Blistig’s face twisted. ‘Mallick Rel has got through to Pormqual. Hood knows how, but he has! We’re going to strike Korbolo’s army – in less than an hour’s time, when they’re still drunk, still exhausted. We’re marching out, Duiker! Do you understand me?’

Cruel. . . so cruel—

‘How many are out there? We need reliable estimates—’

‘Thousands. Tens of thousands. Hundreds—’

‘Think, damn you! If we can knock these bastards out ... before Sha’ik arrives—’

‘I don’t know, Blistig! That army grew with every Hood-cursed league!’

‘Nethpara judges just under ten thousand—’

‘The man’s a fool.’

‘He’s also laying the deaths of thousands of innocent refugees at Coltaine’s feet—’

‘W— What?’ The historian staggered, and if not for Blistig’s grip would have fallen.

‘Don’t you see? Without you, Duiker, that version of what happened out there will win the day. It’s already spread through the ranks and it’s damned troubling. Certainty’s crumbling – the desire for vengeance is weakening—’

It was enough. The historian felt a jolt. Eyes widening, he straightened. ‘Where is he? Nethpara! Where—’

‘He’s been in with Pormqual and Mallick Rel for the past two bells.’

‘Take me there.’

A succession of horns echoed behind them, the call for assembly. Duiker’s gaze swept past the commander to the ranks contracting into formation. He stared skyward, saw the stars dimming in a lightening sky.

‘Fener’s tusk,’ Blistig growled. ‘It might be too late—’

‘Take me to Pormqual – to Mallick Rel—’

‘Follow me, then.’

The refugees were stirring as garrison soldiers moved among them, beginning the task of clearing the concourse to allow room for the High Fist’s army.

Blistig pushed through the crowd, Duiker a step behind him. ‘Pormqual’s ordered my garrison out with them,’ the commander said over his shoulder. ‘Rearguard. That’s in defiance of my responsibility. My task is to defend this city, yet the High Fist has been conscripting from my own soldiers, bleeding the companies. I’m down to three hundred now, barely enough to hold the walls. Especially with all the Red Blades under arrest—’

‘Under arrest! Why?’

‘Seven Cities blood – Pormqual doesn’t trust them.’

‘The fool! They’re the most loyal soldiers of the Empire I’ve ever known—’

‘I agree, Historian, but my opinion is worthless—’

‘Mine had better not be,’ Duiker said.

Blistig paused, turning. ‘Do you support the High Fist’s decision to attack?’

‘Hood, no!’

‘Why?’

‘Because we don’t know how many are out there. Wiser to wait for Tavore, wiser still to let Korbolo fling his warriors against these walls—’

Blistig nodded. ‘We’d cut them to pieces. The question is, can you convince Pormqual of all you’ve just said?’

‘You know him,’ Duiker retorted. ‘I don’t.’

The commander grimaced. ‘Let’s go.’