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‘Well, they tried that last time, didn’t they?’

Ardata turned on Scabandari. ‘Look what you’ve done, Tiste!’

‘I merely pointed at the man, milady!’

Snarling, Ardata made to march off, towards the temple, but K’rul stepped into her path. ‘A moment,’ he begged. ‘I need your help.’

Her look of stunned incredulity was almost comical to Scabandari’s eyes, and yet she halted.

‘The gates of my Warrens, Ardata, the ones the dragons will now seek out.’

‘What of them?’

A brief look of intense frustration twisted K’rul’s face. ‘What value guardians, Ardata,’ he said in a painfully slow voice, ‘if they can leave whenever they please?’

She crossed her arms. ‘Go on.’

‘I need your talent … with webs. Or, in this case, chains.’

‘You … devious … bastard. Anything else you would ask of me?’

‘Yes. You need to sew up the carcass of a dragon upon the south shore of the Vitr Sea.’

‘Why?’

‘I need it.’

‘Why?’

‘It once belonged to Korabas, forever shunned by her kin, because she is—’

‘The Devourer of Magic. Abyss below, K’rul! But … a carcass?’

He rubbed at his face. ‘Yes, well. It’s complicated, but someone is at this very moment about to complete a ritual, opening a gate into the Warren of Death.’

‘Take note, K’rul, of my extraordinary self-control in that I am not at this moment strangling you.’

‘My faith in you is, as ever, well founded.’

‘And in return for all this?’

‘Your lover escaped the Vitr in the belly of Korabas, Ardata. She walked into the halls of Kharkanas, and took upon herself the Tiste name T’riss. Ardata, my power manifests across this entire realm. She may well seek to hide herself from other Azathanai, but from me that is not possible. Accordingly, when we are done, I will take you to her.’

‘A Warren of Death? You are truly mad, K’rul. Who rules it?’

He smiled. ‘As of yet, no one. Do we have a deal?’

‘Yes, although I am sure I will come to regret it. Every gate a snare, then? I admit, that part pleases me.’

‘I thought it might.’

They walked into the temple.

Scabandari returned now to Osserc, who had regained something of himself and now stood near the dying embers of the bonfire. ‘Milord, we have a fraught journey ahead of us.’

‘We’ll not survive it. Not without horses.’

‘I will make a request of K’rul, then.’

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