had said。 ‘He is mine； and mine alone； but he
accompanies you to the palace。’
The idea of being abandoned beneath the city had not been an appealing one； for he doubted that he
would have ever gotten out； and he had reluctantly agreed。
The sewer grate was dragged back into place； and Calard pulled his hood down low over his face。
‘Let’s end this；’ he said。
NEVER HAD CALARD walked the streets of a city more wretched； threatening or foul。
Every building was dark and oppressive； and so twisted beyond its original construction that it
looked as though it was contorted in silent agony。 Timbers were warped and swollen with moisture； and
brickwork was bulging and uneven。 The foundations of some had sunk； while others had seemingly given
up completely and collapsed in upon themselves。
The smell of rot was heavy in the air and mould covered every surface。 A foetid yellow fog filled the
streets； reducing visibility to little more than a dozen yards； deadening all sound。 The ground was rutted
and undulating； and refuse and filth was piled up high against the walls。
They were not alone in this city of the damned。
Everywhere they walked they saw hundreds of downtrodden； desperate people； filthy and dressed in
rags。 From shuttered windows and dark alleyways； the inhabitants of Mousillon city watched their
progress through the district of Old City。 Lepers and crippled beggars clutched at them； holding out
wooden bowls。 Miserable； malformed street…sellers sat alongside carts filled with rotten produce； while
others offered them such tempting treats as twitching toads on sticks and greasy bags of slugs。
Wasted children clutching butcher’s knives ran by them； giggling as they chased a terrified； scabby
dog。 Muscled brutes wearing leather masks were throwing fresh corpses onto a wagon piled high with
the dead。 Whores with bruises and open sores on their faces called out to them from doorways。 Sickly
smoke rose from shadowy dens where a man could lose himself if he had the coin and inclination。
Footpads； pickpockets and bruisers lurked in the shadows； but Calard and his companions were left
well alone。 It seemed that Mortis was as good as his word。 The cadaverous old bastard had told them
that they would be untouched； claiming that his word was law in the poorer districts of Mousillon。 Calard
had thought this boast just to be bluster； but he saw now that he had been mistaken。 He had had no
doubt in his mind that their throats would have already been slit and their bodies dumped in a back alley
without Mortis’s patronage。
It took them the better part of an hour to wind their way through the slums。 At last they came to a
wide bridge lined with crumbling statues that crossed the River Grismarie。 The smell of brine was strong；
for the river opened up to the sea less than five miles to the west。
The river was wide and slow here； and it bisected the city； dividing it into two halves。 To the south
were the poorer and more populated districts； along with the sprawling docklands。 On the north side was
the old temple district； and beyond that； the ducal palace itself。
IT WAS SAID that Mousillon had once been the pride of Bretonnia； its most bustling； wealthy and
beautiful city。 It had been home to Landuin； the finest knight to have ever lived； and was said to have
been a place of beauty； culture and learning。 How things changed； thought Calard。
Thousands of downward…pointing spikes protruded from the high walls lining the river； set several
feet above the high…tide mark。 Similar spikes adorned the legs of the mile…long bridge itself。 Calard
frowned。
‘They stop the city from being overrun；’ said Raben。 ‘Look there。’
Following where the outcast pointed； Calard squinted through the gloom。 A number of corpses were
impaled on the rusting spikes。 With a shudder； he saw that most of them were moving。
‘Come；’ said Raben。 ‘This is our gate。’
A fortified gate barred entry to the north side of the city； and as they walked towards it； Calard saw
armoured figures waiting for them。 If Raben was going to betray him； this was his moment。
‘Just so we are clear； you’re on your own once we’re inside；’ said Raben under his breath； as if on
cue。
‘Fine；’ said Calard。
‘And if by some miracle you succeed； I want full patronage。 A title。 And land。 A castle by the sea
would be nice。’
‘What？’ said Calard。
‘A little something to ensure that I don’t accidentally let the cat out of the bag；’ said Raben。
‘For a moment； I was starting to think you risked showing something approaching honour；’ Calard
snarled。
‘No fear of that；’ said Raben。 Calard began to answer； but Raben interjected。 ‘Careful now； they’re
watching；’ he said。 ‘You want to get near the duke； don’t you？ One word from me； and your quest is
over。’
They drew closer to the checkpoint； and Calard saw that there were more than twenty soldiers
stationed here； armed with crossbows and halberds。 The gates were closed and barred。
‘If we get through this； and you somehow prove to me that I would not regret it； I’ll see you are
rewarded；’ said Calard。 ‘I will offer you no more than that； but you have my word。’
‘Just keep silent then；’ said Raben as they came to a halt in front of the gate。 He flashed a sardonic
smile at Calard。 ‘Trust me。’
‘YOU I KNOW； sir； but who are these； then？’ said the captain of the guard； eyeing Calard and Chlod
suspiciously。
‘My second in command；’ said Raben； ‘and my servant。 Let us through； captain。 I don’t want to be
any later than we already are。’
‘What’s his name？’ said the captain； indicating Calard。 ‘I don’t recognise him； and I’ve a gift for
faces。’
Calard opened his mouth to speak； but Raben interceded。
‘Valacar；’ said Raben。 ‘His name is Valacar。’
‘Why don’t he speak for himself？’ said the captain。
‘He’s mute；’ said Raben in a deadpan voice； ignoring Calard’s stare。
‘He’s not on my list；’ said the captain。 ‘And neither is your servant。 My orders are strict。 Ain't no one
not on my list getting through this gate。’
‘Let me make this simple；’ Raben said； reaching out to put his arm around the captain’s shoulders。 ‘
The Duke Merovech is a close personal friend of mine； and he is expecting us to be there tonight。 We are
already late as it is； and if we are any later； I will make certain that I inform the duke personally exactly
who it was that detained us。 It is Harol； isn’t it？ That is your name； if I am not mistaken？’
‘You are not； sir；’ said the captain； swallowing heavily。
‘Are we done here； captain？’ said Raben； slapping the man hard on the shoulder。
‘We’re done。 I’ll have a coach drop you at the palace right away； sir。 Open them up！’
Raben released the captain； and gave Calard a wink as the gates yawned open。
‘Oh； and sir？’
‘Yes； captain？’ said Raben。
‘Enjoy the celebration。’
‘Oh； we will；’ said Raben with a smile。
IX
THE COACH ROLLED smoothly to a halt and its black lacquered doors swung open； seemingly of their
own accord。 A small set of steps unfolded with a clatter； and Calard and Raben stepped down from the
plush； dark velvet interior。
Other coaches were lined up around the curve of the circular roadway inside the palace gates。 Each
was gleaming black； and on every door was emblazoned a black fleur…de…lys upon a white shield。
Hunched coac