He caught a flash of blue iron, felt a sharp sting under his chin, and then it seemed that everything simply drained away.

Blinking, he found himself lying on the ground, with Sharenas bent over him.

It was all… strange. Disturbing. He felt a hilt pressed up against the underside of his chin, and something was pouring out from his mouth, sliding thick and hot down his cheeks.

No. I don’t like this. I’m leaving now. He closed his eyes.

Sharenas pulled the dagger free. She collected Silann by the collar and dragged him between two equipment tents. Then she cleaned her blade on his cloak and sheathed it again.

It was only twenty or so paces to Esthala’s tent. Straightening, Sharenas resumed her journey. She reached the front and tapped at the ridge-pole, and then drew back the flap and stepped inside.

There was a brazier on the floor, emanating dry heat and a soft glow. Beyond that, Esthala was on a cot, settled back but still dressed. She looked over and frowned. Sharenas drew back her hood before the woman could speak, and saw a swift change of expression accompany recognition, but not one she could easily read.

‘Sharenas! I see you’ve not yet shed the leagues of travel behind you. But still,’ she sat up, ‘welcome back. There’s mulled wine near that brazier.’

‘Your husband will be late, I’m afraid,’ Sharenas said, drawing off her cloak. ‘I ran into him, on his way up to the keep.’

‘The keep? That idiot. I told him to send a rider if he did not find one of her acolytes. He gets nothing right.’

Sharenas collected the pewter jug and poured out two cups of the steaming wine. The sharp smell of almonds wafted up into her face. Leaving one cup where it was, she brought Esthala the other one.

The captain stood to receive it. ‘So, what brings you to me, then? And couldn’t it wait until the morning?’

Sharenas smiled. ‘You are legendary, Esthala, for working through the night. I myself recall, when we arrayed for battle on a clear morning, seeing you heavy with sleep. Quite the harridan, in fact.’

Snorting, Esthala drank.

From the camp outside, distant alarms rang out.

‘What now?’ Esthala asked, turning to set her cup down on the edge of the cot and reaching, at the same time, for her sword-belt.

‘Probably me,’ Sharenas replied, drawing her sword.

Esthala caught the faint rasp and whirled.

The sword’s blade sliced through the front half of her throat. Sharenas quickly stepped back to avoid most of the blood that sprayed out from the wound.

Esthala stumbled back, both hands grasping at her neck, and fell awkwardly across the cot, snapping one of its legs. As the cot sagged, the woman rolled off it to settle face-down on the tent floor. Her legs twitched for a few moments, and then fell still.