A cobbled way led through the midst of this mess, between a half-dozen stagnant fountains and up to a black gate, still sealed tight. A few twisted shapes lay round some wreckage, bristling with arrows. Dead men round a torched ram. Scanning along the battlements above, Shivers’ practised eye picked out spears, bows, armour twinkling. Seemed the inner wall was still firm held, Duke Orso no doubt tucked in tight behind it.

They rode around a big heap of damp canvas weighted down with stones, patches of rainwater in the folds. As Shivers passed he saw there were boots sticking out of one end, a few pairs of dirty bare feet, all beaded up with wet.

Seemed one of Volfier’s lads was a fresh recruit, went pale when he saw them dead men. Strange, but seeing him all broken up just made Shivers wonder when he got so comfortable around a corpse or two. To him they were just bits of the scenery now, no more meaning than the broken tree-stumps. It was going to take more’n a corpse or two to spoil his good mood that morning.

Monza reined her horse in and slid from the saddle. “Dismount,” grunted Volfier, and the rest followed her.

“Why do some of ’em have bare feet?” The boy was still staring at the dead.

“Because they had good boots,” said Shivers. The lad looked down at his own foot-leather, then back to those wet bare feet, then put one hand over his mouth.

Volfier clapped the boy on the back and made him start, gave Shivers a wink while he did it. Seemed baiting the new blood was the same the world over. “Boots or no boots, don’t make no difference once they’ve killed you. Don’t worry, boy, you get used to it.”

“You do?”

“If you’re lucky,” said Shivers, “you’ll live long enough.”

“If you’re lucky,” said Monza, “you’ll find another trade first. Wait here.”

Volfier gave her a nod. “Your Excellency.” And Shivers watched her pick her way around the wreckage and off.

“Get on top of things in Talins?” he muttered.

“Hope so,” grunted the scarred sergeant. “Got the fires put out, in the end. Made us a deal with the criminals in the Old Quarter they’d keep an eye on things there for a week, and we wouldn’t keep an eye for a month after.”

“Coming to something when you’re looking to thieves to keep order.”

“It’s a topsy-turvy world alright.” Volfier narrowed his eyes at the inner wall. “My old master’s on the other side o’ that. A man I fought my whole life for. Never had any riots when he was in charge.”

“Wish you were with him?”

Volfier frowned sideways. “I wish we’d won at Ospria, then the choice wouldn’t have come up. But then I wish my wife hadn’t fucked the baker while I was away in the Union on campaign three years ago. Wishing don’t change nothing.”

Shivers grinned, and tapped at his metal eye with a fingernail. “That there is a fact.”