“Pretty clear, I’d say, plant pot.” He paused. “Sorry. Milady plant pot. You didn’t have to toss that herald down the hillside. Poor lad was only doing his duty.”

Gold glinted as she prowled nearer – a simarka stalking prey. [[And you suppose I’d not do the same to you?]]

“Reckon you’d do it with a smile, if those lips’d let you.” He rubbed at his eyepatch. “We both know he can’t hide for ever. Let me talk to him, then you can throw me down the hill. Call it a pleasure deferred.”

Anastacia withdrew. Taking it as invitation, Kurkas followed.

To his relief, the slope lessened as it neared the old watchtower. A campfire smouldered on the lee side of the sole remaining wall. Josiri sat beneath canvas strung between windblown trees, staring out across the ashen waste. Staring but not seeing.

“Captain Kurkas.” He spoke without turning. “If you’ve come on Viktor’s behalf, you might as well save your breath.”

“Sah! ’Specially after that climb. His lordship’s worried about you.”

“And what good did Viktor’s concern ever do anyone?”

Kurkas limped closer. The gusting wind set white petals dancing over the ashen wastes below as proctors scattered duskhazel and fleenroot to cleanse the last of Malatriant’s taint. Superstition, as far as Kurkas was concerned. But he also believed in taking no chances.

“Reckon he did what he had to. There wasn’t any saving them.”

Josiri glared up at him. “And you know that for a fact?”

“She knows it.” Kurkas jerked a thumb in Anastacia’s direction. “And I’ll bet you a year’s wage that she’s tried to tell you. I get it, my lord, I do. You feel you’ve failed ’em, which is why you’ve stood vigil. One last duty, and all that. But that time’s passing. They’d want you to move on . . . your sister more than any.”

Josiri sprang to his feet, a wild look in his eyes. “And you speak for the dead? Calenne, with her throat cut in a final act of spite? What does she have to say?”

Kurkas stared straight ahead. The old muster-field trick that deflected many a noble’s wrath. “Don’t claim to speak for anyone other than myself, sah.” Bracing himself against the crutch, he tugged the battered envelope from his belt. “And I reckon she’d give me hell if I did.”

Josiri stared at the envelope as if waking from a dream. “Revekah?”

“Halvor . . . Captain Halvor made me promise to deliver this. Don’t go making a liar of me now.”

Hesitantly, Josiri took the letter. “Why now?”

“Because I’m riding north tonight. Think I’ve earned a bit of peace and quiet.”

“Thank you, captain.”