She had stopped now, and stood in the centre of the compound, a ring of her soldiers facing her but keeping their distance.

He rode through that ring and reined in before her. ‘Sir!’

When she looked up at him, it seemed that she struggled to recognize him.

‘It’s Galar,’ he said, dismounting. ‘Commander, I was bringing word from Lord Henarald—’

‘Too late,’ she said, and then lifted the jug. ‘He left it. A parting gift. I did not think he could be so … understanding. Galar, my husband isn’t here, but you are, black skin and all, and you’ll have to do.’ Abruptly she sat down, worked free the stopper and held the jug up. ‘Join me, dear lover. I’ve been sober since the dawn and so it’s been a long day.’

He drew nearer, and then paused and looked across to the soldiers. They watched, silent. One turned away suddenly and fell to her knees, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

‘Galar,’ said Toras Redone. ‘Join me in this drink, will you? Let’s celebrate peace.’

‘Peace, sir? I bring news of war.’

‘Ah, well, I fear it’s over. Can you not hear how peaceful we are? No clamour, no blathering voices from fools who can’t stop talking, even though they have nothing of worth to say. Have you not ever noticed that? The mouths that run too fast make dead seeds of every word, flung to barren ground in their wake, yet on they rush – and you see in their eyes a kind of desperation, I think, as they long for a gardener’s touch, but no talent finds them, and never will, and surely they know it.’

‘Commander, what has happened here?’

Her brows lifted. ‘Oh, a night of revelry. Ale and wine, but you know how the sleep that follows gives little rest. Why is it, I wonder, that the gods of the world made of every pleasurable habit a poison? These gods, I think, have no understanding of joy. They make feeling good a thing of evil. Don’t ask me to worship such miserable shits, Galar Baras. Their paradise is a desert. In such a place we must bless the sun, eschew the begging for water, and call friend the infernal heat. I see those sands, crowded with scorched remnants of souls, but at least they were pure, yes?’ The smile she offered then was terrible to behold. ‘Join me, sit down at my side, lover. Let us drink to peace.’

Uncomprehending, but feeling so bereft he was not even capable of shame or guilt each time she called him lover, he stepped close.