“Can no one’s sense of humour withstand so small a thing as a siege? Cheer up, my comrades!” Cosca gave Shivers a hearty clap on his broad back. “It isn’t every day you get to see so large an army handled so well! We should all congratulate Monza’s friend General Ganmark on his exceptional patience and discipline. Perhaps we should pen him a letter.”

“My dear General Ganmark.” Monza worked her mouth, curled her tongue and blew spit over the battlements. “Yours ever, Monzcarro Murcatto.”

“A simple missive,” observed Morveer, “but no doubt he will treasure it.”

“Lot o’ soldiers down there,” Shivers grunted.

Friendly’s voice drifted gently over. “Thirteen thousand four hundred, or thereabouts.”

“Mostly Talinese troops.” Cosca waved at them with the eyeglass. “Some regiments from Orso’s older allies—flags of Etrisani on the right wing, there, near the water, and some others of Cesale in the centre. All regulars, though. No sign of our old comrades-in-arms, the Thousand Swords. Shame. It would be fine to renew some old friendships, wouldn’t it, Monza? Sesaria, Victus, Andiche. Faithful Carpi too, of course.” Renew old friendships… and be revenged on old friends.

“The mercenaries will be away to the east.” Monza jerked her head across the river. “Holding off Duke Rogont and his Osprians.”

“Great fun for all involved, no doubt. But we, at least, are here.” Cosca gestured towards the crawling soldiers outside the city. “General Ganmark, one presumes, is there. The plan, to bring us all together in a happy reunion? We presume you have a plan?”

“Ganmark is a cultured man. He has a taste for art.”

“And?” demanded Morveer.

“No one has more art than Grand Duke Salier.”

“His collection is impressive.” Cosca had admired it on several occasions, or at any rate pretended to, while admiring his wine.

“The finest in Styria, they say.” Monza strode to the opposite parapet, looking towards Salier’s palace on its island in the river. “When the city falls, Ganmark will make straight for the palace, eager to rescue all those priceless works from the chaos.”

“To steal them for himself,” threw in Vitari.

Monza’s jaw was set even harder than usual. “Orso will want to be done with this siege quickly. Leave as much time as possible to put an end to Rogont. Finish the League of Eight for good and claim his crown before winter comes. That means breaches, and assaults, and bodies in the streets.”

“Marvellous!” Cosca clapped his hands. “Streets may boast noble trees, and stately buildings, but they never feel complete without a dusting of corpses, do they?”

“We take armour, uniforms, weapons from the dead. When the city falls, which will be soon, we disguise ourselves as Talinese. We find our way into the palace, and while Ganmark is going about the rescue of Salier’s collection and his guard is down…”

“Kill the bastard?” offered Shivers.

There was a pause. “I believe I perceive the most minute of flaws in the scheme.” Morveer’s whining words were like nails driven into the back of Cosca’s skull. “Grand Duke Salier’s palace will be among the best-guarded locations in Styria at the present moment, and we are not in it. Nor likely to receive an invitation.”