“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Glaward, put loyal Anglanders wherever there were Purity Officers before. Jurand, see the People’s Army fed and paid with what Savine gave you. When the time comes, I want them loyal. Loyal enough, anyway.”

Over the roar of flames, Leo could just hear the wails of horror. Alongside the stink of burning, it reminded him more than a little of Stoffenbeck. He’d been conceived on a battlefield. He’d been reborn on another. He took a wary step back, narrowing his eyes against the heat, and watched the smoke pour up into the dawn sky.

“I guess it had to be done,” said Glaward, wide eyes flickering with reflected flames.

“They love the fire,” said Leo, tugging his jacket smooth, then turning away. “They can have the fire.”

None of the Cards

“Calder’s coming!” roared the messenger, skittering to a halt in the middle of Skarling’s Hall and nearly going over on his arse.

“By the dead,” someone breathed.

Rikke felt a flutter in her stomach. Fear and doubt, of course, those familiar friends of hers, but excitement, too. So strong she couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face. She glanced over at Corleth. “Looks like the weather didn’t put him off after all.”

The messenger was halfway sick from running and he coughed, spat, then blurted out more in gulping rushes. “He’s no more’n… a day or two distant. Strung out on the bad roads, but… lot o’ men. Mighty host. Thousands! And a swarm o’ bastards from past the Crinna, too. Some fucker rides on a wagon of bones. Stand-i’-the-Barrows, they call him.”

There was a murmur in Skarling’s Hall. Fear and doubt, of course, but… actually just fear and doubt. From a set of bastards who’d been tigers every man not a few months back, when they dragged Stour Nightfall into the hall on his ruined knees. She remembered her father telling her, All warriors are brave when they’re sure of victory. Amazing how few stay brave when the numbers are against ’em and the hopes look thin.

“They’re burning every farm they find,” blathered the messenger, “and skinning the folk there, and taking their bones!”

“Their bones?” someone muttered, face all twisted with sick shock.

“They’re the things that keep you standing,” growled Rikke. “We could do with a few more in here, I reckon. Shivers, send scouts into the hills, keep a watch on Calder and his men. Make sure we get no more surprises. And spread word in the valleys round about. Don’t want this Barrows bastard killing anyone we can save with a warning. Tell any friends Black Calder’s on his way, and they should be ready.”

“Aye,” said Shivers, simply. No hint of fear on his scarred face as he picked a few men out and sent ’em scampering for the doors. He didn’t know what fear was. Or if he did, he’d buried his so deep no one would ever catch a glimpse of it. Rikke took courage from that, though her heart was thumping so hard she worried Black Calder might hear it, even a day or two away.