'I'm no courtier, West, for all I have a seat on the Closed Council. Brock, maybe, or Isher? I'll tell you one thing for sure—if you think there's violence going on up here, it'll be twice as brutal back home in Midderland, with half the mercy shown.' The Marshal burped, and swallowed, and laid a hand on his stomach. 'Gah. No Northman's anything like as ruthless as those vultures on the Closed Council when they get started. And what will change when they have their new man in his robes of state? Not much, I'm thinking. Not much.'

'Very likely, sir.'

'I daresay there's nothing that we can do about it either way. A pair of blunt soldiers, eh, West?' He stepped up close to the map again, and traced their route northwards towards the mountains, his thick forefinger hissing over the paper. 'We must make sure we are ready to move at sunup. Every hour could be vital. Poulder and Kroy have had their orders?'

'Signed and delivered, sir, and they understand the urgency. Don't worry, Lord Marshal, we'll be ready to go in the morning.'

'Don't worry?' Burr snorted. 'I'm the commander of his Majesty's army. Worrying is what I do. But you should get some rest.' He waved West out of the tent with one thick hand. 'I'll see you at first light.'

They played their cards by torchlight on the hillside, in the calm night under the stars, and by torchlight below them the Union army made its hurried preparations to advance. Lamps bobbed and moved, soldiers cursed in the darkness. Bangs, and clatters, and the ill-tempered calls of men and beasts floated through the still air.

'There'll be no sleep for anyone tonight.' Brint finished dealing and scraped up his cards with his fingernails.

'I wish I could remember the last time I got more than three good hours together,' said West. Back in Adua, most likely, before his sister came to the city. Before the Marshal put him on his staff. Before he came back to Angland, before he met Prince Ladisla, before the freezing journey north and the things he had done on it. He hunched his shoulders and frowned down at his dog-eared cards.

'How's the Lord Marshal?' asked Jalenhorm.

'Much better, I'm pleased to say.'

'Thank the fates for that.' Kaspa raised his brows. 'I don't much fancy the idea of that pedant Kroy in charge.'

'Or Poulder either,' said Brint. 'The man's ruthless as a snake.'

West could only agree. Poulder and Kroy hated him almost as much as they hated each other. If one of them took command he'd be lucky if he found himself swabbing latrines the following day. Probably he'd be on a boat to Adua within the week. To swab latrines there.

'Have you heard about Luthar?' asked Jalenhorm.

'What about him?'