For weeks the Cadians practised voxless night assaults, bunker clearance and trench defences. All the time the great mass of Crannog Mons reared up in the western sky over the mass graves.

When, at last, they returned to their camp Colonel Sparker summoned Lieutenant Dido. She entered and closed the flimsy door behind her. He was still in combat gear, camo stripes across his face. He shoved a piece of paper towards her.

‘Ceremonial duties,’ he said. ‘Bendikt has asked for your platoon.’

She said, ‘Does this have anything to do with the Drookians?’

Sparker appeared to have forgotten about all that. He waved a hand. ‘No. You were specially selected. High priority. Local aristo­crat. Get your lot cleaned up and head out. You’ve got to be on the road by midnight.’

Dido found each of her sergeants and handed out the shower chits. ‘Dress duty. Out by midnight.’

Minka passed the orders on, handing each their metal chit. She found Breve. He had spent the week coaxing The Saint’s machine-spirit to full working order and was looking forward to a period of rest where he could strip the engine down and soak the pieces in holy unguents.

He took the news badly. ‘Throne! Driving back to Starport? You have to be kidding.’

‘Dido has asked the tech-priests to minister to all our Chimeras.’

They could see the lumens of the tech-priests and their servitor entourages, making their way across the camp.

‘Great!’ Breve said, with mock pleasure.

There were six shower blocks set about the camp – long flakboard buildings with a boiler at one end and a pair of chambers set with naked metal hoses. An attendant sat in the antechamber, his pinched face staring out. There was a small gap at the bottom of the window through which shower chits could be swapped for clean, dry towelling.

Minka got to the shower as Lyrga and Karni were leaving. ‘Sarge,’ they called out cheerfully as they towelled their hair dry. Warm water had an amazingly restorative effect. There was no trace of the weeks of accumulated grime on them.

Minka handed her chit through the window. The attendant wordlessly handed her the towel.

She pushed into the women’s changing room. It was a plain, damp space, with rows of metal hooks hammered into a cross beam. Dido had arrived just before Minka and was stripped down to her military issue vest and underwear. She pulled her vest over her head and hung it on a peg.