Sha’ik’s dead – you heard the Semk wailing into the night, didn’t you? And now they wear greased ash like a second skin. Someone in the Seventh told me he came face to face with one at last night’s ambush – the scrap at the dried-up waterhole. Said the Semk’s eyes were black pits, dull as dusty stones, they were. Even when the soldier spitted the bastard on his sword, nothing showed in those eyes. I tell you, Sha’ik’s dead.

Ubaryd’s been liberated. We’re going to swing south any day now – you’ll see – it’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s nothing west of here. Nothing at all—

Nothing at all. . .

‘Historian!’

That harsh Falari-accented shout came from the dust-covered rider angling his mount alongside Duiker. Captain Lull, Cartheron Wing, his long, red hair hanging in greasy strands from under his helmet. The historian blinked at him.

The grizzled soldier grinned. ‘Word is, you’ve lost your way, old man.’

Duiker shook his head. ‘I follow the train,’ he said woodenly, wiping at the grit that stung his eyes.

‘We’ve got a Tithansi warleader out there needs to be found, hunted down,’ Lull said, eyes narrow on the historian. ‘Sormo and Bult have volunteered some names for the task.’

‘I shall dutifully record them in my List of the Fallen.’

The breath hissed between the captain’s teeth. ‘Abyss Below, old man, they ain’t dead yet – we ain’t dead yet, dammit! Anyway, I’m here to inform you that you’ve volunteered. We head out tonight, tenth bell. Gathering at Nil’s hearth by the ninth.’

‘I decline the offer,’ Duiker said.

Lull’s grin returned. ‘Request denied, and I’m to stay at your side so you don’t slip away as you’re wont to do.’

‘Hood take you, bastard!’

‘Aye, soon enough.’

Nine days to the River P’atha. We stretch to meet each minor goal, there’s a genius in this. Coltaine offers the marginally possible to fool us into achieving the impossible. All the way to Aren. But for all his ambition, we shall fail. Fail in the flesh and the bone. ‘We kill the warleader, another will step into his place,’ Duiker said after a time.

‘Probably not as talented nor as brave as the task demands. A part of him will know: if his efforts are mediocre, we’re likely to let him live. If he shows us brilliance, we’ll kill him.’