Josiri couldn’t help but be impressed by Crovan’s reach. He himself knew the burly Nikolos Korsov – merchant turned (reasonably) honest brigand – well. Nials Gavamor was as close to a friend as Josiri had outside of Revekah. But the other Vagabond Councillors? Those he knew only by reputation.

The heavyset Thrakkian twins, Anliss and Armund, stood alone. The crowds on the slopes would never have hidden them. Chainmail, plaited red hair and flame tattoos covering half of their faces – the left for Anliss, and the right for Armund – guaranteed as much. They were supposedly fleeing the wrath of a brother who’d stolen their inheritance, but who knew the truth? Thrakkian honour was complicated, and their wanderlust legendary.

The grim-featured Jesver Merrik controlled the lands to the north-east of Eskavord. Northwealders didn’t enter the Kellin Valley any longer – not without a pack of simarka to flush Merrik’s keen-eyed wolf’s-heads from the rock-strewn fields. “Free Kellin”, they called it.

Then there was Silda Drenn. Like Merrik, her reputation spoke for itself. She was a wolf’s-head of the more traditional kind, little better than a bandit. Josiri knew for certain fact that Revekah would have cheerfully slit the woman’s throat, save that Drenn controlled much of the land between Eskavord and Thrakkia.

Josiri rose, more aware than ever of the eyes on him. Years of preparation could turn on the next few minutes. Especially with Crovan’s unexpected resistance.

“We’ve prepared for this moment for years. We’re ready.”

“To fight one enemy, not two.” Crovan laced the words with polite laughter, as would a man explaining the realities of the world to a wayward child. “Trelszon is burning. How can we keep the Hadari at bay and throw the northwealders from our lands?”

A murmur of agreement rippled across the dell. Heads nodded around the fire, Merrik’s and Korskov’s included. Gavamor toyed with the simarka amulet at his neck, his lip twisting in thought. Josiri wished Anastacia were there.

“Because it’s your duty, you jumped up little worm,” growled Revekah.

Brief laughter overtook the murmurs, then faded. There were more wolf-cloaks than phoenix tabards among the onlookers.

“Rank buys you nothing down here beneath trees,” said Crovan. “Here, we are all one in the Dark.”

“We all have a duty,” said Josiri.

Drenn snorted. “Duty’s for soldiers. It’s nothing out here. Out here, all we’ve got is survival.”

“Not all of us.” Chain rings scraped as Anliss folded her arms. “Some of us fight for honour.”

“Can’t eat your honour, can you, thrakker?”

Josiri marked the subtle shift in Anliss’s posture, and its mirror in her brother. Quarrelling with a Thrakkian over honour seldom ended well.