The Preacher’s troop had already torn apart the wooden platform that had covered the site of the royal box, exposing the shallow bomb crater in the center of a ring of cracked flagstones. At a gesture from their leader, the students offered Marcus a passable salute and returned to what they’d been doing, which seemed to involve going over the ground with measuring tapes and taking a lot of notes.

“I was surprised to hear you were still in the city,” the Preacher said. “I’d have thought Janus would want you at his right hand when the lead starts flying.”

“I’m a bit surprised to be here, to be honest,” Marcus said. “But he says he needs someone he can trust in the city to keep an eye on things.”

“They need looking after, that’s a fact,” the Preacher said, shooting a sour look at the nearest squad of Patriot Guards. “I’ve never seen such a gang of useless arse-polishers.”

“That’s starting to become an unhealthy sentiment to express out loud,” Marcus said. The latest round of victims of the Spike had included several men whose crime was “discouraging confidence and enthusiasm for the government and the war.”

The Preacher spit on the cobbles. “If they don’t like me, they’re welcome to file a complaint. I answer only to God and General Vhalnich.”

“I’m surprised,” Marcus said, eager to change the subject, “that you’re not out in the field yourself.”

It was hard to tell behind his ferocious beard, but it looked as though the Preacher was blushing. “Ah, well. I’m getting old for that sort of thing, you know? Keeping up with the boys in Khandar just about wore the legs off me.” He shook his head. “Besides, for all that they’re Sworn Church lackeys, the Leaguers still believe in Karis and His salvation. It never sat right with me, fellow Karisai killing each other over who kneels to who. That’s how I ended up in Khandar in the first place, you know. So I could point my guns at proper heathens.”

“So you’re still training down at the University?”

“To the extent that such a thing is possible with this bunch of fumble-thumbed lack-brains. With the Lord’s help, I may be able to pound a thing or two about laying guns into their skulls before sending ’em off to war.” He turned to the scurrying students and raised his voice. “Johannes! You got an answer for me yet?”

A gangly youth barely out of his teens shot to his feet. “Yes, Captain!”

“Let me see it.”

Johannes approached, glancing nervously at Marcus, and handed his notebook to the Preacher. The artillery captain’s eyes flicked over the columns of figures.