Itkovian’s gaze flicked past Kruppe, to see Korlat and Whiskeyjack twenty paces off, standing in front of a large tent, looking back at the group. No doubt curious, yet maintaining a respectful distance.

‘Thus, Kruppe advises one and all,’ the Daru resumed after a moment, his tone deeply satisfied, pudgy fingers lacing together to rest on his paunch, ‘faith. Patience. Await what must be awaited.’

‘And you call that an explanation?’ Paran demanded, scowling.

‘The very paradigm of explication, dear friends. Cogent, clear, if somewhat quaintly couched. Precision is a precise art. Poignancy is pre-eminent and precludes prevarication. Truths are no trivial thing, after all—’

Itkovian swung towards Whiskeyjack and Korlat and set off.

Paran called out, ‘Itkovian?’

‘I was reminded of that Gredfallan ale,’ he replied over a shoulder. ‘It has been years, yet I find the need suddenly overwhelming, sir.’

‘I concur. Wait up.’

‘Wait, indeed, you three! What of Kruppe’s own prodigious thirst?’

‘By all means,’ Quick Ben replied, setting off in the wake of Itkovian and Paran, ‘quaintly quench it – just do so somewhere else.’

‘Oh ho! But is that not Whiskeyjack waving Kruppe hence? Generous, kindly soldier, is Whiskeyjack! A moment! Kruppe would catch up!’

The two marines sat on boulders that were part of an old tipi ring, fifteen paces from where Silverfox stood. Shadows were stretching as the day closed over the prairie.

‘So,’ one of them muttered, ‘how long do you think?’

‘I’d guess she’s communing with them T’lan Imass. See the swirls of dust around her? Could be all night.’

‘I’m hungry.’

‘Yeah, well, I admit I’ve been eyeing your leather straps, darling.’

‘Problem is, they’ve forgotten about us.’

‘That’s not the problem. It’s maybe we ain’t needed no more. She doesn’t need bodyguards. Not dirt-nosed mortals like us, anyway. And we’ve already seen what we were supposed to see, meaning we’re overdue on making a report.’

‘We weren’t supposed to report, love. Remember? Anyone wants news from us they come by for a conversation.’

‘Right, only nobody’s come by for a while now. Which was my point in the first place.’

‘Doesn’t mean we should up and walk away. Besides, here’s somebody coming now ...’

The other marine twisted in her seat. After a moment, she grunted. ‘Nobody we’re supposed to report to. Hood knows, I don’t even recognize ‘em.’

‘Sure you do. One, anyway. That’s the Trygalle trader-sorceress, Haradas.’

‘The other’s a soldier, I’d say. An Elin lass, nice sway to the hips—’

‘Hard face, though.’

‘Eyes fulla hurt. Could be one of them Grey Swords – saw her at the parley.’

‘Yeah, well, they’re coming our way.’

‘So am I,’ a voice spoke from a few paces to their left. The marines turned to see that Silverfox was joining them. ‘This is a fell thing,’ she murmured.