“Good order. For a retreat.” Shivers’ voice had withered to a throaty whisper in Visserine.

Vitari snorted. “If there’s one thing Rogont knows how to manage it’s a retreat. He’s had enough practice.”

“One must appreciate the irony,” observed Morveer, watching the soldiers pass with a look of faint scorn. “Today’s proud legions march over the last vestiges of yesterday’s fallen empire. So it always is with military splendour. Hubris made flesh.”

“How incredibly profound.” Murcatto curled her lip. “Why, travelling with the great Morveer is both pleasure and education.”

“I am philosopher and poisoner all in one. I pray you not to worry, though, my fee covers both. Remunerate me for my bottomless insights, the poison comes free of charge.”

“Does our luck have no end?” she grated back.

“Does it even have a beginning?” murmured Vitari.

The group was down to six, and those more irritable than ever. Murcatto, hood drawn up, black hair hanging lank from inside, only her pointed nose and chin and hard mouth visible. Shivers, half his head still bandaged and the other half milk-pale, his one eye sunk in a dark ring. Vitari, sitting on the parapet with her legs stretched out and her shoulders propped against a broken column, freckled face tipped back towards the bright sun. Morveer, frowning down at the churning water, his apprentice leaning nearby. And Friendly, of course. Six. Cosca was dead. In spite of his name, Friendly rarely kept friends long.

“Talking of remuneration,” Morveer droned on, “we should visit the nearest bank and have a note drawn up. I hate to have debts outstanding between myself and an employer. It leaves a sour taste on our otherwise honey-sweet relationship.”

“Sweet,” grunted Day, around a mouthful, though whether she was talking about her cake or the relationship, it was impossible to say.

“You owe me for my part in General Ganmark’s demise, a peripheral yet vital one, since it prevented you from partaking in a demise of your own. I have also to replace the equipment so carelessly lost in Visserine. Need I once again point out that, had you allowed me to remove our problematic farmers as I desired, there would have been no—”

“Enough,” hissed Murcatto. “I don’t pay you to be reminded of my mistakes.”

“I imagine that service too is free of charge.” Vitari slid down from the parapet. Day swallowed the last of her cake and licked her fingers. They all made ready to move, except for Friendly. He stayed, looking down at the water.

“Time to move,” said Murcatto.

“Yes. I am going back to Talins.”

“You’re what?”

“Sajaam was sending word to me here, but there is no letter.”

“It’s a long way to Talins. There’s a war—”

“This is Styria. There’s always a war.”

There was a pause while she looked at him, her eyes almost hidden in her hood. The others watched, none showing much feeling at his going. People rarely did, when he went, and nor did he. “You’re sure?” she asked.