'The Guardians card, something about the stonework on the bridge. Then those last two, the skulls – I got a damned good look at Faradan Sort' s medal. So's I could sew the like, you see.'

There was a long, long silence.

And Bottle stared, unseeing, as implications settled in his mind – settled momentarily, then burst up and out, like dust-devils, one after another. The Adjunct wants that Deck of Dragons in Fiddler's hands. And either she or T'amber – or maybe Nether and Nil, or someone – is boiling over with arcane knowledge, and isn't afraid to use it.

Now, Fid, he never lays a field with those cards. No. He makes up games.

The Adjunct knows something. Just like she knew about the ghosts at Raraku… and the flood. But she carries an otataral sword. And the two Wickans are nothing like they once were, or so goes the consensus.

It must be T'amber.

What awaits us?

Is this what's got Quick Ben and the others so rattled?

What if'Something just nudged my foot – what? Is that a rat? Right under our table?'

'Ain't no rats on the Silanda, Stormy-'

'I'm telling you, Ges – there!'

Fiddler swore, then said, 'That's Bottle's rat! Get it!'

'After it!'

Skidding chairs, the crash of crockery, grunts and stamping boots.

'It's getting away!'

There were so many places, Bottle knew, on a ship, where only a rat could go. Y'Ghatan made her escape, despite all the cursing and thumping.

Moments later, Bottle saw Fiddler appear on deck amidships – the soldier looked away a moment before the sergeant's searching gaze found him, and Bottle listened – staring out to sea – as the man, pushing past lounging soldiers, approached.

Thump thump thump up the steps to the foredeck.

'Bottle!'

Blinking, he looked over. 'Sergeant?'

'Oh no I ain't fooled – you was spying! Listening in!'

Bottle gestured over at Koryk and Tarr, who had looked up from their game and were now staring. 'Ask them. I've been sitting here, not doing a thing, for more than a bell. Ask them.'

'Your rat!'

'Her? I lost track of her last night, Sergeant. Haven't bothered trying to hunt her down since – what would be the point? She's not going anywhere, not with her pups to take care of.'

Gesler, Stormy and Balm were now crowding up behind Fiddler, who looked ready to rip off his own stubbly beard in frustration. 'If you' re lying…' Fiddler hissed.

'Of course he's lying,' Balm said. 'If I was him, I'd be lying right now, too.'

'Well, Sergeant Balm,' Bottle said, 'you're not me, and that is the crucial difference. Because I happen to be telling the truth.'

With a snarl, Fiddler turned round and pushed his way back down to the mid deck. A moment later the others followed, Balm casting one last glare at Bottle – as if only now comprehending that he'd just been insulted.

A low snort from Koryk after they'd left. 'Bottle, I happened to glance up a while back – before Fiddler came out – and, Hood take me, there must have been fifty expressions crossing your face, one after the other.'

'Really?' Bottle asked mildly. 'Probably clouds passing the sun, Koryk.'

Tarr said, 'Your rat still has those pups? You must've carried them on the march, then. If I'd been the one carrying them, I would've eaten them one by one. Pop into the mouth, crunch, chew. Sweet and delicious.'

'Well, it was me, not you, wasn't it? Why does everyone want to be me, anyway?'

'We don't,' Tarr said, returning to study the game. 'We're just all trying to tell you we think you're a raving idiot, Bottle.'

Bottle grunted. 'All right. Then, I suppose, you two aren't interested in what they were talking about in that cabin just a little while ago.'

'Get over here,' Koryk said in a growl. 'Watch us play, and start talking, Bottle, else we go and tell the sergeant.'

'No thanks,' Bottle said, stretching his arms. 'I think I'm in need of a nap. Maybe later. Besides, that game bores me.'

'You think we won't tell Fiddler?'

'Of course you won't.'

'Why not?'

'Because then this would be the last time – the last time ever – you got any inside information from me.'

'You lying, snivelling, snake of a bastard-'

'Now now,' Bottle said, 'be nice.'

'You're getting worse than Smiles,' Koryk said.