'Something's up,' said the hillman. 'But I don't understand a thing these Southerners say or do. I swear, they're all mad.'

Mad chatter came surging out of that tent alright, when Dogman pushed back the flap. There were Union officers all around the place and in a bastard of a muddle. West was in the midst of it, face pale as fresh milk, his fists clenched tight around nothing.

'Furious!' Dogman grabbed him by the arm. 'What the hell's happening?'

'The Gurkish have invaded Midderland.' West pulled his arm free and took to shouting.

'The who have done what now?' muttered Crummock.

'The Gurkish.' Logen was frowning deep. 'Brown folk, from way down south. Hard folk, by all accounts.'

Pike had come up now, his burned face grim. 'They landed an army by sea. They might have reached Adua already.'

'Hold on, now.' Dogman didn't know a thing about Gurkish, or Adua, or Midderland, but his bad feeling was getting worse every moment. 'What're you telling us, exactly?'

'We've been ordered home. Now.'

Dogman stared. He should've known all along it couldn't be this simple. He grabbed West by the arm again, stabbing down towards Carleon with his dirty finger. 'We've nothing like the men we need to carry on a siege o' this place without you!'

'I know,' said West, 'and I'm sorry. But there's nothing I can do. Get over to General Poulder!' he snapped at a young lad with a squint. 'Tell him to get his division ready to march for the coast at once!'

Dogman blinked, feeling sick to his stomach. 'So we fought seven days in the High Places for nothing? Tul died, and the dead know how many more, for nothing?' It always took him by surprise, how fast something could fall apart once you were leaning on it. 'That's it, then. Back to woods, and cold, and running, and killing. No end to it.'

'Might be another way,' said Crummock.

'What way?'

The chief of the hillmen had a sly grin. 'You know, don't you Bloody-Nine?'

'Aye. I know.' Logen had a look like a man who knows he's about to hang, and he's staring at the tree they're going to do it from. 'When have you got to leave, Furious?'

West frowned. 'We have a lot of men and not a lot of road. Poulder's division tomorrow, I imagine, and Kroy's the day after.'

Crummock's grin got a shade wider. 'So all day tomorrow, there'll be piles o' men sat here, dug in round Bethod, looking like they're never going nowhere, eh?'

'I suppose there could be.'

'Give me tomorrow,' said Logen. 'Give me just that and maybe I can settle things. Then I'll come south with you if I'm still alive, and bring who I can. That's my word. We'll help you with the Gurkish.'

'What difference can one day make?' asked West.

'Aye,' muttered Dogman, 'what's one day?' Trouble was, he could already guess the answer.

Water trickled under the old bridge, past the trees and off down the green hillside. Down towards Carleon. Logen watched a few yellow leaves carried on it, turning round and round, dragged past the mossy stones. He wished that he could just float away, but it didn't seem likely.