“It’s just a question of listening.” Calder took a satisfied breath of the chill evening air, and let it sigh away. “This was where my father’s dream was born. One North. One nation with one king. My idiot brother’s folly couldn’t stop that dream. My idiot son’s folly won’t, either. The Dogman couldn’t stop it, even with the whole Union at his back. His daughter damn sure won’t, Long Eye, Short Eye, or whatever bloody eye.”

“I should bring my people into the warm,” said Clover. “They’re down in the woods at the—”

“They’re rounded up and disarmed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” Clover scratched thoughtfully at his scar and resisted the urge to ask whether they’d live out the day. Calder knew what he was thinking anyway.

“Don’t worry, I’m treating ’em as guests. I’m not my brother or my son. I don’t break things I can use. There’s only one question you need to worry about.”

“Where I go to piss?”

“Which side you’re on.”

Clover puffed out his cheeks. In all the strutting and waste when Stour was in charge, he’d forgotten what a formidable bastard Black Calder could be. They’re like that, thinkers. While your eyes are on the fighters, they creep up on you. This wasn’t how he’d wanted it. But when was anything?

“Well, if I’m so damn reliable…” He looked out at the valley, and all those fires, right to the far hills. “You already know what side I’m on.”

The Only Explanation

“The only explanation for your defeat is treason!” screeched Sworbreck, bashing the rail with his fist.

Leo had lost a battle with the odds well in his favour, so he could think of plenty of others. Recklessness, arrogance, trickery, hesitation, bad weather, bad allies, bad luck. Or, for instance, that when money was finally found to send the army new boots, Risinau had ordered them supplied with a collection of his essays instead. Sworbreck had written the foreword. But treason was the only explanation the Court of the People wanted to hear.

“I did everything I could to win, sir!” bellowed General Bell. “I mean, Citizen. You won’t find a more loyal man than me!”

“Precisely what a traitor would say!” screeched Sworbreck, while drunks in the gallery jeered like the crowd at a slum prizefight.

Leo had watched them turn Sergeant Bell into General Bell after Judge seized power, standing red-faced on the very spot where he now stood trial. Made commander of the People’s Army without a day’s experience as an officer. Brint’s jacket had fitted him badly. Brint’s responsibilities fitted him even worse. But the Representatives had filled the dome with sentimental applause even so. Slapped his back as they sent him up the aisle to fight Lord Marshal Forest and his royalists. Most of them must’ve guessed how it’d end. Leo certainly had. But since the Great Change, appearances were more important than realities. Savine would’ve said they always had been.

“From what I hear,” muttered Leo, “that man was the best sergeant in the army.”