The Northman himself was something of a puzzle. When Jezal had first laid eyes on him, gawping at the gate of the Agriont, he had seemed less than an animal. Out here in the wild, though, the rules were different. One could not simply walk away from a man one disliked, then do one's best to avoid him, belittle him in company, and insult him behind his back. Out here you were stuck with the companions you had, and, being stuck with him, Jezal had come slowly to realise that Ninefingers was just a man, after all. A stupid, and a thuggish, and a hideously ugly one, no doubt. As far as wit and culture went, he was a cut below the lowliest peasant in the fields of the Union, but Jezal had to admit that out of all the group, the Northman was the one he had come to hate least. He had not the pomposity of Bayaz, the watchfulness of Quai, the boastfulness of Longfoot, or the simple viciousness of Ferro. Jezal would not have been ashamed to ask a farmer his opinion on the raising of crops, or a smith his opinion on the making of armour, however dirty, ugly or lowborn they might have been. Why not consult a hardened killer on the subject of violence?

'I understand that you have led men in battle,' Jezal tried as his opening.

The Northman turned his dark, slow eyes on him. 'More than once.'

'And fought in duels.'

'Aye.' He scratched at the ragged scars on his stubbly cheek. 'I didn't come to look like this from a wobbly hand at shaving.'

'If your hand was that wobbly, you would choose, perhaps, to grow a beard.'

Ninefingers chuckled. Jezal was almost used to the sight now. It was still hideous, of course, but smacked more of good-natured ape than crazed murderer. 'I might at that,' he said.

Jezal thought about it a moment. He did not wish to make himself appear weak, but honesty might earn the trust of a simple man. If it worked with dogs, why not with Northmen? 'I myself,' he ventured, 'have never fought in a full-blooded battle.'

'You don't say?'

'No, truly. My friends are in Angland now, fighting against Bethod and his savages.' Ninefingers' eyes swivelled sideways. 'I mean… that is to say… fighting against Bethod. I would be with them myself, had not Bayaz asked me to come on this… venture.'

'Their loss is our gain.'

Jezal looked sharply across. From a subtler source, that might almost have sounded like sarcasm. 'Bethod started this war, of course. A most dishonourable act of unprovoked aggression on his part.'

'You'll get no argument from me on that score. Bethod's got a gift when it comes to starting wars. The only thing he's better at is the finishing of 'em.'