‘Sir, it is not enough to harden yourself to such atrocities.’

‘You misjudge me, Sharenas,’ Urusander replied. ‘It seems that you have forgotten the campaigns against the Forulkan and the Jhelarkan. No battle shall be unveiled until it is already won. I must think like a commander. Again, after all this time. Gift me with your patience, and consider my words a promise.’

Sharenas shook her head. ‘The time for patience has passed, sir. Your camp is in need of cleansing.’

Urusander glanced at her again. ‘Is it so hard to understand?’ he asked her. ‘I keep looking for justice.’

Sharenas looked down at the castle leavings that crowded the lord’s ankles. You’ll not find it here, Vatha Urusander. ‘Sir, Hunn Raal cannot be trusted.’

His mouth twisted into a faint smile. ‘And you can?’

She had no reply to that question. Any exhortation would demean her.

After a moment he shook his head. ‘Forgive me, captain. As you say, there have been changes since you were last here. Thus, you remain, for the moment at least, outside all of that. Your clay is still wet, awaiting impress, and I but wonder at who would claim such an unmarred surface.’

‘Sir, I cannot but doubt Hunn Raal’s version of that battle. I have known Lord Ilgast Rend all my life. I fought at his side. We knew fear upon the field, in the clash of weapons and the roar of the press. True, he possessed a fierce temper—’

‘Captain, he chose to march upon us. He arrayed the Wardens and sought battle. None of that can be questioned.’

‘Perhaps not. And if he came with his own Houseblades, and not Calat Hustain’s Wardens, I could be made to believe Hunn Raal’s tale – although even then, I would expect an exchange of insults, and indeed a grievous offence committed, to which Ilgast had no choice but to give answer. But the charge set upon Lord Rend – the safe keeping of the Wardens – he would have taken most seriously.’

‘It seems not,’ Urusander retorted.

‘There was the matter of the pogrom—’

Urusander grunted dismissively. ‘For which Rend chose not to accept my own promise of justice, to be attended upon every criminal in my ranks, every slayer of innocents.’

‘Did you give him that promise, sir? Face to face?’

He drew his cloak tighter about him, and then turned to the narrow trail that led back to the gatehouse. ‘I was indisposed on that day,’ he muttered. He set out.

Rattled by that admission, Sharenas followed. ‘And then, sir,’ she persisted, ‘there is the murder of the Hust.’

‘Your point?’

‘The attending of justice, sir.’