The warehouse roof was even more dilapidated than Renato had expected. Years of soaking rain had left the straw covering it rotten, foul-smelling, and black.
An irregular hole had collapsed in the center of the roof. The tarpaulin and old boards around its edges had peeled back at one corner, offering a clear view of the entire warehouse below.
Renato carefully lay down at the edge of the hole, keeping his weight low and making as little noise as possible as he peered through the gap.
Dark red blood and severed limbs covered the floor at the center of the warehouse. The dismembered remains of more than a dozen bodies had been deliberately arranged in a radiating pattern.
Seven bare-chested pirates knelt around the pattern, praying in a disorderly chorus. They had smeared foul-smelling blood over their skin. Some even scraped at the floor with their nails, scooping blood from the pools onto themselves.
At the very center of the pattern, a broad-bodied man slowly rose from among the mutilated corpses and pools of blood.
Thick folds of fat piled around his waist and belly, and sweat and blood stained his bald head. Layers of overlapping scars crisscrossed his skin, some an old, dark purple, others still pink from recent healing.
The fat man lying in the blood was probably Santos, the "Old Whale" Pye had mentioned.
Despite the Bhaal worshippers conducting their ritual below with their guard completely down, Renato did not rush to attack. He remained in the shadows of the roof, waiting quietly.
The ritual continued below. Santos took a cast-iron helmet from a pirate beside him and put it on, then lifted a skull-decorated two-handed club with one hand and rested its shaft on his shoulder. He then grabbed a pirate attendant by the neck and