Here was something else to report back to Thanquol. A secret Clan Skryre scheme to acquire human treasures. Surely Grey Seer Thanquol would reward anyone who would report such a thing to him. He leaned forward stealthily so that so he could see what was going on below him. The movement dislodged some pebbles and sent them skittering to the floor. The noise disturbed the Clan Skryre skaven, he saw them jump into defensive stances and whip out their blades.

“What was that sound-noise?” Heskit demanded.

“I do not know, bravest of leaders,” Squiksquik said. “Quick! Quick! Go! Investigate.”

“A leader’s place is in the rear. You go!”

Lurk cursed his bad luck. The noise had interrupted the Skryre’s plotting and now he might never know what they were up to.

“Most likely it is nothing, wisest of warleaders. Subsidence merely. Tunnels are old.”

The two of them stood immobile in postures of listening. Lurk hoped they did not look up. He dared not even pull himself back into the shadows lest the movement attract the attention of their keen skaven senses. He felt sure that they would be able to hear the pounding of his heart. It was all he could do to keep from squirting the musk of fear.

Slowly the two nervous Clan Skryre rat-men relaxed, letting their breath come out slowly and easily. After a few more heartbeats, they returned to their plotting.

“What are your orders, most cunning of commanders?”

“We will attack the man-things’ steamworks tonight during the dark of the moon. Their gun machines must be ours so that we can improve on them. Their steam-chariots must be examined to see how we may increase their effectiveness ten-thousand fold.”

“It will be as you wish, most superlative of technicians.”

“See that it is so!” Heskit barked and turned his back on Squiksquik to stalk away. Lurk could not help but notice that as soon as Heskit’s back was turned, his lackey flicked his thumb against his protruding incisors in the traditional skaven gesture of disrespect. Heskit turned. By the time his leader’s eye was upon him, Squiksquik had once again adopted a posture of fawning adoration.

“Do not stand there all day. Come! Come! Quick! Quick! There is much work to be done.”

In the darkness, Lurk smiled. He had learned many useful things here, and it was time to visit the grey seer.


“What do you want?” Grey Seer Thanquol inquired, looking up from the scroll which he had been reading. “I thought you went to the surface. To kill the dwarf!”

“No, most potent of sorcerers,” Lurk replied, adopting the form of address that worked so well for Squiksquik. He understood now its power. Thanquol seemed to swell visibly at the flattery and began to preen his fur. “While rushing to obey your most clever command, I stumbled upon evidence of plotting and knew that only the great Thanquol himself would have the intelligence to know how to deal with it.”

“Plotting? Explain yourself! Hurry-hurry!”

Quickly, and leaving out only the details of how he came to be there, Lurk outlined what he had overheard. Thanquol tilted his head to one side and bared his fangs at the news. As he listened his tail began to lash backwards and forwards, a sure sign that a skaven was agitated.