‘It does not surprise me, Atri-Preda, that your kind saw it that way. And I do not doubt that such concerns were present in the mind of the Warlock King. Did we conquer you in order to survive? Perhaps.’ Brohl considered saying more, then he shook his head, watching as four wardogs closed on a wounded cattle dog. The lame beast fought back, but was soon down, kicking, then silent and limp as the wardogs tore open its belly.

Bivatt asked, ‘Do you ever wonder, Overseer, which of us truly won that war?’

He shot her a dark look. ‘No, I do not. Your scouts have found no other signs of Awl in this area, I understand. So now the Factor will consolidate the Letherii claim in the usual fashion?’

The Atri-Preda nodded. ‘Outposts. Forts, raised roads. Settlers will follow.’

‘And then, the Factor will extend his covetous intentions, yet further east.’

‘As you say, Overseer. Of course, I am sure you recognize the acquisitions gift the Tiste Edur as well. The empire’s territory expands. I am certain the Emperor will be pleased.’

This was Brohl Handar’s second week as governor of Drene. There were few Tiste Edur in this remote corner of Rhulad’s empire, less than a hundred, and only his three staff members were from Brohl’s own tribe, the Arapay. The annexation of Awl’dan by what amounted to wholesale genocide had begun years ago-long before the Edur conquest-and the particulars of rule in far Letheras seemed to have little relevance to this military campaign. Brohl Handar, the patriarch of a clan devoted to hunting tusked seals, wondered-not for the first time-what he was doing here.

Titular command as Overseer seemed to involve little more than observation. The true power of rule was with Letur Anict, the Factor of Drene, who ‘is highly ranked in the Liberty Consign’. Some kind of guild of merchants, he had learned, although he had no idea what, precisely, was liberating about this mysterious organization. Unless, of course, it was the freedom to do as they pleased. Including the use of imperial troops to aid in the acquisition of ever more wealth.

‘Atri-Preda.’

‘Yes, Overseer?’

‘These Awl-do they fight back? No, not as they did today. I mean, do they mount raids? Do they mass their warriors on the path to all-out war?’

She looked uncomfortable. ‘Overseer, there are two… well, levels, to this.’

‘Levels. What does that mean?’

‘Official and… unofficial. It is a matter of perception.’

‘Explain.’

‘The belief of the common folk, as promulgated through imperial agents, is that the Awl have allied themselves with the Ak’ryn to the south, as well as the D’rhasilhani and the two kingdoms of Bolkando and Saphinand-in short, all the territories bordering the empire-creating a belligerent, warmongering and potentially overwhelming force-the Horde of the Bolkando Conspiracy-that threatens the entire eastern territories of the Lether Empire. It is only a matter of time before that horde is fully assembled, whereupon it will march. Accordingly, every attack launched by the Letherii military serves to diminish the numbers the Awl can contribute, and furthermore, the loss of valuable livestock in turn weakens the savages. Famine may well manage what swords alone cannot-the entire collapse of the Awl.’

‘I see. And the unofficial version?’

She glanced across at him. ‘There is no conspiracy, Overseer. No alliance. The truth is, the Awl continue to light among themselves-their grazing land is shrinking, after all. And they despise the Ak’ryn and the D’rhasilhani, and have probably never met anyone from Bolkando or Saphinand.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘We did clash with a mercenary company of some sort, two months past-the disastrous battle that spurred your appointment, I suspect. They numbered perhaps seven hundred, and after a half-dozen skirmishes I led a force of six thousand Letherii in pursuit. Overseer, we lost almost three thousand soldiers in that final battle. If not for our mages…’ She shook her head. ‘And we still have no idea who they were.’

Brohl studied the woman. He had known nothing about any such clash. The reason for his appointment? Perhaps. ‘The official version you spoke of earlier-the lie-justifies the slaughter of the Awl, in the eyes of the commonry. All of which well serves the Factor’s desire to make himself yet richer. I see. Tell me, Atri-Preda, why does Letur Anict need all that gold? What does he do with it?’

The woman shrugged. ‘Gold is power,’

‘Power over whom?’

‘Anyone, and everyone.’

‘Excepting the Tiste Edur, who are indifferent to the Letherii idea of wealth.’

She smiled. Are you, Overseer? Still?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There are Hiroth in Drene-yes, you have met them. Each claims kinship with the Emperor, and upon that claim they have commandeered the finest estates and land. They have hundreds of Indebted as slaves. Soon, perhaps, there will be Tiste Edur among the membership of the Liberty Consign.’

Brohl Handar frowned. On a distant ridge stood three Awl dogs, two drays and one smaller cattle dog, watching as the herds were driven through the destroyed encampment-the livestock bawling in the stench of spilled blood and wastes. He studied the three silhouettes on the ridge. Where would they go now, he wondered. ‘I have seen enough.’ He tugged his horse round, too tight on the reins, and the beast’s head snapped up and it snorted, backing as it turned. Brohl struggled to keep his balance.

If the Atri-Preda was amused she was wise enough not to show it.

In the sky overhead, the first carrion birds had appeared,

The South Jasp River, one of the four tributaries of Lether River leading down from the Bluerose Mountains, was flanked on its south bank by a raised road that, a short distance ahead, began its long climb to the mountain pass, beyond which lay the ancient kingdom of Bluerose, now subject to the Letherii Empire. The South Jasp ran fast here, the momentum of its savage descent from the mountains not yet slowed by the vast plain it now found itself crossing. The icy water pounded over huge boulders left behind by long-extinct glaciers, flinging bitter-cold mist into the air that drifted in clouds over the road.

The lone figure awaiting the six Tiste Edur warriors and their entourage was if anything taller than any Edur, yet thin, wrapped in a black sealskin cloak, hood raised. Two baldrics criss-crossed its chest, from which hung two Letherii longswords, and the few wisps of long white hair that had pulled free in the wind were now wet, adhering to the collar of the cloak.

To the approaching Merude Edur, the face within that cowl looked pallid as death, as if a corpse had just dragged itself free of the numbing river, something long frozen in the white-veined reaches of the mountains that awaited them.

The lead warrior, a veteran of the conquest of Letheras, gestured for his comrades to halt then set out to speak to the stranger. In addition to the other five Edur, there were ten Letherii soldiers, two burdened wagons, and forty slaves shackled one to the next in a line behind the second wagon.

‘Do you wish company,’ the Merude asked, squinting to see more of that shadowed face, ‘for the climb to the pass? It’s said there remain bandits and renegades in the heights beyond.’

‘I am my own company.’

The voice was rough, the accent archaic.

The Merude halted three paces away. He could see more of that face, now. Edur features, more or less, yet white as snow. The eyes were… unnerving. Red as blood. ‘Then why do you block our path?’

‘You captured two Letherii two days back. They are mine.’

The Merude shrugged. ‘Then you should have kept them chained at night, friend. These Indebted will run at any opportunity. Fortunate for you that we captured them. Oh, yes-of course I will return them into your care. At least the girl-the man is an escaped slave from the Hiroth, or so his tattoos reveal. A Drowning awaits him, alas, but I will consider offering you a replacement. In any case, the girl, young as she is, is valuable. I trust you can manage the cost of retrieving her.’