Thanquol paced. The plan was not going well. Surely, thought Thanquol, he was the most potent of mage-rats, the most exalted of the Council's agents. Why, then, did the Lords of Decay keep sending him inferiors to work with? Warlord Skrich of Clan Krik had jeopardised the task of destroying Citadelle La Bouef. True, Thanquol had promised the drawbridges would be down, but that had been the fault of those worthless Gutter Runners. Yes, the poison Thanquol had bought for them turned out to be so watered down as to be safely drinkable, but he had saved many warptokens. Thanquol gnawed his pale, rubbery tail, recalling how the Duke had counter-attacked, sending the Clanrats fleeing. The fool Assassin should have already slain that manling! Of course, Thanquol had reassigned the Assassin to kill several upstart Skaven in his own ranks, a mission from which the Clan Eshin agent had never returned. Such failures could only be devious sabotage! But who, thought Thanquol, would dare match wits with so mighty a personage as himself? The hidden foe must be dangerous indeed.