“So… you’ll make a deal?”

Black Calder’s eyes slid across to Clover’s. “Make a deal, with that scrag?”

“So… you won’t make a deal?”

“I’m tired. I’m not dead.” And he stood up. “Come with me.”

Clover drained his cup, put his hat back on, and followed Black Calder out the back of the hall.

There was a valley behind the hill, too. That’s how hills and valleys work, after all. Snow on the fields, and the low stone walls, and the gorse and sedge on the slopes, and the roofs of the huts and the hovels. This valley wasn’t scattered with men, though. It was crawling with the bastards. Tents everywhere, dotted all the way down to the half-frozen stream in its bottom and up the far side again. Fires and torches like stars in a night sky. He heard laughter, and snatches of song, and the constant clang of hammers from the many smithies, smoke drifting up in thin streams from their chimneys and into the pink evening.

“By the fucking dead,” whispered Clover, slapped in the face by the sight and the cold both at once.

“Were you thinking that dusting out front was all I could gather?” asked Calder. “My son’s mean temper might’ve bruised some feelings but I’ve got a few friends yet. In the south, down near Ollensand. In the High Valleys, up towards Yaws. A fair few men still wandering back from that fucking disaster in Midderland.” He pointed towards the top of the ridge ahead, where the fires were brightest, and as far as Clover could tell there were ragged standards poking up against the chilly dusk. “And, thanks to the First of the Magi, I’ve some friends out beyond the Crinna, too. You meet Stand-i’-the-Barrows yet?”

“No, but I’ve a sense the name gives some hint o’ what to expect.”

“You remember Stranger-Come-Knocking?”

“Wi’ some reluctance.”

“Stand-i’-the-Barrows makes him look quite the humorist.”

“And bringing the likes of them into the North is a strong notion?”

“Wasn’t my choice. You’re worried over the mess they’ll make, I’d take it up with your friend Rikke.”

“I’ll get the chance?”

“When we march on Carleon.”

Clover gave a smoky sigh. “I was worried you’d say that.”

“I was thinking my work was done. Time to put my feet up, leave the plotting to the next generation. But you know what? I find I’m rather pleased to be called on to save the North once more.”

“Ah. So you’re the hero here, are you?”

“As a man who’s been cast as both hero and villain, you should know better’n anyone, Jonas Steepfield—the hero’s whoever wins.” And Calder smiled out at all those fires, the deep lines spreading around the corners of his eyes. “Reckon I’ve a trick or two to teach Tricky Rikke yet. No doubt she’s crafty, but I heard she’s making mistakes. Heard she had a little falling out with the Nail.”

“Aye, well, he’s one o’ those bastards folk start falling out with the moment they meet him. You hear a lot.”