‘We know that, sir,’ the other one said. ‘Which is why my comrade here was teasing him. Itkovian, there’s no such painting. Ormulogun is the Host’s historian, since we ain’t got any other, and he’s charged on pain of death to keep things accurate, right down to the nosehairs.’

‘Ride,’ Whiskeyjack told them. ‘I would a private word with Itkovian.’

‘Aye, sir.’

The two marines departed.

‘Apologies, Itkovian—’

‘No need, sir. There is welcome relief to such irreverence. In fact, it pleases me that they would display such comfort.’

‘Well, they’re only like that with people they respect, though it’s often taken as the opposite, which can lead to all sorts of trouble.’

‘So I would imagine.’

‘Well,’ Whiskeyjack said gruffly, then surprised Itkovian by dismounting, stepping up to him and holding out his gauntleted hand. ‘Among the soldiers of the Empire,’ he said, ‘where the worn gauntlet is for war and nothing other than war, to remain gauntleted when grasping the hand of another, in peace, is the rarest of gestures.’

‘So it, too, is often misunderstood,’ Itkovian said. ‘I, sir, do not miscomprehend the significance, and so am honoured.’ He grasped the commander’s hand. ‘You accord me far too much—’

‘I do not, Itkovian. I only wish you were travelling with us, so that I could come to know you better.’

‘Yet we will meet at Maurik, sir.’

Whiskeyjack nodded. ‘Until then, Itkovian.’

They released their grips. The commander swung himself back into the saddle and gathered the reins. He hesitated, then said, ‘Are all Elin like you, Itkovian?’

He shrugged. ‘I am not unique.’

‘Then ‘ware the Empress the day her legions assail your homeland’s borders.’

His brows rose. ‘And come that day, will you be commanding those legions?’

Whiskeyjack grinned. ‘Go well, sir.’

Itkovian watched the man ride away, down the strand, his horse’s hooves kicking up green clumps of sand. He had a sudden, inexplicable conviction that they would never see each other again. After a moment, he shook his head to dispel the dread thought.

‘Well, of course Kruppe will bless this company with his presence!’

‘You misunderstood,’ Quick Ben sighed. ‘That was only a question, not an invitation.’

‘Poor wizard is weary, yes? So many paths of sorcery to take the place of mundane barges plagued with leaky lack of integrity. None the less, Kruppe is impressed with your prowess – such a dance of warrens rarely if ever before witnessed by humble self. And each one pristine! As if to say faugh! to the foolish one in chains! Such a bold challenge! Such a—’