‘Contacts,’ Loveless reiterated. ‘Useful, important contacts. From there, we move east, via Tenailen. When Corvel’s forces cross the Kharin river to come south, they’ll have to travel over Lord Shirin’s lands. He’ll be itching to confront them.’

‘The man’s a weapons-grade imbecile.’

‘That may well be in our favour. And he’s not alone, there are other minor lords who just need the right push to fall into line.’ Loveless brushed back her vivid hair. ‘At last, we reach the territories. The tribes will be gathered at Finica for the festival, where our prince will make them an offer.’

Foss stirred. ‘What kind of offer? The tribes aren’t renowned for dealing much with outsiders … beyond raiding them, of course.’ He made the sign of the crook.

Tarfel cleared his throat. ‘Autonomy.’

‘Are you serious, friend?’

He nodded. ‘Every spring, the tribal peoples come storming out of their mountain redoubts in dribs and drabs in their raiding parties, and every year the border lords send mercenary companies back to pacify them. The cycle has repeated for a generation, and it’s a pointless waste. Their tax base is virtually negligible as it is so why not recognize it officially?’

Loveless nodded. ‘When they hear the free companies are no longer defending the foothills and that independence is on the table, they’ll rise as one and come storming out of the mountains … just as Ruumi’s reavers begin their action in the south-west. Uproar in the west, sedition in the south, rebellion in the east, and no mercenary support. Corvel will have to split his forces, then our turbulent lords and errant free companies can cut their lines and squeeze them to paste.’

She stood back, defiant, hopeful. Chel stared at the canvas. ‘It sounds like it could work.’

He heard a soft plink, then the sound of splitting wood. He turned to see Kosh and Whisper up-deck. Whisper strode over to the fore mast to inspect something, then looked back with a giant grin and a big thumbs up. It seemed the improved crossbow was a success.

‘And what of the north?’ Rennic was off the rail, approaching them with heavy steps. ‘Without pressure in the north, he can sit back, let our factions play themselves out. He must feel true panic for this to work.’

Another plink from behind. A tinny thunk, then the same split of wood. The experiments were proceeding well. Chel just hoped they weren’t damaging the mast; the vessel’s crew seemed to loathe their passengers more than enough already.