‘As soon as you stop calling me “old man”, I’ll start calling you by your rank.’

‘I was jesting, Duiker,’ Lull said. ‘Call me what you like, and that includes pig-headed bastard if it pleases you.’

‘It just might.’

Lull’s face twisted sourly. ‘Didn’t get any sleep, did you?’ He swung to List. ‘If the old codger starts nodding off, you’ve my permission to give him a clout on that bashed-up helmet of his, Corporal.’

‘If I can stay awake myself, sir. This good cheer is wearing me out.’

Lull grimaced at Duiker. ‘The lad’s showing spark these days.’

‘Isn’t he just.’

The sun was burning clear of the horizon. Pale-winged birds flitted over the humped hills to the north. Duiker glanced down at his boots. The morning dew had seeped through the worn leather. Strands of snagged spiderwebs made a stretched, glittering pattern over the toes. He found it unaccountably beautiful. Gossamer webs . . . intricate traps. Yet it was my thoughtless passage that left the night’s work undone. Will the spiders go hungry this day because of it?

‘Shouldn’t dwell on what’s to come,’ Lull said.

Duiker smiled, looked up at the sky. ‘What’s the order?’

‘The Seventh’s marines are the spear’s point. Crow riders to either side are the flanking barbs. Foolish Dog – now a Toggthundering heavy cavalry – are the weight behind the marines. Then come the wounded, protected on all sides by the Seventh’s infantry. Taking up the tail are the Hissari Loyals and the Seventh’s cavalry.’

Duiker was slow to react, then he blinked and faced the captain.

Lull nodded. ‘The refugees and herds are being held back, this side of the valley but slightly south, on a low shelf of land the maps call the Shallows, with a ridge of hills south of that. The Weasel Clan guards them. It’s the safest thing to do – that clan’s turned dark and nasty since Sekala. Their horse-warriors have all filed their teeth, if you can believe that.’

‘We go to this battle unencumbered,’ the historian said.

‘Excepting the wounded, aye.’

Captains Sulmar and Chenned emerged from the infantry encampment. Sulmar’s posture and expression radiated outrage, Chenned’s was mocking if slightly bemused.

‘Blood and guts!’ Sulmar hissed, his greased moustache bristling. ‘Those damned sappers and their Hood-spawned captain have done it this time!’

Chenned met Duiker’s gaze and shook his head. ‘Coltaine went white at the news.’

‘What news?’

‘The sappers lit out last night!’ Sulmar snarled. ‘Hood rot the cowards one and all! Poliel bless them with pestilence, pox their illegitimate brood with her pus-soaked kiss! Togg trample that captain’s ba—’

Chenned was laughing in disbelief. ‘Captain Sulmar! What would your friends in the Council say to such foul-mouthed cursing?’

‘Burn take you, too, Chenned! I’m a soldier first, damn you. A trickle to a flood, that’s what we’re facing—’