Inside the communal building, half the tarps were down, and Isaac and a couple of other guys were busy pulling down the rest of them to make the space available. Lane could tell from faint outlines on the ground where the four giants had lain hidden.

Andrew walked straight over towards Isaac, who grinned at them. “Well, what do ye think of our golems?”

“What’s a golem?” Andrew asked back.

Isaac paused. “Uh, clay-men? Really tall? Four just walked out of here?”

“Funny,” Andrew said. “I did see them. I’d like to know how they’re made. And what are they made of?”

“They’re made of clay,” Isaac repeated. He scratched his head. “Can’t tell you much beyond that,” he said. “I just helped dig up the loam.” He stamped his foot onto the wooden flooring, which had a decidedly hollow ring here. “We found the clay right underneath,” Isaac went on, “dug it up and made the figures. Took ages, I can tell ye.”

“And then Mr. Kohen enchanted them?” Lane asked.

Isaac looked at her uneasily. “No,” he said. “They aren’t enchanted.”

“Then how do they move?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t know,” Isaac said. “I’m serious. Ye’re talking to the one guy in this whole crew who can’t even read. Ye gonna have to ask Eyal or Mr. Kohen about the tricky bits.”

He paused and added: “I don’t think there’s any magic to it, though. That would be daft, wouldn’t it? To feed the Rot more magic?”

“Suitable strong magic can keep the Rot away,” Lane replied. “Or a younger werewolf, for that matter.”

“See, I didn’t know that,” Isaac said. Someone called his name. “Look, I gotta get back to work.”

The other men had finished taking down the tarps without him, but now it looked like they were trying to close and secure the huge doors that had allowed the golems to leave.

“I’m guessing it was a ritual,” Andrew said when Isaac was out of earshot. “A religious ritual. And they don’t want to talk about it because you’re Valoisian.”

Lane crossed her arms in front of her chest but nodded. She had never heard of a ritual as powerful as this. There was a reason why so many priests of Mithras were mage-priests. If you wanted fast, flashy results, you used magic. If you wanted to save a soul, you used a ritual.

Except. Bishop Larsson had walked through flame, protected by his faith alone, hadn’t he?

“Come on,” Andrew said. “Let’s get up to a window.”

Lane had spotted the movement outside as well, right before Isaac and the other men managed to pull the large door closed: Something had scaled the camp’s walls.

By the time they had secured a spot in front of one of the windows, a whole host of creepers had climbed the walls and chased after the last of the guards. Even in their hurry, the soldiers still gave the golems a wide berth.

The four giants swatted at the Rot-creatures that followed the men with their huge hands, or simply stepped on them. They were deceptively quick, despite their size, and few creepers managed to get out of the way in time.

But there were only four of them and an army of the Rot.

The first Rot-brute just forced its way through the main gate of the camp. It ignored the last of the running men, and charged straight at the golem closest to it.

Lane raised her eyebrows when the golem met the attack head-on, ripping the monster apart without apparent effort. The onlookers at the windows cheered.

“Makes you wonder why we even bother with the werewolves,” someone muttered not far away. Lane had just thought the same thing: This might be trouble later on.

“Werewolves don’t take months to build,” another worker answered.

“Sure they do. It takes four months to find out if they’re gonna be safe.”

“A werewolf still can protect people in a pinch earlier, like some did at Oldstone Castle. And the golems don’t heal. A werewolf gets stronger with every fight they survive. The golems just get damaged.”

“Guess that is a drawback.”

“Gavrel, wasn’t it?” Andrew inserted himself into their conversation. “Do you know how those were woken?”

The worker who had defended the werewolves shrugged. “Mr. Kohen has been working on them ever since Ragna left. That’s all I can tell you.”

All he could tell them, or all he would tell them? Lane wondered. But she didn’t follow Andrew as he walked over to look out of the same window as Gavrel. Lane only listened with half an ear as the two talked, turning back to her own window. She couldn’t see any more humans out there – or rather, no more living humans. A few people lay up on the parapet or the ground, already perfectly still, Rot-creatures perched around them. Lane felt a sudden cold at the sight.

More and more creepers and brutes flooded the camp proper. Would the people who had fled to the pub be safe? It had its own silver protections, but the Rot-creatures just kept coming. The golems were forced to draw their circle closer around the building where they had been created, to stop the creepers from getting to it. The brutes were still throwing themselves fruitlessly against the hulking giants. Lane couldn’t see any damage to them yet.

“Strange, that we can’t feel anything, don’t you think?” Andrew noted. “Not even a whiff of the usual stink.”

“No Rot has reached this house yet,” Lane pointed out. “If these windows crack, I’m sure we’ll all feel it right away.”

“Any sign of what’s driven all these creepers to attack in broad daylight?” Gavrel asked.

“No, but I’m sure that Nathan is going to owe me some silver,” Andrew said. “He better get his arse back here and pay up.”

Lane managed to force a smile, while Andrew had to explain how Nathan had bet on a dragon. It seemed like ages ago.

Watching the nearest golem swat the creepers like flies was hypnotic itself. It moved so fast, Lane sometimes barely saw it as it chased up and down her side of the building. The other three were probably doing the same on the other sides.

A commotion inside the building made Lane turn her back on the window. Rhuad and Anthony were struggling against a group of navvies that were blocking them from opening the door.

“What the hell?” Lane muttered.

Andrew was already hurrying over towards and down the ladder. Lane followed a little slower – she wasn’t sure what was going on, and she didn’t know how to help, either. She could hardly shoot the two werewolves, could she?

But why were they trying to leave, now of all times?

Andrew got there just in time to lock both arms around Rhuad’s upper body, restraining the werewolf just as he reached the door. Navvies had grabbed Anthony, but Rhuad’s hands looked more like claws and there was fur sprouting on his face, too, enough to make most people back up. Lane hesitated, too.

“What is wrong with you!” Andrew demanded, but Rhuad just growled something unintelligible at him.

“Right. Fine. Be that way!”

Lane saw Andrew actually lift the werewolf off his feet and then smash him, face first, into the doorframe. Lane was fairly sure that she could hear the werewolf’s nose break. Andrew jerked him upright again when he staggered.

“Are you going to be reasonable now?”

Rhuad’s head bobbed somewhat limply, but his claws turned back to fingers and the fur vanished from his face, too. He moaned softly.

“Hey, Rhuad!” Andrew yelled into his ear. “Talk to me!”

Rhuad blinked, still looking dazed. “Ouch,” was all he said, but it was a word, not a mindless growl.

“I’ll let you go now, all right?”

“Quit yelling in my ear,” Rhuad complained and then almost fell down when Andrew let go abruptly.

“You tried to open the door,” Andrew pointed out, pulling him up by one arm. Blood was running down Rhuad’s face.

“Bullshit. The Rot’s out there.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m yelling at you,” Andrew said calmly.

Rhuad felt at his nose. “Did you punch me, too?”

“Smashed you into the wall,” a navvy explained helpfully.

“It was that or poke you with my silver knife,” Andrew said.

Rhuad stared at him. “Yeah. Thanks for using the wall first, I guess. I really tried to open the door?”

“You and Anthony both. And you nearly turned on us, too.”

“Guess we know what happened to Oli,” Rhuad muttered, probing his nose again. “Do we have any ropes? I’d rather not get my face smashed in a second time.”

Lane needed a second to catch his meaning. Andrew was a little quicker. “You want us to tie you up?”

“Better than having my face carved in, isn’t it? Just let me –”

The werewolf started taking off his clothes, which made some workers turn away while others cat-called ironically. Lane turned her back on the naked man. A moment later she heard him stagger around while he transformed and then turned human again.

A navvy was already bringing ropes.

“Is anyone still watching the windows?” Andrew asked while he tied Rhuad to one of the support beams holding up the ceiling. Even though this had been his idea, the werewolf was struggling against him again, and the navvies standing around were clearly wary to help.

Lane looked up to check if anyone was still keeping an eye on what was going on outside, and spotted Audenne. She had almost forgotten about the professor. He had pulled his sketch-pad out and was scribbling like mad. The only interesting things out there were the Rot creatures or the golems, so Lane could only assume he was drawing those.

Lane heard a sound that made her think of teeth snapping shut behind herself, and as she turned around, Andrew cursed. Rhuad’s whole face was shifting and he was trying to bite Andrew.

“Your necklace, Lane,” Andrew said, fighting to hold onto Rhuad without getting bitten. “Put your damn necklace around his neck. Quick!”

Lane fumbled for the clasp, nearly ripping the thin, silver band that held the sign of Mithras.

“You know that the Sign of the Sun doesn’t actually repel werewolves, right?” she asked nervously as she tried to get the flimsy chain around Rhuad’s neck.

The werewolf stopped fighting before she even managed to close the clasp. Instead, Rhuad made a high, keening sound, no more human than his growling before.

“Take it off,” Anthony whispered next to them. “Take it off!” he repeated louder. “You have to take it off!”

“I can’t do that,” Andrew replied calmly. “If we had a cage, we could put him in there, but we don’t. And if he bites someone, or worse, kills someone in here, it might be his death, too. I won’t put silver on you unless you start attacking us as well. That’s the best I can offer you.”

Anthony opened his mouth as if to argue, but then his eyes found Lane and he ducked his head instead. “Fine,” he muttered. He let Andrew tie him to the next support beam without resistance.

Andrew still turned to one of the navvies watching on. “Tell Eyal or Digger that we need another silver chain or necklace if they have. Just in case.”

He very carefully put a hand to Rhuad’s neck as if he was feeling for a pulse, despite the fact that the werewolf was still whimpering softly. The skin was already red and blistering where the metal touched it.

“Does anyone have a scarf?” Andrew asked loudly into the room.