‘Right now, lady,’ Cuttle growled as he drew out a folding shovel, ‘you ain’t got any. Now take it from me, that otataral blade at your comely hip ain’t gonna help you one bit if you decide to stand here. Pull ‘em all back, and leave the rest to me and the sergeant.’

‘Adjunct,’ Gamet said, unable to keep the pleading from his tone.

She shot him a glare, then wheeled. ‘Let us be about it, then, Fist.’

He let her take the lead, paused after a few paces to glance back. The sergeant had rejoined Cuttle, who had managed to dig a small hole in what seemed an absurdly short time.

‘Cobbles down there!’ The sergeant nodded. ‘Perfect!’

‘About what I figured,’ Cuttle replied. ‘I’ll angle these crackers, with the cusser a hand’s width deeper—’

‘Perfect. I’d have done the same if I’d thought to bring some with me—’

‘You supplied?’

‘Well enough.’

‘What I got here in my bag are the last.’

‘I can mend that, Cuttle.’

‘For that, Fid—’

‘Strings.’

‘For that, Strings, you’ve earned a kiss.’

‘I can’t wait.’

Gamet pulled himself away with a shake of his head. Sappers.

The explosion was a double thump that shook the earth, cobbles punching free of the overburden of dust – which had leapt skyward – to clack and clash in a maelstrom of stone chips and slivers. Fully a third of the legion were thrown from their feet, taking down others with them.

Astonishingly, none seemed fatally injured, as if Cuttle had somehow directed the force of the detonation downward and out under the cobbles.

As the last rubble pattered down, Adjunct Tavore and Gamet moved forward once again.

Facing the silenced mob, Cuttle stood with a sharper held high in one hand. In a bellowing voice, he addressed the recruits. ‘Next soldier who moves gets this at his feet, and if you think my aim ain’t any good, try me! Now, sergeants and corporals! Up nice and slow now. Find your squads. You up here in front, Sergeant Strings here has drawn us a tidy nice line – all right, so it’s a bit messy right now so he’s drawing it again – walk up to it easy like, toes a finger’s width away from it, boots square! We’re gonna do this right, or people are going to die.’

Sergeant Strings was moving along the front line now, ensuring the line was held, spreading soldiers out. Officers were shouting once more, though not as loud as before, since the recruits remained silent. Slowly, the legion began taking shape.

Those recruits were indeed silent, and ... watchful, Gamet noted as he and the Adjunct returned to close to their original position – the gaping, smoking crater off to one side. Watchful ... of the madman with the sharper held high above his head. After a moment, the Fist moved up to stand beside Cuttle.