Craven's torch gnawed substance from the darkness waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, revealing the crusty surface of a pool of muck. Echser's heart sank right down to the soles of his boots. Of course, the filth from the sewer had flooded this part of the catacombs as well. Everything else would have been too easy, not disgusting enough.

Worse still, Craven stepped right into it.

There was no hesitation, no pause to give Echser a slither of hope that the lich killer would do the sensible thing and abandon this whole nightmare. Adding insult to injury, the muck down here was even more disgusting than the one in the canalization. At least the sewage there was going somewhere. This stuff did not – and had not for a very long time. As Craven's boots stepped into it, the brown scum on top broke like a thin sheen of ice, and noxious vapor puffed up.

Science safe me...

Echser gagged as Craven took another step, then another, the filth soon reaching to the middle of his thighs. He lifted his lamp high, revealing more of their surroundings. Echser had once studied illustrations of underground canals running below the most ancient cities of the Scarred Empire, depicting vaulted ceilings and wide pillars connecting grand arches. What he now saw looked very much like it, only infinitely more disgusting. The crypt was homage to destruction and decay; massive sarcophagi, their huge lids lying askew, loomed from the sea of filth like blocky islands. The air was thick and steamy, small clouds of black insects bursting forth as Craven strode forwards, a small crossbow in his right hand.

The sight of the weapon did little to reassure Echser.

"Mendra protect us," Hornbach whispered under his breath, then stepped into the filth, apparently somewhat inured by his former exposure to the sewage.

Echser swallowed his bile rising. He stared at the vileness, sweat pouring down his face, eyes bulging. He couldn't step into that! It was inconceivable! Impossible. No doubt this... this goo was not only disgusting but deadly too! A venerable sea of disease! Who knew what infections waited down there? A nick from some old submerged weapon or some such and his skin might start to rot. If he fell and got it into his eyes, he might go blind. He, Science's greatest gift to the world since... since forever, blind!

Worse still, he could use his life. His life!

Stefan leaned down to Echser, whispering, "Erm, about those two gold... Does your offer still stand?"

Hope flared up in Echser's chest. "Yes!"

Stefan looked past him, judging the distance he would have to carry him. It didn't seem that much, hardly worth the price of one silver now that Echser thought about it. Craven was already halfway through the mire, its end marked by the light of his lamp.

Stefan nodded to himself. "Five gold, then I'll do it."

Echser just managed to suppress a gasp. Five gold!? He was positively stunned. A man of Stefan's low station probably would not even earn that much money in months of hard labor. The outrage! The audacity! How dare this scoundrel take such advantage of him? It was indecent! That's what it was. Indecent! Then the alchemist looked at the muck lapping at the stairs again and swallowed hard. "I... I don't have that kind of money."

"How much do you have?"

Echser pulled out his coin pouch. "Mmm-maybe I have a few coppers mo—"

Stefan snatched the purse from his fingers. "That will do." Cramming the pouch into his britches, he stepped past Echser and into the filth, presenting his back. "Hop on."

Echser stared at the opportunistic villain before him. Could he have been that wrong regarding the character of this fellow? Rarely had he ever wished to stab a man, but now he did. Ten! There had been at least ten gold pieces in that pouch, and who knew how much silver and copper. A fortune. His fortune!

The miserable little...

Echser had half a mind kicking the thief into his back but ended up climbing meekly onto it, seething with impotent rage. At least Stefan's surprised grunt was rather satisfying – Echser was by far not as heavy as he had been, but he still was quite tall.

"You're... heavier than you look," Stefan hissed, taking a step, then another.

"I would have been even heavier with my coin pouch, no doubt."

Ahh, sweet petty victories...

They advanced slowly and with scant dignity, Echser's arms and legs wrapped around Stefan like the limbs of some confused lover. The alchemist hardly dared to breathe, blood pounding against the inside of his temples with every frantic beat of his heart.

Thump-Thump-Thump...

It didn't help that Craven and Hornbach, both on dry ground again, followed their approach with queer grins on their faces. The bastards... Probably they would roll on the floor laughing, happy as pigs in the muck, if Stefan managed to drop Echser.

Yes, that would be so funny, wouldn't it you—

Craven, still having that infuriating smile on his face, raised his pistol crossbow at them and – Click!

Echser gasped. Stefan twitched.

Did he shot him? The lunatic actually shot him!

Then Echser saw it. No three steps away, there was a head, a horrid nightmare of a head with a teeth-studded lamprey-mouth. An equally hideous tongue, thick as a rope, twitched inside that maw, reminding Echser very much of a snake about to strike. It probably would have already, if not for the metal crossbow bolt that loomed right between the creature's beady black eyes.

Ghoul...

The word pounded through Echser's skull. He half expected the thing to burst from the filth, mortal wound or not, but nothing happened. It just sank into the slimy embrace of the muck that might very easily have become their grave.

The horror, the horror...

Somehow, they made it. Echser hardly noticed it, but suddenly he was standing on firm dry ground again, Craven smiling at him while he reloaded his crossbow. "Like I told you: Here, there be monsters..."