As the iron wept, the prisoners stood unmoving and made no sound, not a mutter, not a sigh. While, upon the other side of the valley, Urusander’s Legion shook out to form solid ranks. Bleached faces in the distance, iron polished almost white, now the hue of bone in the faltering light.

Wareth of the Pit, oh yes, he fell that day. ’Tis said the artist caught him, there in that front line of the Hust Legion. Toras Redone promised the coward a quick death. There was mercy in that, don’t you think?

Prazek and Dathenar? Why, they held the flanking companies. But in that moment – so I’m told – even they said nothing. The poet soldiers were struck silent, muted by the iron’s grief. And that sound! From the helm, piercing the skull to run riot in the brain – that was no battle cry! That was no promise of glorious victory. The Dog-Runner witches cursed them one and all, those poor fools of the Hust!

‘But you don’t know,’ he whispered. ‘You weren’t there. The witches promised us truth, and we were on the edge of it. Here, in this moment. We all felt it. We all trembled before it. And the iron? This dread keening? Why, it is the sound of knowing.’

The Hust iron grieves, and it grieves for us.

He looked across at the enemy ranks, and felt pity.

* * *

Renarr rode with Lord Urusander to where Hunn Raal and the other captains now gathered, positioned centrally as the Legion assembled in ordered ranks along the ridgeline to either side. She reined in a few moments before Urusander and watched him continue on, pushing his horse forward until he reached the very edge, where he stared across at the enemy.

‘They mean to make a fight of this,’ Hunn Raal said, his voice carrying. ‘Or so they would have us believe. I for one am unconvinced.’

Renarr saw Urusander glance at Hunn Raal, but he said nothing and a moment later returned his attention to the ranks lining the far side of the valley.

‘I see Lord Anomander’s standard!’ said Infayen Menand, half rising in her stirrups. ‘He defies Mother Dark! Mortal Sword, I beg that you allow my company to face him!’

Hunn Raal laughed. ‘As you wish, captain. Ride to your cohort, then. Inspire them with a bold speech. Promise them glory and loot. Go on, Infayen, lift yet again the honour of the Menand bloodline.’

She studied him quizzically, as if uncertain of his tone, but then wheeled her horse round and set off.

Still smiling, Hunn Raal raised a flask to his lips and drank down three quick mouthfuls. ‘Lord Urusander,’ he said, ‘glad you could join us. Under normal circumstances, I would of course yield to your genius for tactics and whatnot. Alas, this will not be a battle for clever manoeuvres. Even your legendary cunning, commander, will but flail in what is to come.’