Lord Marshal Burr was poring over a table covered in crumpled maps as West pushed through the flap into his tent. It seemed in the lamplight that the pressures of command had taken their toll on him. He looked older, paler, weaker, his hair and beard wild and straggling. He had lost weight and his creased uniform hung loose, but he started up with all his old vigour.

'Colonel West, as I live and breathe! I never thought to see you again!' He seized West's hand and squeezed it hard. 'I'm glad you made it. Damn glad! I've missed your cool head around here, I don't mind telling you.' He stared searchingly into West's eyes. 'You look tired, though, my friend.'

There was no denying it. West had never been the prettiest fellow in the Agriont, that he knew, but he had always prided himself on having an honest, friendly, pleasant look. He had scarcely recognised the face in the mirror once he had taken his first bath in weeks, dragged on a borrowed uniform, and finally shaved. Everything was changed, sharpened, leached of colour. The prominent cheekbones had grown craggy, the thinning hair and brows were full of iron grey, the jaw was lean and wolf-like. Angry lines were cut deep into the skin down the pale cheeks, across the narrow bridge of the sharp nose, out from the corners of the eyes. The eyes were worst of all. Narrow. Hungry. Icy grey, as though the bitter cold had eaten into his skull and still lurked there, even in the warmth. He had tried to think of old times, to smile and laugh, and use the expressions he had used to use, but it all looked foolish on that stone wall of a face. A hard man had glared back at him from the glass, and would not go away.

'It was a difficult journey, sir.'

Burr nodded. 'Of course it was, of course. A bastard of a journey and the wrong time of year for it. A good thing I sent those Northmen with you, eh, as it turned out?'

'A very good thing, sir. A most courageous and resourceful group. They saved my life, more than once.' He glanced sideways at Pike, loitering behind him in the shadows at a respectful distance. 'All our lives.'

Burr peered over at the convict's melted face. 'And who is this?'

'This is Pike, sir, a Sergeant with the Stariksa levies, cut off from his company in the battle.' The lies spilled out of West's mouth with a surprising ease. 'He and a girl, I believe a cook's daughter who was with the baggage, joined us on the way north. He has been a great help, sir, a good man in a tight spot. Wouldn't have made it without him.'