'Well… how far away the Gurkish army is, how many are in it, what route they are taking, you know—'

'Huh.' Ferro squatted down in front of the prisoner and looked him squarely in the eyes. He stared back, helpless and frightened, no doubt wondering what she was doing with these pinks. She wondered herself.

'Who are you?' he whispered.

She drew her knife and held it up. 'You will answer my questions, or I will kill you with this knife. That is who I am. Where is the Gurkish army?'

He licked his lips. 'Perhaps… two days march away, to the south.'

'How many?'

'More than I could count. Many thousands. People of the deserts, and the plains, and the—'

'What route are they taking?'

'I do not know. We were only told to ride to this village, and see whether it was empty.' He swallowed, the lump on the front of his sweaty throat bobbing up and down. 'Perhaps my Captain knows more—'

'Ssss,' hissed Ferro. His Captain would be telling nobody anything now she had carved up his head. 'A lot of them,' she snapped at Vallimir, in common, 'and many more to come, two days' march behind. He does not know their route. What now?'

Vallimir rubbed at the light stubble on his jaw. 'I suppose… we should take him back to the Agriont. Deliver him to the Inquisition.'

'He knows nothing. He will only slow us down. We should kill him.'

'He surrendered! To kill him would be no better than murder, war or no war.' Vallimir beckoned to one of the soldiers. 'I won't have that on my conscience.'

'I will.' Ferro's knife slid smoothly into the scout's heart, and out. His mouth and his eyes opened up very wide. Blood bubbled through the split cloth on his chest, spread out quickly in a dark ring. He gawped at it, making a long sucking sound.

'Glugh…' His head dropped back, his body sagged. She turned to see the soldiers staring at her, pale faces puffed up with shock. A busy day for them, maybe. A lot to learn, but they would soon get used to it.

That, or the Gurkish would kill them.

'They want to burn your farms, and your towns, and your cities. They want to make slaves of your children. They want everyone in the world to pray to God in the same way they do, with the same words they use, and for your land to be a province of their Empire. I know this.' Ferro wiped the blade of her knife on the sleeve of the dead man's tunic. 'The only difference between war and murder is the number of the dead.'

Vallimir stared down at the corpse of his prisoner for a moment, his lips thoughtfully pursed. Ferro wondered if he had more backbone than she had given him credit for. Finally, he turned towards her. 'What do you suggest?'

'We could wait for more here. Perhaps even get some real Gurkish this time. But that might mean too many for we few.'