The dwarf and the sewer-jacks. Could they have recognised him? And what would he do about it if they had? They were simple men doing their simple job. Like him, they were struggling to keep Chaos at bay. But would they understand the necessity of what he did? If they did not, perhaps they would understand that it was necessary to ensure their silence forever.


Slowly the hungover sewerjacks lowered themselves into the depths. One by one they clambered down the ladders lowered through the access ports. Rudi, now acting sergeant, lit the lantern and illuminated the tunnel.

The stink hit Felix like a hammer even as he carefully stepped from the ladder onto the ledge. This was the trickiest part of the operation. There was only about one foot of clearance between the ladder and the edge of the walkway. A misstep had carried many a still-drunk sewerjack into the stew.

“You missed yourself last night, young Felix,” Hef said.

“We gave the sarge a fine send-off,” Spider added.

“Gotrek downed seven jacks of ale one after the other and wasn’t even sick. We took a week’s wages off the first watch.”

“I’m very pleased for you,” Felix said. Gotrek looked none the worse for his exploits. Of all the sewerjacks he was the only one who didn’t appear ill. The rest were ghastly, pale, and walked with the shuffling gait of old men.

“Ah, there’s nothing like the smell of the stew to clear your head in the morning,” Hef said, proceeding to stick his head out over the edge of the walkway and be violently sick.

“Fair clears the head it does,” Rudi added, with no trace of irony.

“I can see that,” Felix said.

“We’re going to sweep through the area where the sarge got taken,” Rudi said. “We decided it last night. We want to see if we can find the scumbag who deals with the skaven. And maybe if we can’t find him we’ll find some of his pink-tailed little friends.”

“And what if they’ve got more of those gas bombs?” Felix asked.

“Not to worry. Gotrek’s an old tunnel fighter. He explained how to deal with it.”

“Oh, did he?”

“Yes. We soak our scarves in piss and breathe through them. That cuts out the gas.”

“I knew it would be something like that,” Felix said, glaring at the Trollslayer, wondering if the others were really convinced by Gotrek’s claims or whether they were simply humouring him. One look at their haggard, determined faces convinced him that it was the former.

“It’s true, manling. My ancestors fought the skaven at Karak Eight Peaks and it worked for them.”

“If you say so,” Felix said. He could tell it was going to be a long day.


They followed the route of the previous day towards the area beneath the Old Quarter. As they went, Felix had time to reflect on how strange his life was. His brother’s house was somewhere above his head and he had not known it. He had not even known Otto was in the city. The fact that his brother had found him was certainly a testimony to the efficiency of his spy network.

Felix suspected that such things were necessary to anyone who wanted to do business in Nuln nowadays. What Otto had said about Schaffer and the countess’s secret police was worrying too. Felix was sorry for the old man but he was more worried about himself. Both he and the Trollslayer were wanted by the law for their part in the great Window Tax riots in Altdorf.