'He's back in Adua.' West looked up sharply. Ardee was in Adua, and the idea of the two of them together again was not exactly a heartening thought.

'I had a letter from my cousin Ariss.' Kaspa squinted as he clumsily fanned out his cards. 'She says Jezal was far away somewhere, on some kind of mission for the king.'

'A mission?' West doubted anyone would have trusted Jezal with anything important enough to be called a mission.

'All of Adua is buzzing with it, apparently.'

'They say he led some charge or other,' said Jalenhorm, 'across some bridge.'

West raised his eyebrows. 'Did he now?'

'They say he killed a score of men on the battlefield.'

'Only a score?'

'They say he bedded the Emperor's daughter,' murmured Brint.

West snorted. 'Somehow I find that the most believable of the three.'

Kaspa spluttered with laughter. 'Well whatever the truth of it, he's been made up to Colonel.'

'Good for him,' muttered West, 'he always seems to fall on his feet, that boy.'

'Did you hear about this revolt?'

'My sister mentioned something about it in her last letter. Why?'

'There was a full-scale rebellion, Ariss tells me. Thousands of peasants, roaming the countryside, burning and looting, hanging anyone with a 'dan' in their name. Guess who was given command of the force sent to stop them?'

West sighed. 'Not our old friend Jezal dan Luthar, by any chance?'

'The very same, and he persuaded them to go back to their homes, how about that?'

'Jezal dan Luthar,' murmured Brint, 'with the common touch. Who could have thought it?'

'Not me.' Jalenhorm emptied his glass and poured himself another. 'But they're calling him a hero now, apparently.'

'Toasting him in the taverns,' said Brint.

'Congratulating him in the Open Council,' said Kaspa.

West scraped the jingling pile of coins towards him with the edge of his hand. 'I wish I could say I was surprised, but I always guessed I'd be taking my orders from Lord Marshal Luthar one of these days.' It could have been worse, he supposed. It could have been Poulder or Kroy.

The first pink glow of dawn was creeping across the tops of the hills as West walked up the slope towards the Lord Marshal's tent. It was past time to give the word to move. He saluted grimly to the guards beside the flap and pushed on through. One lamp was still burning in the corner beyond, casting a ruddy glow over the maps, over the folding chairs and the folding tables, filling the creases in the blankets on Burr's bed with black shadows. West crossed to it, thinking over all the tasks he had to get done that morning, checking that he had left nothing out.