'Necessary,' said Marovia, sadly shaking his head.

'But hardly straightforward.' Varuz frowned at Jezal across the table. 'In each village, in each town, in every field and farm they have passed through they have picked up more recruits. The country is alive with malcontents. Ill-disciplined, of course, and ill-equipped, but at our last estimate they numbered some forty thousand.'

'Forty… thousand?' Jezal shifted his weight nervously. He had supposed they were perhaps discussing a few hundred, and those without proper footwear. There was no danger here, of course, safe behind the walls of the Agriont, the walls of the city. But forty thousand was an awful lot of very angry men. Even if they were peasants.

'The King's Own are making their preparations: one regiment of horse and one of foot. All that is missing now is a commander for the expedition.'

'Huh,' grunted Jezal. He did not begrudge that unfortunate man his position, commanding a force outnumbered five to one against a bunch of savages buoyed up by righteousness and petty victories, drunk on hatred of noblemen and monarchy, thirsty for blood and loot…

Jezal's eyes went wider still. 'Me?'

'You.'

He fumbled for the words. 'I do not wish to seem… ungrateful, you understand, but, surely, I mean to say, there must be men better suited to the task. Lord Marshal, you yourself have—'

'This is a complicated time.' Hoff glared sternly at Jezal from beneath his bushy brows. 'A very complicated time. We need someone without… affiliations. We need someone with a clean slate. You fit the bill admirably.'

'But… negotiating with peasants, your Grace, your Worship, Lord Marshal, I have no understanding of the issues! I have no understanding of law!'

'We are not blind to your deficiencies,' said Hoff. 'That is why there will be a representative from the Closed Council with you. Someone who possesses unchallenged expertise in all those areas.'

A heavy hand slapped suddenly down on Jezal's shoulder. 'I told you it would be sooner rather than later, my boy!' Jezal slowly turned his head, a feeling of terrible dismay boiling up from his stomach, and there was the First of the Magi, grinning into his face from a distance of no more than a foot, very much present after all. It was no surprise, really, that the bald old meddler was involved in this. Strange and painful events seemed to follow in his wake like stray dogs barking behind the butcher's wagon.

'The peasants' army, if we can call it such, is camped within four days' slovenly march of the city, spread out across the country, seeking for forage.' Varuz craned forward, poking at the table with a finger.

'You will proceed immediately to intercept them. Our hopes hang on this, Colonel Luthar. Do you understand your orders?'

'Yes, sir,' he whispered, trying and utterly failing to sound enthusiastic.

'The two of us, back together?' Bayaz chuckled. 'They'd better run, eh, my boy?'

'Of course,' murmured Jezal, miserably. He had had his own chance to escape, his chance to start a new life, and he had given it up in return for an extra star or two on his jacket. Too late he realised his awful blunder. Bayaz' grip tightened round his shoulder, drew him to a fatherly distance, and did not feel like releasing him. There really was no way out.