It had been banned by Countess Emmanuelle, Felix remembered.

"It was very powerful, Manfred. Very haunting."

"Haunting, very good! Very good indeed! I must go now, visit my ailing uncle. I hope to talk to you again before the journey is complete."

They bowed and the nobleman turned and walked away. Felix stared after him, unable to reconcile this amiable eccentric young nobleman and the brooding, Chaos-haunted images of his work. Among the cognoscenti of Altdorf, Manfred von Diehl was known as a brilliant playwright and a blasphemous one.

By mid-morning the exiles were ready to leave. At the front of the long straggling line Felix could see a tired-looking white-haired old man, clad in a cloak of sable skin, mounted on a black charger. He rode under the unfurled wolf banner that was held by Dieter. Beside him Manfred leaned over to say something to the old man. The Baron gestured and the whole caravan of his people began to roll forward.

Felix felt a thrill pass through him at the sight of it all. He drank in the spectacle of the line of wagons and carts with their armed escort of mounted and armoured warriors. He clambered up aboard the supply wagon that he and Gotrek had commandeered from a crabbed old servant in Baronial livery.

Around them the mountains jutted skyward like grey titans. Trees dotted their sides and streams ran like quicksilver down their flanks towards the source of Thunder River. Rain, mingled with snow, softened the harsh outline of the landscape and lent it a wild loveliness.

"Time to go again," moaned Gotrek, clutching his head, eyes bleary and hungover. They rumbled forward, taking their place in the line. Behind them men-at-arms shouldered their crossbows, drew their cloaks tight and began to march. Their oaths mingled with the curses and the whipcracks of the drivers and the lowing of the oxen. A baby cried.

Somewhere behind them a woman began to sing in a low musical voice. The child's squalling quietened. Felix leaned forward hoping to catch sight of Kirsten among the people trudging through the sleet towards the rolling hills that unfolded below them like a map.

He felt almost at peace, drawn in to all that human motion, as if he were being borne by a river towards his goal. He already felt part of this small itinerant community, a sensation he had not enjoyed for a long time. He smiled, but was drawn from his reverie by Gotrek's elbow in his ribs.

"Keep your eyes peeled, manling. Orcs and goblins haunt these mountains and the lands below."

Felix glared at him, but when he gazed once more at his surroundings it was not to appreciate their wild beauty. He was keeping watch for possible ambush sites.

Felix looked back at the mountains. He was not sorry to be leaving those bleak highlands. Several times they had been assaulted by green-skinned goblins whose shields bore the sign of a crimson claw. The wolf-riders had been beaten back, but with casualties. Felix was red-eyed from lack of sleep. Like all the warriors he had taken double stints on watch, for the raiders attacked at night. Only Gotrek seemed to be disappointed by the lack of pursuit.

"By Grungni," he said. "We won't see them again, not since Dieter shot their leader.