And so he went along with the fiction, miserable and confused, and with every day that he pretended at marital bliss it became more and more impossible to see his way clear of it. His whole life stretched away before him—loveless, friendless, and sleeping on the floor.

'Well?' hissed Terez.

'Well what?' he snarled back.

'The door!'

As if on cue there was a brutal banging at the door, making it rattle in its frame. 'Nothing good ever comes from Talins,' Jezal whispered under his breath, as he flung back his blankets and struggled up from the carpet, stumbled angrily across the room and turned the key in the lock.

Gorst stood in the hallway outside, clad in full armour and with his sword drawn, a lantern held up in one hand, harsh light across one side of his heavy, worried face. From somewhere down the hall came the sound of echoing footsteps, of confused shouting, the flickering of distant lamps. Jezal frowned, suddenly wide awake. He did not like the feel of this.

'Your Majesty,' said Gorst.

'What the hell is going on?'

'The Gurkish have invaded Midderland.'

Ferro's eyes snapped open. She sprang up from the settle, her feet planted wide in a fighting stance, the torn-off table leg gripped tight in her fist. She cursed under her breath. She had fallen asleep, and nothing good ever happened when she did that. But there was no one in the room.

All dark and silent.

No sign of the cripple, or his black-masked servants. No sign of the armoured guards who watched her through narrowed eyes whenever she took a step down the tiled halls of this cursed place. Only the slightest chink of light under the panelled door that led through to Bayaz' room. That and a quiet murmuring of voices. She frowned, and padded over, kneeling silently beside the keyhole.

'Where have they landed?' Bayaz' voice, muffled through the wood.

'Their first boats came ashore in the grey dusk, on the empty beaches at the southwestern tip of Midderland, near to Keln.' Yulwei. Ferro felt a tingling thrill, her breath coming fast and cold in her nostrils. 'Are you prepared?'

Bayaz snorted. 'We could scarcely be less so. I was not expecting Khalul to move so soon, or so suddenly. They landed in the night, eh? Unannounced. Did Lord Brock not see them come?'

'My guess is that he saw them all too well, and welcomed them by previous arrangement. No doubt he has been promised the throne of the Union, once the Gurkish have crushed all resistance and hung your bastard from the gates of the Agriont. He will be king—subject to the might of Uthman-ul-Dosht, of course.'

'Treachery.'

'Of an unremarkable kind. It should hardly shock such as we, eh, brother? We have seen worse, I think, and done worse too, perhaps.'

'Some things must be done.'

She heard Yulwei sigh. 'I never denied it.'

'How many Gurkish?'

'They never come in ones and twos. Five legions, perhaps, so far, but they are only the vanguard. Many more are coming. Thousands. The whole South moves to war.'