‘You remain determined to bring sorcery to this battle, Hunn Raal?’

‘I do, Lord Urusander. We are past a civil war. Now, two faiths are about to collide. Which camp of the faithful has prepared best for this? Let’s find out, shall we?’

‘And if your magic is answered in kind, captain?’

Hunn Raal shrugged. ‘Make your faith a wall against which the enemy will scrabble, desperate for purchase, eager for a breach. The strength of your belief is proof against such things.’ He twisted in his saddle to regard Urusander. ‘Do you doubt me, sir?’

‘And will the confession of doubt see my corpse laid out in the field below?’

Hunn Raal shrugged. ‘I do not anticipate you riding down into the press, sir. If you do, no assurances are possible.’

‘And the failing shall be mine.’

‘Make your faith a wall.’

Urusander said nothing for a moment, as if considering all that hid behind Hunn Raal’s words, and then he seemed to cast away all that troubled him. ‘Walls may shield you, but they blind you as well, Hunn Raal. Will you make faith synonymous with ignorance? If so, I shall with great interest observe this battle, and, to your satisfaction, I shall do so from here.’

Hunn Raal’s laugh was easy, almost careless. He gestured and a number of his own guards edged their mounts forward, moving until they in effect surrounded Urusander. ‘I acknowledge your courage, sir. Contrary to your promise, it has occurred to me that you might be of a mind to ride down into the valley, not with your soldiers, but alone, to parley with Lord Anomander. Seeking a path to peace, an end to this battle before it is even begun.’

Urusander made no immediate reply, and then he shrugged. ‘I see now that peace is no longer a possibility.’

‘Not here. Not yet. Peace, sir, will but delay the inevitable. We are here in strength. A year from now, with each captain off building estates and breaking new land, we become vulnerable. We need this battle. We need this victory, and we need to make it an overwhelming one. Only then will true peace be possible. More to the point,’ he added, ‘we need you on a throne beside Mother Dark.’

‘So I am to yield command of my legion to you, Hunn Raal?’

‘For your safety, sir, I will stand in your stead.’

A golden glow was building around the group of officers, and Renarr saw the approach of High Priestess Syntara, the refulgent light spilling out from her. Flanked by priestesses bearing bright lanterns on poles, she walked slowly, and soldiers parted for her, some fighting suddenly skittish horses. Unmindful of the jostling, Syntara strode up close to Hunn Raal, and then past him, taking position beside Urusander.

‘Father Light,’ she said. ‘I will remain at your side here. I will be your shield against all sorcery.’