Chapter 2

Karras slumped in his chair, and idly fingered his quill as Hammersmith talked on the other side of the desk. The man stood tall and straight, his hammer at his side, and his other hand holding a sheet of paper close to his eyes. Hammersmith held the paper close to his eyes, and read haltingly from the scrawled script there.

"Three men art now with the Master Builder, after they didst not exercise due care and attention when they examined the trap that thou didst order them to."

Karras jerked upright at that, and looked up at the man.

"What didst thou say, Brother? Three men? Didst I hear right? Thou hast just told me that three men are now with the Builder? Didst they not listen to mine orders when examining the traps?

Hammersmith fidgeted as Karras stared at him. As the overseer, the large Hammerite knew that he was responsible for the men. The Bonehoard was a dangerous place, and Hammersmith was aware that if he wished to be able to study for the priesthood he so wanted he would have to impress his superiors. Karras drove his men hard, but the Master Forger Garacon had ensured that the priest was only given the laziest, most heretical, and most disposable men.

"They were fools", Karras said, "who didst imagine that they couldst defy death. Why is't that those heretics at the Cathedral didst send me only the most incompetent of mine brethren? When I didst request this job to discover the mysteries of the Bonehoard, I did not known that I wouldst be foiled at every stage of its implementation! Why, we have lost fifteen men alone merely sending those accursed zombies to their Builder! The only reason that we didst overcome them was through the grace of the Master Builder, in making them all depart for some reason."

Hammersmith seemed to shrivel under the force of this tirade. He had rarely seen Karras so angry - the priest was usually cold and supercilious. He had thrown himself into the task of discovering the Bonehoard and its secrets with surprising passion, but the mistakes of his workforce frustrated him at every turn.

Finally Karras was silent, and Hammersmith was able to stop trying to avoid catching Karras's eye. He took his gaze away from the moss-covered walls, and instead looked back down at the priest at the table in front of him.

Karras waved a hand to dismiss the man, and then looked back at his interrupted work. He moaned in anguish. Another three of his brethren dead - that was six in the past week. At this rate he would be through with the task-force before the Bonehoard had even been mapped. He had been eager to explore the place at first, eager to examine the long dead technology that had given rise to myths about the Bonehoard's impregnability. He had to admit that technology was impressive. The arrow traps in particular were extremely skilled at filling his men full of arrows.

He picked up the quill, and fixed his mind on his work again. The weekly report to the Master Forger was due, and he had naught to report. The tombs were bare of valuables, as if a thief had stripped the place clean. Karras had seen with his own eyes footprints in the caverns, and a rope arrow that hung from the wooden ceiling of the Upper Vaults. There were several half-rotted bodies lying about, but none had any valuables on them. Karras, as much as he despised thieves and thievery, had a small amount of admiration for the man who had pitted his wits and his skill against the zombies, and won.

However, other prospects were promising. The dismantling of several of the arrow traps had revealed their inner workings, and he had hopes of being able to produce weapons of war from them. He had ample proof that they could kill. His lip curled in disgust. The Hammerites he had been assigned were the dregs of the barrel, the weakest members of the Order, who seemed better suited to life on the streets than as honoured brethren. They complained insecently, of the damp, the smell, the rotting corpses of thieves and zombies, and the arrow traps that slew so many of them. Their flesh was weak, and yielded far too readily to the arrows and boulders. If only they were encased in metal, that would protect them. Not that they were worth protecting, but if he, Karras, were to examine the traps then some protection would be in order.

He was considering this line of thought, imagining men wearing and controlling suits of metal, when Wills rushed in. The man was breathing heavily, and in the light of the flickering torches he seemed to be covered in blood. Air whistled from his mouth as he sucked it in, while trying to retain an upright posture. Karras briefly glanced up at the man, and then looked up again and stared intently as he took in the sight before him. The man was desperate to say something, and so Karras waved his hand to indicate that he should proceed;

"Brother Karras," Wills said "thine brethren hast need of thou in the Alarus Extension! We didst come across a trap of which there wast no warning, and Tabaris didst take an arrow in the chest. He hast me to request that thou dost say the Prayer of the Dying over him before he dost die in this pagan place".

The words poured out of Will's mouth, as Karras sat aghast in his chair. However, he was not thinking of Tabaris's pain. He was only thinking of the delays, the setbacks. One less man to explore the workings of these precious traps, one less worthless body that had not accomplished anything before the arrow pierced his chest. Karras felt like letting the fool die as an example to others, but was aware that his hold over the other Hammerites was tenuous. Besides, Garacon had the ear of Markander, and Garacon's worthless nephew was due to arrive at the site within a few days. He sighed inwardly and stood up, and instructed the man to lead him to Tarbaris.

When the pair arrived at the newly opened Alarus Extension it was clear that there was nothing that could be done for the broken body on the floor. Despite the hands and cloths that pressed on the chest, blood spurted out as the treacherous heart pumped the man's life away. The blood dribbled down Tarbaris's side, and formed red puddles at his side. It was bright red, and seemed to disappear where it met the red of the man's surcoat. He screamed and bucked from the pain, his legs twitching in agony and his teeth grinding in his head.

Karras knelt down next to him, and laid his hand on the man's forehead. At his touch the Tarbaris quietened, and sobbed softly as Karras recited from memory the prayer for the dying. He felt hypocritical doing so, quoting a scripture in which he now had no faith, for a man for whom he felt only contempt. The man was weak and faithless, and his broken body proof of its vulnerability to arrows and the like. Karras though briefly of his thoughts of men controlling metal creations that would do their work for them, but then returned to the present.

Finally, when he had finished, he stood up and backed away. The Hammerites surrounding Tarbaris backed away also, and now the blood ran freely from the arrow wound. The doomed man was still now, his face pale and breathing laboured. The torturous sound of air in his lungs grew quieter until eventually his chest ceased to rise and fall. His eyes rolled up, and the man was dead.

Karras turned away in disgust at the body, and signalled several other Hammerites to pick him up and bury him. The Hammerite tombs that they had discovered were too worthy for this man, but he would stay there until they left, and could take his bones to the surface. Then, suddenly, an urgent thought occurred to him. He turned quickly to Wills, and said;

"Brother, hast thou disarmed the trap that didst strike poor Tarbaris to the ground?"

Wills gaped at the priest as if the thought had only just occurred to him. His mouth open and closed several times as his brain struggled to think of an excuse for his lack to do such an important thing. The man was saved by another Hammerite, one of the few mechanics, dressed in a dirty robe smeared with grime and mud.

"Yes Brother Karras, I didst make safe the trap after it didst spew forth its arrow to strike Brother Tarbaris. 'Twas but a footplate that didst trigger it, and I didst resolve the problem by applying a boulder to it. Thou mayest rest assured that it will trouble thee no more"

Karras looked at the speaker, whose deep voice he recognised. He instantly recognised the figure of Brother Gibson, a recent convert to the Order. Aware of Gibson's history, Karras restricted himself to only a nod, and then spun about on his heel to leave. He walked towards the main chamber so as to get back to his office, but then suddenly stopped as something caught his eye. It was a complicated assembly of parts, with a spring in the centre and several bolts and joints around it. Close by were several rocks, roughly spherical in shape, which looked the correct size to fit into the contraption. Karras stepped towards it in interest. He rarely had time enough to do any of his own inventing, the demands of this job trapping him to his desk all day. He had managed to make substantial improvements to his security cameras, but that was all. He reached out a hand to touch it.

"Stay thy hand Brother!" a voice shouted.

Karras jerked his hand away, and turned to see who would dare speak to him thus. He saw Brother Gibson running towards him in apparent consternations, and some of the other Hammerites frozen in shock. He was about to ignore demand a reason for Brother Gibson's conduct when the man spoke again. "I am sorry for mine rudness to thee, Brother Karras, but I do not wish to see thee hurt. This thing that thou dost see before thee is a new invention of mine, that I didst cunning develop from the traps that we hast been excavating here".

"Indeed?" said Karras, interested. "It dost not look like any that I have seen with mine eyes."

"Nor should it, Brother, for I do modestly claim that the Master Builder inspired me in mine work, and didst show me how to improve the traps here enormously. Dost thou see this spring? Thou dost? Good. If I load a stone such as this into the mouth of mine creation, and then dost press this lever."

Karras gasped in shock and amazement as the contraption jerked to life, and threw the stone, the size of his clenched fist, clear over to the other side of the room. The missile moved with incredible speed, and hit the wall with such force that chips of stone flew out from its point of impact. Karras turned to Gibson, his mind shocked by such a display of power and technology, and saw the satisfied face of the mechanic.

"Why, Brother Gibson, this.this.this..contraption canst have been made by thee! Only the Builder dost possess the skill to make such a wondrous machine!"

Gibson smiled with pride.

"Thou dost speak the truth, Brother Karras. The Master Builder didst guide me in my work, and while my hands didst place the pieces together, it was His will that directed the pieces to their proper location"

Karras nodded in understanding, and then went back to examining the machine, as Gibson fetched a new stone to put in it. He was fascinated by it, by its workings, by this thing that could throw a stone far further and much harder than any human arm. Humans were weak at throwing stones - this machine accomplished that and more besides, and with less effort. Karras was enamoured by it.

Then, suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by an unwanted intrusion. From down the stairs, being escorted by the Hammerite who was supposed to be guarding the entrance, was Lord Bafford. Karras's lip curled in annoyance and disgust. If he hated his brethren, he loathed and despised the parasitic aristocracy that grew rich off of the benefits the Order of the Hammer had given the City. They were vain, pretentious, and arrogant, and treated Karras with condescension unmatched even by the Master Forger, Garacon.

Karras waved for Gibson to back away, and then went to meet the Lord, who now stood waiting imperiously by an ancient sarcophagus. Unconsciously, he slipped into the speech patterns of an upper-class noble, which he found made these arrogant buffoons more susceptible to his subtle manoeuvring.

"Ah, good day to thee, my dear Lord Bafford. Might I ask how thou didst brush aside the security that I installed with mine own hands at the entrance to the Bonehaord?"

"I entered, Karras, because your security is as good as your promises. Your little mechanical eyes have no more brains than you!"

"Come come, my Lord. Might I enquire why thou dost curse me so? The Master Builder frowns upon those who soil their tongues with the language of the Trickster."

"Karras, you know that I care little for your Master Builder. With your Order in decline, with the Baron gone, and with the City Council in control, I now wield more power than you did when you visited me some time ago"

Karras paused here, worried about the turn that the conversation had taken. He could see that, surprisingly, Bafford was angry, and was too angry to try to conceal it. Normally the nobility, of which Bafford claimed to be a part, hid their feelings behind a cold mask of emotionlessness. Karras was apprehensive of the cause of the anger, and his eyes flicked over to where Brother Gibson had been. Bafford saw this movement, and followed it with his eyes. Karras spoke again, to draw Bafford's attention away from there.

"My dear Lord Bafford, I know not of what thou dost mean. Art thou referring to the matter a few months ago, when I didst take one of the Builder's accursed away from thee, and give thee in return my wondrous inventions?"

"Yes, Karras, I speak of that. You said that the man I caught stealing was a heretic, and that it was your duty to deal with him. I gave him to you in the expectation of a more severe punishment than those fools in the City Courts would afford to a mere thief belonging to a guild owned by Ramirez! I didn't do it for those cameras you gave me, which now protect where my sceptre used to be! And now what do I find? A contact has told me that you released this Gibson, and that he is now working for you!"

Karras shrank back from the man's anger, and made pacifying gestures with his hands. Bafford was livid, his face red, and spittle flew from his mouth as his tortured throat screamed at the priest.

"Lord Bafford, please, I beg of thee, give not was to thine destructive emotions. 'Tis true that the thief of which thou speakest works for me, but he is...he is.he is a test subject, yes, a test subject. For my new inventions."

"And you expect me to believe that, Karras? You really think I would fall for that? Do you think me an idiot? An imbecile? A taffer no cleverer than my guards?"

"Calm, please, Lord Bafford. Thou hast mine oath upon the matter. And thou hast more besides! Thou wilst have mine new security inventions, when they are completed and have been tested upon Gibson! Come, there is no need for us to end our agreement!"

"Very well, Karras! I will expect those delivered soon! Remember, you are no longer the patron, to crush me below your foot! Now I am the superior, and your squabbling Order will not be able to stand against me and the City Council."

"Yes, my Lord. As ever I obey"

Bafford, thus satisfied, spun about on his heal, and walked away. Karras stared with pure hatred at his retreat back. He clenched his fists desperately as a surge of adrenalin burst through him. His anger and hate at Bafford, at his ilk, at the world that had heaped shame and derision upon him threatened to overwhelm him. Tears of rage sprung to his eyes, and he ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. He did not even begin to calm until the sound of Bafford's shoes on the floor of the Bonehoard had disappeared. Karras was mad with rage, his dignity torn to shreds, and his soul keening for revenge against the arrogant lord. However, at this moment he could not do that. But there was one thing he could do.

He spun about and searched that crowd of Hammerites for a single man. They began to back away as they saw the expression on his faith, and their lack of backbone incensed Karras even more. His finger shot out, they flinched, and one man of them stopped dead. Karras beckoned at him, and the trembling man stepped forward.

"Ah, Brother Hammersmith. Wouldst thou do me the favour of placing thyself over here? Yes, just so. Come, come, why dost thou tremble so? The machine willst not fire without the control of a man, and 'tis mine hands upon the controls. Surely thou canst not have a reason to fear me?" Karras's voice was controlled, and icy, as if the rage had crystallized into a hard diamond. The Hammerite Karras had selected was standing directly in the path that a missile would take if released from Gibson's machine. Karras rested his hand lightly on the release mechanism, and spoke to Hammersmith as he did so:

"Now, Brother Hammersmith, I am sure that thou didst hear the words of Lord Bafford. While arrogant, and.heretical, he is also a most trustworthy gentleman. After all, he is a noble, and so thou wouldst expect no less. And so, when he dost tell me that he hast a contact within the Order, who didst tell him of the matter of Gibson, I believe him.

I see thou tremblest when I do speak. Dost thou fear me? What cause hast thou given me to threaten thee so? As I wast relating, this contact didst inform Bafford of the matter of Gibson. Bafford is a wealthy man, despite the loss of his sceptre from his Town House. An ambitious person wouldst surely wish to gain his patronage, especially when the patron hast so much power over our Brethren. Art thou an ambitious man, Hammersmith? Thou dost wish to study for the priesthood, thou dost want the trappings of mine office. And thou hast little love for Brother Gibson. Look not so surprised, Brother Hammersmith - I hast eyes to see, and despite the words of thine patron, Bafford, my brain ist superior to those of mine machines.

And why dost thou look so shocked at my words, Brother? Art thou shocked that I didst dare to accuse thee of corruption, or that I didst discover the matter. Look not wildly round for help, Hammersmith! Thou art in charge of the security, and thou didst let Bafford through to confront me! Thou wishest for mine office, mine robes! Thou knowest that if I fall thine star shall rise! Thou art a traitor, thou art a wretch, thou art an accomplice of the Trickster, and thou dost seek to sabotage the work of the Master Builder! Well, thou canst! See what thou hast rejected through thine hereticism, and see the power of the Master Builder!"

Karras had been becoming increasingly angry, and his voice rose in rage as the pathetic figure of Hammersmith cowered before him, as Karras had done before Bafford. The priest's arm, and clenched fist, repeatedly crashed down upon the table, and Karras was uncaring of the blood that tricked from it. His voice now screamed rage and hate, and with a final smash of his arm upon the table he brought his hand down on the lever of the machine.

The machine spat forth its load, a ball of stone that shot with incredible speed to impact in Hammersmith's stomach. The ball hit the chain-mail there with a clang, broke through it to enter the stomach. It smahed skin and muscle and organs as it travelled, before being arrested in its flight by the chain-mail at the back of Hammersmith's clothes. The stone snapped the spine and destroyed in internal organs, and the Hammerite toppled to the ground as blood spewed forth from his mouth and stomach. He twitched weakly as his mouth screamed silent agony, and then after a final convulsion he was still.

Karras looked at the man, his anger sated but still there. He thought of the weakness of the flesh, of the mind, of the dedication to the Builder's teachings. Of how frail and susceptible the body was to stones and arrows, of how frail the mind was, and how susceptible to dishonesty and heresy. He though of what he had been considering before, of the suits of metal to protect men's bodies. Now he wondered if there was a way to protect a man's mind from the teachings of the Trickster.

He turned, and looked at the crowd of Hammerites. They stared back at him, terrified by this display of power. He thought of how weak they were, how they and their former taskmaster had yielded before the Builder's gifts, and how the machine of iron and brass had taken a flawed life so easily. He waved his hand and they left, running to get away from him. Karras returned to his office more slowly, thinking of the revelation he had had, and still livid with his treatment at the hands of Lord Bafford.

And blood still dripped from the dead Hammersmith's mouth onto the uncaring floor.