The pressure forced him to let go the stein. Despite frantic resistance Felix's arm was inexorably forced up his back by Kell's superior strength. The smell of bear fat and body odour was almost overpowering. Felix snarled and tried to writhe free but his struggles were fruitless.

Something sharp jabbed into his throat. Felix looked down. Hef held a long-bladed knife at his throat. Felix smelled its well-oiled steel. He saw his own red blood trickle down its central channel. Felix froze. All Hef had to do was lean forward and Felix would be walking in the kingdom of Morr.

"That was downright unfriendly, boy," said Hef. "Old Lars was only bein' affectionate and you had to go and bust his teeth. Now what you reckon we should do about that, we bein' his friends and all?"

"Kill the thnotling fondler," gasped Lars. Felix felt Kell push his arm further up his back till he thought it would break. He moaned in pain.

"Reckon we'll just do that," said Hef.

"You can't," said the trader behind the bar. "That'd be murder."

"Shut-up, Pike," said Hef. "Who asked you?"

Felix could see they meant to do it. They were full of drunken violence and ready to kill. Felix had just given them the excuse they needed.

"Been a long time since I killed me a pretty boy," said Hef, pushing his knife forward just a fraction. Felix grimaced with pain. "Gonna beg, pretty boy? Gonna beg for your life?"

"Go to hell," said Felix. He would have liked to spit but his mouth felt dry and his knees were weak. He was shaking. He closed his eyes.

"Not so polite now, city boy?" Felix felt thick laughter rumble in Kell's throat. What a place to die, he thought incongruously, some hell-spawned outpost in the Grey Mountains. There was a blast of chill air and the sound of a door opening.

"The first one to hurt the manling dies instantly," said a deep voice that grated like stone crushed against stone. "The second one I take my time over."

Felix opened his eyes. Over Hef's shoulders he could see Gotrek Gurnisson, the Trollslayer. The dwarf stood silhouetted in the doorway, his squat form filling it lengthwise. He was only the height of a boy of nine years but he was muscled like two strong men. Torch light illuminated the strange tattoos that covered his half-naked body and turned his eye-sockets into shadowy caves from which mad eyes glittered.

Hef laughed, then spoke without turning round.