'So?'

'East, or north, and set another trap like this one.'

'And defeat the Emperor's army a dozen men at a time? Small steps.'

Ferro shrugged. 'Small steps in the right direction. Unless you've seen enough, and want to go back to your walls.'

Vallimir gave her a long frown, then he turned to one of his men, a heavy-built veteran with a scar on his cheek. 'There is a village just east of here, is there not, Sergeant Forest?'

'Yes, sir. Marlhof is no more than ten miles distant.'

'Will that suit you?' asked Vallimir, raising one eyebrow at Ferro.

'Dead Gurkish suit me. That is all.'

Leaves on the Water

« ^ »

'Carleon,' said Logen. 'Aye,' said Dogman. It squatted there, in the fork of the river, under the brooding clouds. Hard shapes of tall walls and towers on the sheer bluff above the fast-flowing water, up where Skarling's hall used to stand. Slate roofs and stone buildings squashed in tight on the long downward slope, clustered in round the foot of the hill and with another wall outside, everything leant a cold, sharp shine from the rain just finished falling. Dogman couldn't say he was glad to see the place again. Every visit yet had turned out badly.

'It's changed some, since the battle, all them years ago.' Logen was looking down at his spread-out hand, waggling the stump of his missing finger.

'There weren't no walls like that round it then.'

'No. But there weren't no Union army round it neither.'

Dogman couldn't deny it was a comforting fact. The Union pickets worked their way through the empty fields about the city, a wobbly line of earthworks, and stakes, and fences, with men moving behind 'em, dull sunlight catching metal now and then. Thousands of men, well-armed and vengeful, keeping Bethod penned up.

'You sure he's in there?'

'Don't see where else he's got to go. He lost most of his best boys up in the mountains. No friends left, I reckon.'

'We've all got less than we used to,' Dogman muttered. 'I guess we just sit here. We got time, after all. Lots of it. We sit here and watch the grass grow, and we wait for Bethod to give up.'

'Aye.' But Logen didn't look like he believed it.

'Aye,' said Dogman. But just giving up didn't sound much like the Bethod he knew.

He turned his head at the sound of hooves fast on the road, saw one of those messengers with a helmet like an angry chicken race from the trees and towards West's tent, horse well-lathered from hard riding. He reined up in a fumbling hurry, near fell out of his saddle in his rush to get down, wobbled past a few staring officers and in through the flap. Dogman felt that familiar weight of worry in his gut. 'That's got the taste o' bad news.'

'What other kind is there?'

There was some flutter down there now, soldiers shouting, throwing their arms around. 'Best go and see what's happened,' muttered Dogman, though he'd much rather have walked the other way. Crummock was stood near the tent, frowning at the commotion.