'It's nothing. They won't miss either one of you at that camp. It's Sergeant Pike again, is all. You can put your mistakes behind you.'

'I won't forget it. I'm your man, now, Colonel, whatever happens. Your man!' West nodded as he made off, frowning, through the snow. War killed a lot of men, it seemed. But it gave a few a second chance.

West paused on the threshold. He could hear voices inside, chuckling. Old, familiar voices. They should have made him feel safe, warm, welcomed, but they did not. They worried him. Scared him, even. They, surely, would know. They would point and scream. 'Murderer! Traitor! Villain!' He turned back towards the cold. Snow was settling gently over the camp. The closest tents were black on the white ground, the ones behind grey. Further back they were soft ghosts, then only dim suggestions through the flurry of tiny flakes. No one moved. All was quiet. He took a deep breath and pushed through the flap.

The three officers were sat around a flimsy folding table inside, pushed close up to a glowing stove. Jalenhorm's beard had grown to shovel-like proportions. Kaspa had a red scarf wrapped round his head. Brint was swaddled in a dark greatcoat, dealing cards out to the other two.

'Close that flap damn it, it's freezing out—' Jalenhorm's jaw dropped. 'No! It can't be! Colonel West!'

Brint leaped up as though he had been bitten on the arse. 'Shit!'

'I told you!' shouted Kaspa, flinging down his cards and grinning madly. 'I told you he'd be back!'

They surrounded him, clapping his back, squeezing his hands, pulling him into the tent. No manacles, no drawn swords, no accusations of treason. Jalenhorm conducted him to the best chair, meaning the one furthest from imminent collapse, while Kaspa breathed into a glass and wiped it clean with his finger and Brint pulled the cork from the bottle with a gentle thwop.

'When did you get here?'

'How did you get here?'

'Were you with Ladisla?'

'Were you at the battle?'

'Hold on,' said Jalenhorm, 'give him a minute!'

West waved him down. 'I got here this morning, and would have come to you at once apart from a crucial meeting with a bath and a razor, and then one with Marshal Burr. I was with Ladisla, at the battle, and I got here by walking across country, with the help of five Northmen, a girl, and a man with no face.' He took the glass and gulped down the contents in one go, winced and sucked his teeth as the spirit burned its way down into his stomach, already starting to feel glad that he decided to come in. 'Don't be shy,' he said as he held the empty glass out.