‘Blood is always the price,’ Hunn Raal said, shrugging. ‘For anything worthwhile, that is. Come now, commander, are we not soldiers? And who better would know the truth of what I say?’

‘Sorcery claims its first victim,’ Urusander said, ‘but, presumably, not the intended one. Heed the lesson, captain. Control is but an illusion – sorcery is indifferent to how it is used.’

‘An expert now, commander?’ Hunn Raal asked with a smile.

‘No, just clear-eyed. Not eager to surrender my reason, my ability to think. Of course, Raal, you’ve had decades of practice in dulling your wits.’ Dismissing the man, Urusander swung round and returned to his horse. With his back to Hunn Raal, he saw nothing of the Mortal Sword’s momentary glare, before the easy smile reappeared.

Renarr’s attention now fixed upon Sagander. The blood looked black in the weak gloom, like a strange beard covering the man’s chin and neck. His eyes were still open, but now only partly so, the lids settling halfway down. She thought of all the fires that had burned behind those eyes only moments ago. Defiant in every surrender, as befits an ageing man. For the right ones, a laudable resolve, sufficient to earn respect and dignity. For one such as Sagander, alas, far too infused with envy and self-pity. No matter – all is dull now, every flame quenched.

A man of accidents, was Sagander. Our historian is dead, but make of that no ill omen. He just failed at luck. And that is a failure awaiting us all, sooner or later.

Urusander mounted his horse and settled into the saddle. ‘Blood in the temple,’ he said. ‘Inauspicious.’

She glanced at him. ‘The High Priestess wields a dull knife.’

‘Your meaning?’

‘Expect nothing subtle. Not in this magic so harshly blessed by Light.’

‘Abyss take us,’ Urusander said in a low voice, ‘I will stop this battle.’

Renarr shook her head. ‘And if you should die, by design or’ – and she gestured down at Sagander’s body, which soldiers were now lifting from the road – ‘mischance, who will step forward to claim the throne? Who will reach, in your stead, for Mother Dark’s hand?’

Urusander said nothing, but he watched as Hunn Raal rode back towards the vanguard.

‘Warn her,’ Renarr said. ‘Warn her about the Issgin bloodline. Proclaim your heir as soon as you can and leave no doubt.’

Urusander flinched. ‘My son is nowhere to be found. And if he was here at my side… ah, still I would hesitate.’

‘An absent heir is in fact ideal, is it not?’

He stared at her, for a moment uncomprehending. She looked away, to wait it out.

The horns sounded, and it was time to resume the march. Sagander’s body now sprawled in careless repose by the roadside. The first of the crows that had been tracking the Legion landed in the muddy field close by, heads cocking as they regarded the waiting feast. Their time would be short, as the army’s train included grave-diggers, near the back of the column.