Divinations cast, the auguries done, Questions asked and half answers won. Map knifed in ink, Clerk’s Ward marked on, Half of the truth found, the rest still gone. Necklace kept quiet, the wand close, clear, Spider in my sleeve - we take it from here. Pillars of slate with a thousand tongues, They spell the turn that drags us on. Letters like doors in the Clerk’s Ward throng - Follow the script - the way forward’s drawn. Three bells past midnight, meet me where the waters died, Lady’s shoes still standing where the rust won’t hide. We march to the Slags - where even law won’t tread, Find the broken fountain - where her iron feet bled. Clerk’s Ward calm like a held-back cough, Counters of order shaving truth to the froth. Justice in lenses listened stone-still, Measured my breath, priced my will. Runner with horns and a sealed demand, Drew me a map like a scar on my hand. Shadow that lingers where fountains went dry, Coins for the silence, iron for the lie. Three bells past midnight, meet me where the waters died, Lady’s shoes still standing where the rust won’t hide. We march to the Slags - where even law won’t tread, Find the broken fountain - where her iron feet bled. (solo) They sent the sellsword first, legs like trees to root, Arms like hammers, every motion brute. Skin brown-black, tusks yellow-white and mean, Scars run like rivers over muscle keen. Eyes like black pits, cold, depthless, grim - Violence waits quiet, coiled inside him. Then came the D’Khan, born under stone, Obsidian skin - flawless, knife-honed. Violet eyes weighing cost from the start, White hair like frost on a blackened heart. Solon keeps sigils - quiet and cruel, Solan keeps prayers - colder than rule. Nimble and measured, they move as one, If talk grows thin - their blades get sung. Call: Who keeps the keys? The ones who count. Who holds the writ? The Fraternity’s account. What buys the truth? Blood, oath, and skin. Where waits the trade? Where the water’s gone thin. Write the name - it cuts both ways going in. Clap once for the secret kept, Stomp twice for the debt you wept, Clap thrice when the trail turns right, Stomp four when the Slags show bite. (solo) Three bells past midnight, meet me where the waters died, Lady’s shoes still standing where the rust won’t hide. We march to the Slags - where even law won’t tread, Find the broken fountain - where her iron feet bled. Three bells past midnight, meet me where the waters died, Lady’s shoes still standing where the rust won’t hide. We march to the Slags - where even law won’t tread, Find the broken fountain - where her iron feet bled. Four move as one - keys paid in blood. Doors upon doors - we pick the flood. Rust at her shoes - no prayers, no sun. Third bell bites - we take him and run.
