He nodded. “Didn’t have much use for Lumestra back in Dregmeet. Sun doesn’t shine much down there. But the Raven? Give him a coin, give him a feather, and he’d hear you, so my old man said. Death as a friend. Your last friend.”

“Or a final bastion, when all other walls have fallen.”

“I like that.”

Halvor raised her bottle. Kurkas chinked his goblet against its neck.

She took another mouthful and hurled the bottle into the hedge. “You know the worst part? Even now, I don’t know if what we fought for was what we thought we were fighting for. What if Malatriant was pushing us all along?”

Kurkas hesitated. “Reckon you give her too much credit. Way the Council treated you? I couldn’t have taken it. Might be I’d make different choices myself, given time over.”

“Vladama Kurkas, the wolf’s-head. Hard to picture.”

“Maybe in the next life, after Third Dawn.”

“There’ll be war after Third Dawn? You reckon Lumestra will allow it?”

“If Anastacia’s right, there is no Lumestra, not any more. But there’ll always be people, so I reckon there’ll always be war.”

“If Lumestra is dead, maybe there’ll be no Third Dawn.”

“Then look for me on that last bastion. We’ll hold it together.”

The undergrowth rustled. Brask stood on the weed-choked path, the brooding silhouette of Branghall’s tower blotting out the stars. No longer the proud lieutenant of the afternoon, she had the furtive, skittish manner of an animal tempted to flight. Kurkas wished he’d the freedom to let his own fear show. But that wasn’t his privilege, was it? Not until someone else took over this mess.

“It’s time,” said Brask. “Anastacia says she’s ready.”

Anastacia. Not “the prisoner”. Not “the demon”. Fear taught respect.

“Dastarov has my letter?”

“He does. And the swiftest steed in the stables.”

Kurkas grunted. “Raven only knows what Lord Akadra’ll think of all this.”

“That’s not our worry,” said Halvor. “Our job is to make sure he gets it.”

The soldier’s life. You did your part and hoped others did theirs. Pivoting sideways to compensate for his battered leg, he lurched upright and held out his hand. “Coming, Captain Halvor? We can’t start without you.”

She gave a taut nod. Her fingers closed about his.

“Captain Halvor?” Brask’s hesitant words stuttered over her lips. “I wanted to thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” Halvor replied, her tone less acid than the words. “You’re just along for the ride.”

They made for a strange pair hobbling up towards the terrace, Kurkas leaning on her for balance, and she on him out of faltering strength. Brask followed at a respectful distance. Soldiers glanced away as they approached, but furtive eyes always returned. Likely they couldn’t believe what was to come. A special kind of madness, borne out of cruel times.