Duiker was silent for a long minute, his eyes on the rock-studded dirt that surrounded the boulder upon which he sat. Then he cleared his throat. ‘Each of us has his own threshold, friend. Soldier or no, we can only take so much before we cross over... into something else. As if the world has shifted around us, though it’s only our way of looking at it. A change of perspective, but there’s no intelligence to it – you see but do not feel, or you weep yet look upon your own anguish as if from somewhere else, somewhere outside. It’s not a place for answers, Lull, for every question has burned away. More human or less human – that’s for you to decide.’

‘Surely it has been written of, by scholars, priests . . . philosophers?’

Duiker smiled down at the dirt. ‘Efforts have been made. But those who themselves have crossed that threshold ... well, they have few words to describe the place they’ve found, and little inclination to attempt to explain it. As I said, it’s a place without intelligence, a place where thoughts wander, formless, unlinked. Lost.’

‘Lost,’ the captain repeated. ‘I am surely that.’

‘Yet you and I, Lull, we are lost late in our lives. Look upon the children, and despair.’

‘How to answer this? I must know, Duiker, else I go mad.’

‘Sleight of hand,’ the historian said.

‘What?’

‘Think of the sorcery we’ve seen in our lives, the vast, unbridled, deadly power we’ve witnessed unleashed. Driven to awe and horror. Then think of a trickster – those you saw as a child – the games of illusion and artifice they could play out with their hands, and so bring wonder to your eyes.’

The captain was silent, motionless. Then he rose. ‘And there’s my answer?’

‘It’s the only one I can think of, friend. Sorry if it’s not enough.’

‘No, old man, it’s enough. It has to be, doesn’t it?’

‘Aye, that it does.’

‘Sleight of hand.’

The historian nodded. ‘Ask for nothing more, for the world – this world – won’t give it.’

‘But where will we find such a thing?’

‘Unexpected places,’ Duiker replied, also rising. Somewhere ahead, shouts rose and the convoy resumed its climb once more. ‘If you fight both tears and a smile, you’ll have found one.’

‘Later, Historian.’

‘Aye.’

He watched the captain set off back towards his company of soldiers, and wondered if all he’d said, all he’d offered to the man, was nothing but lies.

The possibility returned to him now, hours later as he trudged along on the trail. One of those random, unattached thoughts that were coming to characterize the blasted scape of his mind. Returned, lingered a moment, then drifted away and was gone.

The journey continued, beneath clouds of dust and a few remaining butterflies.