'Tell me, Furious. Do you reckon a man has to pay for the things he's done?'

West looked up sharply, the irrational and sickly thought flashing through his mind that Ninefingers was talking of Ardee, or of Ladisla, or both. Certainly, the Northman's eyes seemed to glint with accusation in the half-light—then West felt the surge of fear subside. Ninefingers was talking of himself, of course, as everyone always does, given the chance. It was guilt in his eyes, not accusation. Each man has his own mistakes to follow him.

'Maybe.' West cleared his dry throat. 'Sometimes. I don't know. I suppose we've all done things we regret.'

'Aye,' said Ninefingers. 'I reckon.'

They sat together in silence, and watched the light leak across the sky.

'Let's go, chief!' hissed Dow. 'Let's fucking go!'

'I'll say when!' Dogman spat back, holding the dewy branches out of the way and peering towards the walls, a hundred strides off, maybe, across a damp meadow. 'Too much light, now. We'll wait for that bloody moon to drop a touch further, then we'll make a run at it.'

'It ain't going to get any darker! Bethod can't have too many men left after all the ones we killed up in the mountains, and that's a lot o' walls. They'll be spread thin as cobwebs up there.'

'It only takes one to—'

And Dow was off across that field and running, as plain on the flat grass as a turd on a snow-field.

'Shit!' hissed Dogman, helpless.

'Uh,' said Grim.

There was nothing to do but stare, and wait for Dow to get stuck full of arrows. Wait for the shouts, and torches lit, and the alarm to go up, and the whole thing dumped right in the shit-hole. Then Dow dashed up the last bit of slope and was gone into the shadows by the wall.

'He made it,' said Dogman.

'Uh,' said Grim.

That ought to have been a good thing, but Dogman didn't feel too much like laughing. He had to make the run himself now, and he didn't have Dow's luck. He looked at Grim, and Grim shrugged. They burst out from the trees together, feet pounding across the soft meadow. Grim had the longer legs, started pulling away. The ground was a good deal softer than Dogman had—

'Gah!' His foot squelched to the ankle and he went flying over, splashed down in the mire and slid along on his face. He floundered up, cold and gasping, ran the rest of the way with his wet shirt plastered against his skin. He stumbled up the slope to the foot of the walls and bent over, hands to his knees, blowing hard and spitting out grass.

'Looks like you took a tumble there, chief.' Dow's grin was a white curve in the shadows.

'You mad bastard!' hissed Dogman, his temper flaring up hot in his cold chest. 'You could've been the deaths of all of us!'

'Oh, there's still time.'

'Shhhh.' Grim flailed one hand at them to say keep quiet. Dogman pressed himself tight to the wall, worry snuffing his anger out quick-time. He heard men moving up above, saw the glimmer of a lamp pass slow down the walls. He waited, still, no sound but Dow's quiet breath beside him and his own heart pounding, 'til the men above moved on and all was quiet again.