‘As you say, sir. We’ll wait for the snake, then – how long should we give him afore we chase after you?’

‘Spindle assures me the delay will be a short one. Expect Quick Ben some time today.’

‘And if he don’t show?’

‘He’ll show.’

‘But if he don’t?’

With a growl, Paran marched off.

Antsy swung a baffled expression on Picker. ‘What if Quick Ben don’t show?’

‘You idiot, Antsy.’

‘It’s a legit question, dammit! What got him all huffy about it?’

‘You got a brain in there somewhere, Sergeant, why not use it? If the mage don’t show up, something’s gone seriously wrong, and if that happens we’re better off hightailing it – anywhere, so long as it’s away. From everything.’

Antsy’s red face paled. ‘Why won’t he make it? What’s gone wrong? Picker—’

‘Ain’t nothing’s gone wrong, Antsy! Hood’s breath! Quick Ben will get here today – as sure as that sun just rose and is even now baking your brain! Look at your new squad members, Sergeant – Mallet, there, and Hedge – you’re embarrassing the rest of us!’

Antsy snarled and clambered to his feet. ‘What’re you toads staring at? Get to work! You, Mallet, give Detoran a hand – I want those hearth-stones level! If the pot tips because they weren’t, you’ll be sorry and I ain’t exaggerating neither. And you, Hedge, go find Spindle—’

The sapper pointed up the hill. ‘He’s right there, Sergeant. Checking out that upside-down tree.’

Hands on hips, Antsy pivoted, then slowly nodded. ‘And it’s no wonder. What kinda trees grow upside-down, anyway? A smart man can’t help but be curious.’

‘If you’re so curious,’ Picker muttered, ‘why not go and look for yourself ?’

‘Nah, what’s the point? Go collect Spindle, then, Hedge. Double-time.’

‘Double-time up a hill? Beru fend, Antsy, it’s not like we’re going anywhere!’

‘You heard me, soldier.’

Scowling, the sapper began jogging up the slope. After a few strides, he slowed to a stagger. Picker grinned.

‘Now where’s Blend?’ Antsy demanded.

‘Right here beside you, sir.’

‘Hood’s breath! Stop doing that! Where you been skulking, anyway?’

‘Nowhere,’ she replied.

‘Liar,’ Picker said. ‘Caught you sliding up outa the corner of my eye, Blend. You’re mortal, after all.’

She shrugged. ‘Heard an interesting conversation between Paran and Trotts. Turns out that Barghast bastard once had some kind of high rank in his own tribe. Something about all those tattoos. Anyway, turns out we’re here to find the biggest local tribe – the White Faces – with the aim of enlisting their help. An alliance against the Pannion Domin.’

Picker snorted. ‘Flown then dropped off at the foot of the Barghast Range, what else did you think we were up to?’