Her level gaze remained fixed on him. ‘Indeed? What stirring symphony would you wish for war, captain? Drums to quicken the heart? A rising crescendo to mark the momentous clash of two foes meeting in combat? Sorrowful dirges to settle like ashes upon the inevitable scene of slaughter to follow? Are you a romantic, captain? Do you dream of glory and virtue, of heroism and bravery? Are we all brothers and sisters under the armour, under the skin and down among our bones which, when at last laid bare, lose all provenance?’ She raised her tankard and swallowed down another mouthful. ‘Is this the man who has come among us? Sodden and sentimental, yet eager to raise a hand and point an accusing finger at unbelievers?’

Hunn Raal bit back a savage retort. ‘The Hust Legion proclaims itself Mother Dark’s own—’

‘Does Urusander resent the claim? Do you?’

He shook his head. ‘Commander, there are Deniers among you.’

‘What of it?’

‘They do not belong to Mother Dark.’

‘Don’t they?’

‘Of course they don’t.’

She refilled her tankard – something she did after every mouthful. ‘Too many things weaken your resolve, captain. Your self-doubt creates enemies and then raises them up like things of mud and straw. But whose flaws are so displayed? Many an old soldier has noted how one is measured by one’s enemies. Yet, here you are, refusing to respect your foe, even as you exaggerate the threat they pose. Are you too drunk, captain, to countenance the contradiction?’

This night had begun in a contest of drinking, or so Hunn Raal had read the challenge in the commander’s eyes, when she had first invited him to sit with her. In the meantime, the wagons had trundled into the encampment, and the casks were unloaded to laughing soldiers, and Toras Redone had voiced no objection to the distribution of such bounty. He struggled to steady his thoughts. ‘I respect the threat they represent, commander. This is why I have come to you. Our legions must stand together, in Mother Dark’s defence.’

‘It is my understanding, captain, that she commands no such thing. Mother Dark does not compel anyone.’ Then Toras Redone suddenly snorted. ‘How could she, when the gifts of worship remain unknown? In what manner are we rewarded when we deem her a goddess? What cast this coinage of faith? The priestesses flounder in their beds and silken pillows. Mother Dark announces no laws and demands nothing from us. What kind of goddess is she, when she does not gauge her own power in terms of adherents? Worship her. Do not worship her. Either way, she remains unchanged.’

‘I am a simple soldier, commander, and I admit to avoiding the confusions of religious practice. I see the world as a soldier must see it. We all wear uniforms, be they girded for war or politics, or religion.’

‘Is there not room for all of us in Kurald Galain?’