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‘We’ve been in worse,’ Mordrec reminded him philosophically. ‘Remember the steppes, hmm?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ Dal agreed, feeling suddenly very tired. I’m just slightly on the wrong side of youth to be indulging in these all-night capers. ‘That double-cross at Mie Salve wasn’t much fun either.’

‘Only because of your bloody taste in women,’ Mordrec reminded him. ‘Matter of fact, the steppe business was women too.’

‘Well there’s no woman here now, Mord.’

‘There was Siriell,’ Mordrec suggested, impoliticly. At Dal’s responding glare he shrugged, setting the nailbow swaying on his shoulder. ‘I’m just saying.’

Dal was formulating a scathing reply, when he saw movement, and identified it a moment later as Soul and Ygor on their rapid return. The fools, they’ve been spotted, was his instant thought.

Without being told, Mordrec was heading back into the canes to rouse the others.

‘Report,’ Dal snapped angrily, but Ygor was grinning broadly.

‘You’ll love it,’ the Scorpion promised. ‘You’ll kiss me for it.’

‘What, Ygor?’

‘It’s the raiding party. Our raiding party.’

Dal stared at him dumbly, then looked to Soul for confirmation.

‘It’s true,’ the Grasshopper confirmed. ‘We spoke with that Spider, Avaris. They got lost. Been wandering around for a day or so trying to find us.’

‘Just shy of a hundred fighting men and women now, they’ve got,’ Ygor added with great satisfaction.

Dal weighed up the numbers in his head.

‘Come morning, we head south,’ he decided. ‘We move fast, and in one group. When we meet the Salmae, we fight. There’s nothing else for it. We’ll break through them, or break against them. We’ve reached the end of it.’

Thirty-Two

‘They’re now moving in force towards the border. This leader of theirs is a resourceful fellow, it seems,’ Lowre Cean remarked mildly.

Salme Elass was not in the mood for mildness. ‘I want him brought alive to Leose. I want him executed before his followers, for denying the order of the Commonweal.’

Lowre raised an eyebrow at her, for that. They were in full war council, with two dozen other nobles crammed into her grand campaigning tent this evening, so he said nothing, but she took him up on it nonetheless.

‘By taking these liberties, it is not me that these wretches defy,’ she snapped, ‘it is our entire society. In turning on their betters, they are traitors to the very Monarch.’

‘No doubt it is as you say,’ Lowre replied softly, but with a slight edge to his voice that made the others stir uncertainly.

Tynisa glanced at Alain, sitting beside her. He had his arms folded, head cocked to one side. Catching her gaze, he raised his eyebrows. We’d both rather be out getting things done, his look seemed to say, and when she grinned a little, he repaid her twice over. She felt something stir and leap within her. I’m winning.

‘They have greater numbers than us,’ Lowre continued after a pause. ‘Certainly more numbers than any force we could intercept them with before they reach Rhael. However, I suppose we must make the attempt, or they will doubtless return in even greater strength, and we will never be done. I want this business finished.’

‘As do we all,’ Elass confirmed.

Again, Lowre eyed her, but said nothing. Like an Imperial general, he had a map to hand, on which stones of various colours marked the last known positions of the brigands, and of their own forces. ‘Our chief aim is to place a force in their path that will suffice to delay them. We have limited numbers, however, who can move swiftly enough to cut them off. Also, if we put too strong a force in their way, they are likely to change their course once again. We must tempt them into a fight they believe they can win quickly. Once they are engaged, our remaining forces can catch them up and close the trap. This will necessitate everyone moving throughout the night. Our forces will thus not be best fit for a fight in the morning, but I see no alternative. For those who stand in the brigands’ path, things will go hard. If our main force is delayed for any reason,