Another scream, from somewhere above him this time. The rooftops?
Bijaz looked up in time to see a pair of legs drop to the street in front of him as a pattering rain began. Nothing else — the shattered, shorn bone gleamed white in hissing light from a gas lamp at the corner ahead, though no blood ran from then.
The blood, in fact, was what was raining down.
A numinous attack! Like the burning trees, and monster worms tunneling out of wellheads, and all the other horrors which had stalked the city recently.
He began to run, searching for cover. Bijaz would bet brass against gold the legs belonged to one of his watchers. Whatever rampaged would have no brief for him or the dwarf pit, but that would make no difference either if it caught him. As he careened past the gas lamp, his boots slipping on blood slicked cobbles, Bijaz glanced up to see ghostly teeth leering down at him from a mouth big as a beer wagon.