As an objective observer . . . ‘My views on what, Captain?’

The man’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Ubaryd, or the River Vathar and the forest and wastes southward? As a civilian who knows well the plight of the refugees, do you truly believe they will survive such a fraught journey?’

The historian said nothing for a long minute, then he cleared his throat and shrugged. ‘As ever, the greater of the threats has been the renegade army. The victory at Gelor Ridge has purchased for us time to lick our wounds—’

‘Hardly,’ Sulmar interjected. ‘If anything, we have been pushed even harder since then.’

‘Aye, we have, and for good reason. It is Korbolo Dom who now pursues us. The man was a Fist in his own right, and is a very able commander and tactician. Kamist Reloe is a mage, not a leader of soldiers – he wasted his army, thinking to rely upon numbers and numbers alone. Korbolo will not be so foolish. If our enemy arrives at the River Vathar before we do, we are finished—’

‘Precisely why we should surprise him and recapture Ubaryd instead!’

‘A short-lived triumph,’ Duiker replied. ‘We’d be left with two days at the most to prepare the city’s defences before Korbolo’s arrival. As you said, I am a civilian, not a tactician. Yet even I can see that retaking Ubaryd would prove suicidal, Captain.’

Bult shifted in his saddle, making a show of looking around. ‘Let us find a cattle-dog, so that we may have yet another opinion. Sormo, where’s that ugly beast that’s adopted you? The one the marines call Bent?’

The warlock’s head lifted slightly. ‘Do you really wish to know?’ His voice was a rasp.

Bult frowned. ‘Aye, why not?’

‘Hiding in the grass seven paces from you, Commander.’

It was inevitable that everyone began looking, including Coltaine. Finally, Lull pointed and, after peering for a moment longer, Duiker could make out a tawny body amidst the high prairie spikegrass. Hood’s breath!

‘I am afraid,’ Sormo said, ‘that he will offer little in the way of opinion, Uncle. Where you lead, Bent follows.’

‘A true soldier, then,’ Bult said, nodding.

Duiker guided his horse around on the crossroads, then looked back over the vast column stretching its length northward. The Imperial Road was designed for the swift travel of armies. It was wide and level, the cobbles displaying geometric precision. It could manage a troop of fifteen horsewarriors riding abreast. Coltaine’s Chain of Dogs was over an Imperial league long, even with the three Wickan clans riding the grasslands to either side of the road.

‘Discussion is ended,’ Coltaine announced.

Bult said, ‘Report to your companies, captains.’ It was not necessary to add, We march for the River Vathar. The command meeting had revealed positions, in particular Sulmar’s conflicting loyalties, and beyond the mundane discussion of troop placement, supply issues and so on, nothing else was open to debate.