With a gurgle, the chief magistrate died. Agony seared Felix’s brain and he fell.


“Wake up, manling. This is no time to be lying around.”

Felix felt water splash over his face. He coughed and spluttered and shook his head. “What the—”

“We’d better get out of here before the White Wolves arrive.”

“Leave me alone.” Felix just wanted to lie there. “You go and fight them. You always wanted to die heroically.” Gotrek shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. “I can’t, manling. I’m a Slayer. I’m supposed to die honourably. If we’re caught now folk might think we were committing a burglary.”

“So?”

“Theft brings disgrace. I’m trying to atone for my disgrace.”

“I can imagine some worse crimes, like drowning a dying man, for instance.”

“You’re not dying, manling. That’s barely a scratch.”

“Well, if we must.” Felix pulled himself to his feet. He looked around at the files. It occurred to him that the information here would be worth a fortune to the right person. Even a small selection of what was here would be invaluable. The possibilities for blackmail and extortion were endless.

He looked at the Slayer and remembered what he had said of theft. Gotrek wouldn’t condone him taking the papers. Even if he would, Felix decided he could not take them. It was corrupt, the life work of a maniac like von Halstadt. Contained in those papers were things that could ruin men’s lives. There were too many secrets already in Nuln. These represented too much power to fall into anybody’s hands. He took the lanterns and poured their oil over the filing cases. Then he set them alight.

Running downstairs with the smell of burning paper filling his nostrils, Felix felt oddly free. He realised that he would not be going to work with Otto after all, and that pleased him tremendously.

 

GUTTER RUNNERS



“Needless to say, we could not tell the authorities the whole truth of our encounter with the skaven, for in doing so we would implicate ourselves in the murder of a high official of the court of the Countess Emmanuelle. And murder, no matter how deserving the victim, is a capital crime.

“We were dismissed from service and forced to seek alternate employment. As luck would have it, during a drunken spree in one of the less salubrious quarters of the city, we happened upon a tavern, the owner of which had been a companion of the Slayer’s in his mercenary days. We were employed to eject undesirables from the bar, and believe me when I tell you that people had to be very undesirable indeed to warrant being thrown out of the Blind Pig.

“The work was hard, violent and unrewarding but at least I thought we were safe from the skaven. Of course, as was so often the case.