‘Not a word,’ Brood rumbled from the darkness, ‘about my temper’s snapped leash.’

The Great Raven cocked her head towards the cot. The warlord was seated on its edge, head in his hands. ‘As you wish,’ Crone murmured.

‘Make your report.’

‘I shall. First, from Anomander Rake. He has succeeded. Moon’s Spawn has passed unseen and now ... hides. My children are ranging far over the lands of the Pannion Seer. Warlord, not just their eyes have witnessed the truth of all that lies below. I myself have seen—’

‘Save those details for later. Moon’s Spawn is in place. Good. Did you fly to Capustan as I requested?’

‘I did, grave one. And was witness to the first day and first night of battle.’

‘Your assessment, Crone?’

‘The city will not hold, Warlord. Through no fault of the defenders. What opposes them is too vast.’

Brood grunted. ‘Perhaps we should have reconsidered Dujek’s disposition of the Black Moranth—’

‘Ah, they too are emplaced, precisely where Onearm wanted them to be.’ Crone hesitated, turning first one eye then the other towards Caladan Brood. ‘One unusual detail must be uttered now, Warlord. Will you hear it?’

‘Very well.’

‘The Seer wages a war to the south.’

Brood’s head snapped up.

‘Aye,’ Crone nodded. ‘My children have seen Domin armies, routed and retreating north. To Outlook itself. The Seer has unleashed formidable sorceries against the unknown enemy. Rivers of ice, walls of ice. Blistering cold, winds and storms – it has been a long time since we have witnessed said particular warren unveiled.’

‘Omtose Phellack. The warren of the Jaghut.’

‘Even so. Warlord, you seem less surprised by that than I had anticipated.’

‘Of a war to the south, I am indeed surprised, Crone.’ He rose, drawing a fur blanket about his shoulders, and began pacing. ‘Of Omtose Phellack ... no, I am not surprised.’

‘Thus. The Seer is not as he seems.’

‘Evidently not. Rake and I had suspicions...’

‘Well,’ Crone snapped, ‘had I known them I would have more closely examined the situation at Outlook. Your recalcitrance wounds us all.’

‘We’d no proof, Crone. Besides, we value your feathered hide too highly to risk your close approach to an unknown enemy’s fastness. It is done. Tell me, does the Seer remain in Outlook?’

‘My kin were unable to determine that. There are condors in the area, and they did not appreciate our presence.’

‘Why should mundane birds cause you trouble?’

‘Not entirely mundane. Aye, mortal birds are little more than feathered lizards, but these particular condors were more lizard than most.’

‘The Seer’s own eyes?’

‘Possibly.’

‘That could prove troublesome.’

Crone shrugged with her wings half crooked. ‘Have you some slivers of meat? I hunger.’

‘There’s leftover goat from supper in the refuse pit behind the tent.’

‘What? You would have me eat from a refuse pit V

‘You’re a damned raven, Crone, why not?’

‘Outrage! But if that’s all there is...’