This life was hard on Thanakar’s leg, riding on horseback and working all the time. Kicking priests. It felt good in a way.

“You can’t go around kicking priests,” said the man at the campfire. “Not and not hear about it.”

“He wasn’t a priest.”

“Close enough. Pass the can.”

Thanakar held out the whiskey. “Don’t drink up all the anaesthetic,” he said.

“A man could use a little.” In the tents behind them, quavering voices sang the national anthem.

The surgeon spy had gone back towards the city with a train of wounded, muttering curses and threats.

“Glad to see the last of him,” said the man. “Still, I wonder what he’ll say. Not so bad for you, being a Starbridge. But he might decide to take it out on the rest of us.”

“I’m not sure the bishop has the power she once had. The colonel’s an atheist.”

“Temporarily. He’s not long for this world, the way he fights.”

“Still, he seems to be winning.”

“Mmph. Damned cannibal.”

Thanakar looked at Charity Starbridge through his mind’s eye. She was sitting up in bed with a pillow clasped to her chest, wrinkling her nose. It was hard for him to put together a scene with her, or a conversation. He had spoken to her so rarely. In the prince’s bedroom he had said almost nothing, just limped up behind her as she stood fingering the prince’s suits, and put his hands around her waist.

Sleeping with her once, he hadn’t yet begun to touch the fantasy he had of helping her unlock the prison of her manners, so that he could coax her out, so that she could say what she felt sometimes. In the morning she had barely spoken, though she had been eager to touch him, to say goodbye.

“Good evening, Commissar,” said the man, making gestures of respect.

“Good evening, Captain. Don’t get up. Is Captain Thanakar around?”

“You’re stepping on him, sir.”

“Ah. My boy.”

“Micum.” The doctor roused himself. “Where did you come from?”

“Just crossing back. I went up to listen to some music.”

“No need for that, sir,” said the man. “We’ve got our own.” He jerked his thumb back towards the tents.

“So I noticed. What is that noise?”

“Choir practice, sir. Half a bottle for an arm, three-quarters for a leg. Have some.” He held out the can.

“Thank you, Captain.” Micum brushed off a rock and sat down by the fire.

“What music?” asked Thanakar.

“Antinomials. They’re camped over the next ridge.”

“Damned cannibals,” muttered the man, but Thanakar sat up. In six weeks he hadn’t seen one. They didn’t come much to the hospital, preferring to ignore a wound or kill themselves if it got too bad. “Are we that near to the front?” he asked.

“Not much of a front,” said the commissar. “And we’re not very near it. Aspe sent them back to rest.”

He frowned. “They’ve been out repacifying.”

“Murderous bastards,” said the man. “Aspe’s just as bad. Sir,” he added when he noticed the commissar’s raised eyebrows.