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‘It is the dung in my hand that belies my artless grace, Dathenar. Clumsy and feckless of gesture, I long for an able servant to make these flames dance as is proper. Perhaps it is the cold, or the too brief interim of desiccation afforded this chip, but I feel no heat from this fire. A cold serpent entwines my bones this night, and not even the fair face of Faror Hend can defeat this hearth’s woeful dearth.’
Dathenar grunted. ‘With a fire tended between us and her, my friend, we dare not reach through the heat, though we might – in most private and complimentary fashion – yearn for her softer warmth as a place beyond what burns.’
‘Sirs,’ said Faror Hend after a moment, ‘it seems my presence is an imposition—’
‘Not at all! Prazek?’
‘Anything but! Faror Hend, by the flame’s soft glow, your lovely visage blesses the night. If we falter, it is from beauty’s reflection, so poorly do we hide our longing. I see you surrounded in darkness, like the mien of a moon that looks upon a sun we cannot see. As Dathenar noted, you are well beyond our reach, humbling our regard.’
‘Forgive us,’ Dathenar murmured.
‘If I am reduced to a view, sirs, then best I keep quiet, to better serve your elevation of my worth.’
‘Ah, Prazek, see how she stings? In our appreciation we are unmanned.’
Faror Hend sighed. ‘Commanding this legion is surely a burden. But you are not entirely alone, sirs. And more help may be on the way, when Galar Baras returns with Toras Redone.’
‘Will she ride Galar Baras home, I wonder?’
Faror Hend blinked at Prazek, startled by his question. ‘It is said her spirit is broken, and no surprise at that. Hunn Raal was clever in his infamy. But then, he did offer her the poisoned wine. Was that a gesture of mercy, do you think?’
Prazek eyed her for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘Rank is the issue here, alas. There are times when it is the spine of an army that carries its commander, but these are rare moments. Propriety insists that it is the commander who must bear the army’s burden, roughly measured by its will, its heart and its resolve.’
Dathenar added, ‘But a legion of prisoners, well … we must find our spine, I think. No armour intended for mortals can sustain flesh weakened by a damaged spirit. No weapon can lend its wielder the ferocity of its purpose. We are fitted in the trappings, but they are not enough.’
Faror Hend shook her head. ‘You two have done well. You must know that. Better, in some ways, than Galar Baras. You weave seduction with your words and manner. You invite in us a confidence we cannot muster on our own.’
Prazek grunted. ‘Fourteen dead men, each and all slayers of women and children. Someone is confident enough, it seems.’
‘I fear Wareth is not working too hard on finding the murderer,’ Faror Hend said. ‘Although, that said, he worries on Listar’s behalf. Oddly, that man still lives, even though he refuses added protection.’
‘There is a clue there, I should think,’ Dathenar observed.
‘Some feel the accusations are suspect,’ she replied. ‘Those against Listar, I mean. Sergeant Rance looks upon him and shakes her head, saying he is no killer. I am inclined to believe her.’
‘Women see nothing in him, then.’
‘Nothing to suggest he has blood on his hands, no.’
‘Then the murderer,’ concluded Dathenar, ‘agrees with you. A woman wields the knife.’
Faror Hend nodded. ‘That is generally accepted, sir.’
‘Wareth drags his feet.’
‘Perhaps he hopes the situation will simply go away,’ Faror suggested. ‘That at some point, the killer will be satisfied that enough justice has been served.’
‘You sound doubtful.’
‘I cannot say, Dathenar. Justice, I would think, acquires strength upon its deliverance, enough to sustain the zeal.’
‘She speaks of momentum,’ Prazek murmured, poking at the fire with a flimsy stick. ‘The unseen current. Will without mind. An army can find it as easily as can a mob. We must hope for Toras Redone’s resurrection. We must hope that the Hust Legion will find sure guidance to whatever fate awaits it.’
‘And much of that responsibility,’ Faror said, sighing, ‘falls to us officers as well. Before you two arrived, well, Galar Baras did not have many from which to choose. Wareth, Rance, Rebble, Curl – you’ve met them now, and the others. Even Castegan—’
‘Castegan,’ Prazek interrupted, making the name a growl. ‘We know his cut, Faror Hend. Leave that man to us.’
‘Though as yet unknown, sir, I already regret his fate. I surely would not want both or either of you to set upon me your sanction.’
