'Oh, I am far too old to be sloshing around in streams at this time of night.' Bayaz' face grew hard. 'A great man must first learn humility. The pots await.'

Luthar opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, pushed himself angrily up from his place and threw his blanket down in the grass. 'Damn pots,' he cursed as he snatched them up from around the fire and stomped off towards the brook.

Ferro watched him go, a strange expression on her face that might even have been her version of a smile. She looked back at the fire, and licked her lips. Logen pulled the stopper from the water skin and held it out to her.

'Uh,' she grunted, snatched it from his hand, took a quick swallow. While she was wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she glanced sideways at him, and frowned. 'What?'

'Nothing,' he said quickly, looking away and holding up his empty palms. 'Nothing at all.' He was smiling on the inside, though. Small gestures and time. That was how he'd get it done.

Small Crimes

Small Crimes

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'Cold, eh, Colonel West?'

'Yes, your Highness, winter is nearly upon us.' There had been a kind of snow in the night. A cold, wet sleet that covered everything in icy moisture. Now, in the pale morning, the whole world seemed half-frozen. The hooves of their horses crunched and slurped in the half-frozen mud. Water dripped sadly from the half-frozen trees. West was no exception. His breath smoked from his runny nose. The tips of his ears tingled unpleasantly, numb from the cold.

Prince Ladisla hardly seemed to notice, but then he was swathed in an enormous coat, hat and mittens of shining black fur, no doubt several hundred marks worth of it. He grinned over. 'The men seem good and fit, though, in spite of it all.'

West could scarcely believe his ears. The regiment of the King's Own that had been placed under Ladisla's command seemed happy enough, it was true. Their wide tents were pitched in orderly rows in the middle of the camp, cooking fires in front, horses tethered nearby in good order.

The position of the levies, who made up a good three quarters of their strength, was less happy. Many were shamefully ill-prepared. Men with no training or no weapons, some who were plainly too ill or too old for marching, let alone for battle. Some had little more than the clothes they stood up in, and those were in a woeful state. West had seen men huddled together under trees for warmth, nothing but half a blanket to keep the rain off. It was a disgrace.

'The King's Own are well provided for, but I'm concerned about the situation of some of the levies, your—'