'And yet it gets no easier.' Bayaz placed his meaty fists on the stone next to Logen's and stared out happily at the view. Just as if it was a field of flowers instead of a sweep of epic ruin. 'I hardly expected to see you again so soon. And to see you so very far advanced. I understand that your feud is over. You defeated Bethod. Threw him from his own walls, the way I heard it. A nice touch. Always thinking of the song they will sing, eh? And then you took his place. The Bloody-Nine, King of the Northmen! Imagine that.'

Logen frowned. 'That wasn't how it happened.'

'Details. The result is the same, is it not? Peace in the North, at last? Either way, I congratulate you.'

'Bethod had a few things to say.'

'Did he?' asked Bayaz, carelessly. 'I always found his conversation rather drab. All about himself, his plans, his achievements. It is so very tiresome when men think never of others. Poor manners.'

'He said you're the reason why he didn't kill me. That you bargained for my life.'

'True, I must confess. He owed me, and you were the price I demanded. I like to keep one eye on the future. Even then, I knew I might have need of a man who could speak to the spirits. It was an unexpected bonus that you turned out to be such a winning travelling companion.'

Logen found he was talking through gritted teeth. 'Would have been nice to know is all.'

'You never asked, Master Ninefingers. You did not want to know my plans, as I recall, and I did not want to make you feel indebted. "I saved your life once" would have been a poor start to our friendship.'

All reasonable enough, like everything Bayaz ever said, but it left a sour taste still, to have been traded like a hog. 'Where's Quai? I'd like to—'

'Dead.' Bayaz pronounced the word smartly, sharp as a knife thrust. 'We feel his loss most keenly.'

'Back to the mud, eh?' Logen remembered the effort he'd made to save that man's life. The miles he'd slogged through the rain, trying to do the right thing. All wasted. Perhaps he should've felt more. But it was hard with so much death spread out in front of him. Logen was numb, now. Either that, or he really didn't care a shit. It was hard to say which.

'Back to the mud,' he muttered again. 'You carry on, though, don't you.'

'Of course.'

'That's the task that comes with surviving. You remember them, you say some words, then you carry on, and hope for better.'

'Indeed.'

'You have to be realistic about these things.'

'True.'