He longed to see her again, but the threshold of this meeting was troubling, and as he pushed his mount to the rise his mouth was dry and his nerves were stretched. Passing between the towers, across the level span and then to where the road began its gentle descent into the shallow valley floor, Galar Baras came within sight of the encampment. He saw the rows of tents. He saw – with vast relief – a few figures moving slowly along the avenues and tracks between the company squares.

But something was wrong. Soldiers should have been gathering to the evening meal, forming queues at the cook tents. The avenues should have been crowded. He saw the other picket stations and none were occupied. A strange stillness gripped the camp.

Urging his horse into a fast canter, Galar Baras rode down the road. He saw Toras Redone. She walked alone across the parade compound, a jug swinging loosely from one hand. A scattering of Hust soldiers stood near, but none drew close to her, even as all eyes were fixed upon her.

As he rode in between the first line of tents, Galar saw that many were still occupied – where flaps had been left open and he could see, in quick glance, the bulks of figures beneath blankets, or sprawled on cots – but no one emerged at his approach, or lifted head to his passing. An illness has struck. Vapours from the latrine trench, a shifting of wind, or beneath the ground – a deadly flow into the wells. But then, where is the vile smell? Where are the thrashing shapes voicing dread moans?

When he rode hard into the parade compound, he saw Toras Redone once more. If she heard his approach, she made no sign of it. Her steps were slow, wooden. The ear of the jug seemed to be tangled in the fingers of her left hand. It swung as if full of wine, and he saw that it remained stoppered.

There was a soldier nearby. Galar Baras reined in sharply. ‘You there!’

The man turned, stared, and said nothing.

‘What has happened? What illness is this among you? Why aren’t the plague-flags flying?’

Abruptly the man laughed. ‘I was on picket, sir! On the lookout for enemies!’ He waved a hand. ‘Our relief never showed. I almost fell asleep – but I saw them, you know. They rode out, to the east. Gathered there, and then went on. The sun was not even up, sir. Not even up.’

‘Who? Who did you see riding away? Your relief? Why would they do that?’

‘Like ghosts, sir. In that gloom. Like ghosts.’ He laughed again, and now Galar Baras saw tears tracking down from the man’s eyes. ‘Corporal Ranyd came running in. He drew his sword. He should never have done that. Never, and never again.’

His mind is unhinged. Galar swung his mount round and rode for the commander.