When the four marines were assembled, Fist Gamet cleared his throat, then began, ‘It’s clear you are all veterans. And Captain Keneb informs me that you have marched in these lands before – no, I need no more details of that. My reliance depends on that very experience, however. The Adjunct wishes the marines to answer the desert raiders tonight.’

He fell silent then.

And no-one spoke for a time, as the significance of the Fist’s words slowly settled in the minds of the four marines.

Finally, Captain Keneb said, ‘Aye, Dassem’s answer, all those years ago. It’s fortunate, then, that you’d planned on using the word-line this evening. Simple enough to keep it going once the three-way fight’s finished.’ He leaned over slightly in his saddle and said to Fiddler, ‘You’ve the Birdshit, Sergeant? What are the odds running at right now?’

‘Maybe says it’s about forty to one,’ Fiddler replied, keeping his face straight.

‘Even better than I’d hoped,’ Keneb replied, leaning back. ‘But I should add, Sergeant, that I’ve convinced the Fist to back your Birdshit as well.’

‘Ten jakatas,’ Gamet said, ‘and in this I rely upon the captain’s ... experience. And yours, Sergeant ... Strings.’

‘Uh, we’ll do our best, sir.’

Gesler turned to Stormy. ‘Smell something, Corporal?’

The huge Falari with the flint sword on his back scowled. ‘Ain’t no scorpions on the coasts, dammit. Aye, Sergeant, I’m smelling something all right.’

‘Get used to it,’ Cuttle advised.

Ranal was looking confused, but wisely said nothing ... for now.

‘Use the word-line,’ Keneb said, resuming his instructions, ‘and remember, make sure the toughest squads are the ones showing their smiles.’

‘Aye, Captain,’ Fiddler replied, wondering if he should reassess his opinion of Keneb.

‘One last thing,’ the man added. ‘Fist Gamet will be commanding the operation tonight. Accordingly, I want your two squads and Borduke’s to double your duties tonight.’

Oh, Hood’s balls under a big rock. ‘Understood, Captain.’

The soldiers of the Fourteenth Army were strangely arrayed throughout the encampment once the tents had been raised and the cookfires started, seemingly casually seated in a manner that, if seen from on high, would have resembled a vast, knotted rope. And following the meal, activities seemed to cease entirely, barring the reluctant marching out of the soldiers on first picket duty.

In one particular place, centred on the marines of the 9th Company of the 8th Legion, a somewhat different assembly of soldiers was apparent – a smallish, exclusive ring, surrounding a still smaller ring of daggers thrust into the ground, edge inward, at a spacing of two finger-widths. For the moment, that inner ring was empty, the sand smoothed flat and free of pebbles.