Houses like corpses had coughed their innards across the cobblestones. They lay scattered and crushed together, the village a mass grave of wood and ceramic and rock burnt and smashed and broken, and through this ruin Martin the Undestine stalked. And lo! in stalking a billowing and dark-skinned shape stalked with him. A pale cloak swallowed her figure whole; as she moved she seemed to glide limblessly, the wind snapping at her greying hair. 'There's consequences,' she said.

Martin shrugged his pack higher on his shoulders and hopped over the slumped remains of a chimney. 'It's the principle of the thing.'

Finding the archives wasn't hard. The Hollow King had a fondness for them, they said, but this only a rumour that sprang from the way they could be found standing lonely in the ruins he left. Rubble shored its flanks. Martin shouldered the door and felt the resistance of a locking bar.

'Open up, damn you!' he shouted, beating his fist on the wood. Glancing at his companion: 'He'd better be here.'

Selseen said nothing. After another minute of his bluster they heard the bar scrape free and, creaking ajar, the door revealed a thin-jawed face, balding and brow frown-lined.

'Oh,' it said, throwing the door wide. 'Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.'

~

'The pass, then.'

Across from them Weldt's eyes flicked up from his book. 'Old Empty covets it,' he said. Martin grunted. He leaned over the map, grinding his teeth as he went through his options.

'The nomads?'

Selseen drew a line across the map with her finger. 'Your best bet is the Wilted Turn,' she said, monotoned. 'Room to maneouvre if by chance you do cross them.'

'Shit on that. Last time I risked chance this happened.' He yanked the amulet around his neck. It let out a shimmering chime and, jewel flaring with angelic light, its chain tightened. He released it with a scowl and it slackened. 'Practically lassoed me about the neck. Bloody ridiculous.'

'You've made destiny desperate. I told you this was folly. You can't fight the laws of the world.'

Martin glared at her over the table. 'And yet here you are.' His eyes narrowed. 'If I find out you're leading me toward prophecy—'

She raised her palms, eyes glinting amusement. 'I speak freely, Undestine, not cruelly.'

He studied her. Finding nothing on her placid face Martin turned to Weldt. 'What about the southern coast?'

'Rife!' Weldt thumbed through yellowed scrolls, shaking his head. 'There the lawless cities. Mercenaries abound.'

'I just need to escape the continent.'

'You wouldn't even reach the docks,' said Selseen. 'Not with the bounty on your head.'

'Why would the King want me brought to him? I'm trying to flee!'

'It's his supporters. They chase favour. But if the King even knew your intentions, would he trust them?'

Letting out a growl of frustration Martin dug his flintlock from its holster, jammed it against his temple, and pulled the trigger. It clicked. Smoke sneezed out of the barrel. He threw it across the table in disgust and buried his head in his hands.

After a moment Selseen scooped the firearm up off the floor and tossed it back to him. 'Don't be a child.'

Martin shot her a look of mixed hatred and shame, and that was when they heard thumping on the door. Oh! And did the walls not tremble, did the bones of the village not sigh with that resonant and portent-pregnant rapping of fate upon the archives door? For is it not written—

Weldt waddled down the hall to peer through an arched crenellation. 'Oh,' he said. 'Is but a merchant and his caravan.'

Martin launched out of his seat. 'Is he in crimson robes?' He snatched his backpack off the floor. 'A patch over his eye?'

'No, no, no,' Weldt bumbled, unbarring the door. 'Has got quite a tidy jacket on. More rust than crimson.'

'Don't let them in! What about—'

A hound leapt past Weldt as he pulled open the door. It barked gleefully, bounding towards Martin. Its coat was blood red; a scar jagged across its eye.

A chair clattered to the floor. The Undestine pelted toward the nearest window, white-faced, flintlock aimed and clicking feebly at the dog. The earth shuddered beneath their feet. Selseen steadied herself on the grim-faced bust of some long-dead patron as the floor cracked and buckled. Shelves spewed scrolls and ragged volumes as they tumbled into hungry glowering depths.

She heard Martin's wail as the dog ran circles around him. 'Gods, no! Damn you, Weldt, this village was built above the—'

In a storm of dust and bustling stone the earth yawned wide and dragged the chosen one, the half-blind guide and the wandering seer screaming down into the Deeplands.