Prologue

  42nd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden EraHarbour Town, Harbour Isle, the Sapphire O

  "This way, sir, to the dead. Though as I said via our correspondehe dead are slim-pigs at the moment," Plowthorn said. The man ortly sort of fellow, with a jovial smile and a rexed, almost zy gait. The spark in his eyes had long since dulled, but this was Harbour Toeople with anything approag ambition usually used it to leave the isle entirely.

  "That's fine. I assume that the Wyrm cil took the subjects that remained?" Magus Maldrak Hollowspine asked. He smiled, showing off teeth that were straight and true, and white besides. Behind him, his attendants--two young men in dark, featureless robes--looked on impassively.

  Mister Plowthorn nodded. "Oh, yes. You missed most of the good ones, I'm afraid. Though if you wish, I could set aside some of the more iing spes for you. For a small nominal fee. Nothing egregious, of course."

  "Of course," the Magus replied.

  They were on the wharf, though that wasn't saying very much. Harbour Town, as the name implied, was mostly made up of wharfs, docks, piers and even a few jetties, though the st were still under stru.

  Ten years ago, this town was a small space, occupied by a vilge of a hundred and ruled over by a lesser baron barely worthy of the title. Now it housed ten thousand, and twice as many people passed through every moon.

  War galleons and shipping vessels were moving about over the waters even now, and the pce was as busy as it had even been.

  "Right this way, sir Magus," Plowthorn said. There was a small business, just off of a narrow pier and built on sturdy stilts above the coast. A barn, of sorts. A freshly painted sighe door hi its usage. Plowthorn and Son's Bodies and Seaside Salvage.

  Plowthorn pulled out a piece of cloth from a pocket and ed it around his head. "Ah, does milord wish a handkerchief as well? The stench is... well, quite predictable."

  "No, I'll be well," he replied. "This won't be my first meeting with the dead." A flick of his fingers and there was a shift in the wind around them, enough to make the edges of the magus' long bck robes flutter.

  The portly man bobbed his head, g the two servants with the magus, then dismissed them from his thoughts as he ehe location of his business.

  The barn was a detly rge warehouse of a building. There was a small office space to one end, with a rge window overlooking the sea. Beyond, the main room was filled with long racks. These were as deep as a man was tall and built to house long wooden sbs. The air within the room was chilly, a mixture of clever architecture with air cirg in from sts in the roof, and cooled by several rge stones held up on plinths. These were covered in a thin yer of frost, and the plinths below were desigo carry the densation runoff out and towards a waiting bucket.

  The drip from the magical cooling devices tapping into the nearly-full buckets was the only noise in the room, at least until Plowthorn spoke up. "Boy!" he so a young may the buckets! And thehe others to help. We've got a er here."

  There was rapid movement as the boy iion hopped to his work. Soon the buckets were emptied and the occupied sbs slotted into the wall-mounted racks were pulled out.

  "Only three?" the Magus asked.

  "Only three at the moment, good sir," Plowthorn said. "And I'm afraid these three are the ohat the Wyrm cil had no i in."

  The Magus frowned, delicate brows meeting together, but he didn't dismiss the man ht. "Well, let's see, shall we?"

  The occupied sbs were moved onto a small wheelbarrow-like cart designed for the purpose, and all three were brought to the far end of the room where the lighting was better and where several garnds of strong herbs hung from the ceiling.

  The corpses were naked and bloated. Skin blued by water, and purpled by necrosis. The Magus sed them all. "No missing limbs," he said. "Some amount of rot. These aren't the freshest, but nothing unusable. Why were these rejected?"

  Plowthestured towards the bodies. "Women," he replied. "The Wyrm cil will rarely make an exception for that sort of thing."

  "Ah," the Magus replied. "I suppose I should t myself lucky, then."

  "Indeed, sir Magus. Just a month ago the Wyrm cil would have cleared out my entire iory, regardless of gender and missing limbs," Mister Plowthorn said. "Now they're being a lot more careful about their choices. It won't st."

  "It won't?" the Magus asked. "How would you know?"

  Plowthorn adjusted the fit of his handkerchief and gave the Magus a long look. "You've only been on the isle for a few days, yes?"

  "My ship arrived a fht ago," Maldrak replied. The information wasn't fidential. His ship, the Geidings, was moored nearby still. He and his servants and aides had been the only ones aboard, other than the crew, of course. For the moment he was residing in an acquaintance's estate further innd. A newer stru, as most on this isnd were.

  "I see, I see. Then you haven't seen the number of corpses that have gone past. The Wyrms have been bringing them in by the cartload and shipping just as many out. I've been able to make a respectable business just pig them off the sea and along the coasts. A number of them have the marks that the Wyrms p every body."

  "They don't mind you reselling them their own stock?"

  "I give them a dist," Plowthorn said with a dark chuckle. "Ah, but that's aopic for aime. It's been happening in waves, you see. The Wyrm creates an army and sends it out, then a month ter it isn't enough and more o be bought and shipped to the mainnd. Again and again. And they're not the only ones with an i. It's a tidy business. In any case, sir, I wonder if these three will be suitable for you? Otherwise, I mark out any ining bodies for your use, for a small fee."

  The Magus hummed, theured to one of his assistants. The young man caught on immediately and reached into a pouch by his hip to retrieve a small leather roll filled with implements. Knives and spoons and the tools of an embalmer.

  He ied each body oer the other, heedless of any odours or the like. The first was a younger woman, one uo manual bour, judging by the dition of her hands. Fxen-haired and fair of skin, at least before it was discoloured by death.

  The was taller and even slimmer. Her skin was the darker hue of someone from the Northern kingdoms. She was well-muscled, though he could tell little about her otherwise. The corpse was the most beaten and aged.

  The st was rger, better muscled. The kind of build he would have expected to see on a farmhand, or a hardy, well-fed and well-worked peasant.

  "These will do, I suppose," he replied.

  "Ah, you don't mind the state of them?" Plowthorn asked.

  "When I'm dohat will hardly matter," he said before turning to his men. "Take these three to the docks. We'll bring them aboard the Geidings. Mister Plowthorn, I imagihat you don't mind speaking to my associate here with regards to the matter of price."

  "Of course not, milord," Plowthorn replied with a quick bow. "I've been hoo be able to help you. Though... will you be remaining on Harbour Isle for long?"

  "No, not very," the Magus said. "My business is on the mainnd, though I worry about setting foot upon it."

  "Aye," Plowthorn said. He cleared his throat, as though realizing that he'd spoken like a an rather than the businessmaried to appear as. "It's bad news, setting foot on the mainnd. Best to keep to the shore at most. The madness is still running rampant, and there's tales that even the est seeming ke is tainted by dragon's blood. Ah, but the riches! It's driving many to push past the risks, isn't it?"

  "I'm not so keen on the riches," the Magus replied. "But rather... I have a burning desire to discover what led to the madness and the fall of aire civilisation. Some would say the greatest that ever was. And... I had a few panions that were living on the mainnd. I'd like to know what happeo them."

  "Ah well, good luck with your ventures, sir Magus. I wish you the best fortune. And when you need more bodies, you know where to e."

  t Magus Montgomery Maldrak, mage of the First Order, schor of the Avaris Myra Academy, Grand-Master puppeteer, and very curious gentleman, looked upohree bodies he'd just purchased. These would be his key to unc why the great nation of Draya Calyrex had fallen.

  ***