'Up there,' muttered West, 'on the southern ridge.' Something glinted in the treeline, and again. Metal. 'Cavalry, sir, I'd bet my life on it. It seems Bethod had the same idea as us, but on the other wing.'

'Damn it!' hissed Burr. 'Send word to General Kroy that the enemy has horse on the southern ridge! Tell him to refuse that flank and prepare to be attacked from the right!' One of the adjutants leaped smoothly into his saddle and galloped off in the direction of Kroy's headquarters, cold mud flying from his horse's hooves.

'More tricks, and this may not be the last of 'em.' Burr snapped the eye-glass closed and thumped it into his open palm. 'This must not be allowed to fail, Colonel West. Nothing must get in the way. Not Poulder's arrogance, not Kroy's pride, not the enemy's cunning, none of it. We must have victory here today. It must not be allowed to fail!'

'No, sir.' But West was far from sure what he could do about it.

The Union soldiers were trying to be quiet, which meant they made about as much racket as a great herd of sheep being shoved indoors for shearing. Moaning and grunting, slithering on the wet ground, armour rattling, weapons knocking on low branches. Dogman shook his head as he watched 'em.

'Lucky thing there's no one out here, or we'd have been heard long ago,' hissed Dow. 'These fools couldn't creep up on a corpse.'

'No need for you to be making noise,' hissed Threetrees, up ahead, then beckoned them all forward.

It was a strange feeling, marching with such a big crew again. There were two score of Shivers' Carls along with 'em, and quite an assortment. Tall men and short, young and old, all manner of different weapons and armour, but all pretty well seasoned, from what the Dogman could tell.

'Halt!' And the Union soldiers clattered and grumbled to a stop, started sorting themselves out into a line, spread across the highest part of the ridge. A great long line, the Dogman reckoned, judging from the number of men he'd watched going up into the woods, and they were right at the far end of it. He peered off into the empty trees on their left, and frowned. Lonely place to be, the end of a line.

'But the safest,' he muttered to himself.

'What's that?' asked Cathil, sitting down on a great fallen tree trunk.