Gotrek grunted ominously. The guards shifted their attention to him, looking worried.

“Far more than you, sir,” replied Ulrika with bare civility. The merchant’s heavy-set bodyguards gave her a warning glance. Ulrika merely smiled coldly at them, and her hand toyed with the pommel of her sword. Neither of the two big men looked worried, which was not too bright. Felix had seen Ulrika fight with that blade and would have backed her against most men. “I am the daughter of Ivan Petrovich Straghov.”

“The march boyar,” said the fat man with more respect. His bodyguards relaxed a little, like attack dogs whose master has given them a sign not to attack just yet. “Perhaps you would care to explain what you mean. I am sure everyone here would give ear to a discourse from the daughter of the man who has guarded our frontier with the Chaos Wastes for the past twenty years.”

“There are no daemons,” she said, “No flamers. None of the more exotic monsters that sometimes come down from the Wastes to ravage and burn.”

“Why is that?” the merchant asked.

“I don’t know,” Ulrika said.

“Perhaps I can explain,” said a familiar voice. Felix turned to see that Max Schreiber had made his way to the roof. Was he following them, Felix wondered? It was fairly obvious that Max was enamoured of Ulrika, which was not good. Felix liked the man well enough but he was a little annoyed by his persistence in seeking Ulrika’s affections. Felix felt that soon he might have to say something. He wasn’t looking forward to the prospect. Having a wizard for an enemy was rarely a good thing, as Felix had found out to his cost in the past.

“And who are you, sir?”

“Max Schreiber, an Imperial wizard, formerly in the service of the Elector Count of Middenheim.”

If Max had announced that he was the chief baby eater at the court of the Lords of Chaos he could scarcely have got a colder response. Everyone glared at him suspiciously, as if he were in some way connected with the vast attacking army down below. Felix was torn between satisfaction at his rival’s discomfiture and sympathy for a man who had been his comrade on a dangerous quest. Max had obviously forgotten he was not in the Empire for a moment. Even there magicians were only tolerated, not popular. In Kislev, they still burned mages in the more isolated areas. If Max was embarrassed, he gave no sign of it. Felix supposed he was used to frosty receptions by now. The wizard kept speaking as if his audience were enthralled by his every word, which in a way, Felix supposed they were.

“The winds of magic blow stronger and darker up by the Chaos Wastes. Many supernatural beings such as those of which Ulrika spoke need the presence of strong magic in order to manifest themselves for any length of time. The winds of magic, particularly those associated with Chaos, are much less strong this far south.”

“So you are saying that we are safe from daemons at least,” said the fat merchant. His words were almost a snarl.

“No.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I am saying the reason you can’t see them is because they have not been summoned yet. The winds of magic are strong enough here to support such beings only for a short time, say for the length of a battle. I have no doubt that there are Chaos sorcerers down there powerful enough to summon them.”

“You seem very knowledgeable about these matters, young man,” said one of the noblewomen, backing as far away from Max as possible.

“Suspiciously so,” said the fat merchant.