The Old Guard veteran may not have led part of the siege against Heng, but he had abetted it. Now, he rubbed a gouged and scarred hand over his head, grimaced something resembling discomfort. ‘We, ah, come to join up.’

‘Join?’

‘Yes. ‘Gainst Ryllandaras. We want his head.’

‘Why?’

‘We saw the field hospital, lass,’ Braven Tooth said.

Urko nodded. ‘Word of it came to me after the battle. I went and saw the remains. Hundreds of wounded soldiers massacred. Unarmed men and women. He made a mistake there. No one does that and gets away with it.’

‘We're after him, with or without you,’ Temp said, matter-of-fact.

They would too – just these four. Oponn forefend! They may have a chance now.

Hurl gave a noncommittal bob of her head. ‘We'll see. Welcome, for now.’ She waved them into camp.

She found Liss out walking alone on the prairie. The grass caught at her many-layered skirts. The brisk wind pulled at her thick, matted curls of hair. Her arms, bare, showed thick veins, red angry sores, and bulged with fat. Hurl came close to her, found her gazing down at the ground, prodding the dirt with one sandalled foot. ‘What is it?’

She took a deep breath, looked away as if studying the horizon, but her gaze was inward. ‘Word came last night from Silk. Storo's dead.’

Hurl stared. ‘What?’

Liss's dark eyes captured hers. ‘A bone infection. Not caught in time. Ryllandaras's wounds are – notoriously virulent. I'm sorry. They want you back, Hurl. To rebuild. Perhaps you should leave this to Urko and his friends. I know who those two are. They may just be up to it.’

But Hurl lurched away. No. It wasn't true. When she'd last seen him he was alive. Weak, yes. But recovering. This wasn't true. She pushed through the thick grass seeing nothing. They wanted her back? To rebuild? That's a joke. She'd destroyed everything. Released a monster that was the greatest mass murderer of men and women known. And what of this curse? True or not? Of those who'd participated in his release who was now left? She, Silk and Rell. Yet, when Liss had met her, she'd called her builder. And her attitude to Rell? Looking back now: a kind of reverence? Admiration? She stopped walking. What if Liss really was a seeress, patroness of seers?

She spun and walked straight up to the woman, who turned her face, would not meet her gaze. ‘Have you seen us succeed? Will we defeat Ryllandaras?’

Chin pulled in, her puffed pale face rounded, Liss said slowly, ‘I have seen one way you may succeed.’

‘Good enough.’ Hurl went to find Sergeant Banath.

Tracking him down she ordered him to return with the cavalry column. She'd only retain a small guard. He objected, of course. Refused to go. But she would not yield and so eventually, later that day, two columns set out. The far larger one south-west, the much smaller one north-west.

Over the next few days Hurl established a kind of an accord with her mount. She came to accept that perhaps the mare wasn't going to do her in for the affront of actually riding her. And for her part, she would admit that perhaps the breed of horse had some claim to worthy service among humanity.

The morning of the third day Liss announced that he'd been close that night; that he'd been watching them. Hurl imagined he was probably trying to figure out whether they were merely appallingly overconfident or might actually pose a threat. Liss believed he would either strike that next night or dismiss them and return to hunting. She said she intended to draw him in.

Liss gave the orders for the preparations that night. She'd been close to the Seti warrior, Sweetgrass, these last few days, talking often and long, and now the man carried a very different expression on his brutal features from the glower he arrived with. He actually appeared thoughtful – if that were possible.

She had them gather wood through the day for a towering bonfire. As evening came she set the few remaining regulars to guarding the horses and motioned Hurl to accompany them.

Hurl just stared, unmoving.

‘Go on, Hurl. You're no veteran like these. You have to stand aside.’

‘I can fight as well as anyone.’

‘No one questions that. Please. It's important to me.’

Hurl waved to the south where they planned to hobble the horses a safe distance away. ‘You want me way over there? Fine! I'll go. But as soon as I hear anything I'm coming!’

‘Thank you.’

Urko walked up, nodded to Liss. ‘Evening's coming.’ He tucked his broad spade-like hands up under his armpits. The man's giant arms were as wide as Hurl's thighs. ‘Amaron tells me we should give your plan a go.’ He cocked a brow. ‘So, what is it?’

‘You men should lie low in a broad circle around the bonfire. When Ryllandaras comes, encircle him. Keep him close to the fire. If you keep him close he won't escape.’

‘Really?’ The man's fleshy mouth drew down in disbelief. ‘Just like that?’

‘Yes. If you do your part and don't let him past you.’

‘Oh, we'll do our part – you can count on that.’ And he walked off scratching his head.

Hurl listened to all this with a jaded frown. ‘What about you? Where will you be?’

‘I'll be at the fire, Hurl.’

‘The fire?’ Hurl glanced out to the gathering dusk. ‘With him? What kind of a plan is that? Why should he come to the fire? Didn't you say he's an opportunist? Why not attack the regulars at the horses?’

The woman actually gave a shy, modest smile. ‘Because I'll summon him.’

Hurl stared, hardly believing what she was hearing. ‘You'll summon him? What kind of nonsense is that? He'll tear you to pieces.’

The woman's smile grew. ‘Not so long as I dance, Hurl.’

‘Dance?’ Hurl turned to call to the others. ‘Rell, talk some sense to her. You know what he can do!’

Scratching his cheek, Sweetgrass rumbled, ‘The old Seti legends say-’

‘Oh, shut up!’

Liss took her arm. ‘It's all right, Hurl. I can do this. You forget who I am… seeress and dawn-dancer.’

Were, you mean. Hurl looked her up and down. ‘Liss – sorry to say this, but you are no young thing any more.’

The old woman's laugh was coarse and loud. ‘The beauty isn't in me, Hurl. It's in the magic of the dance. Now go – see to the horses.’

Blasted horses! What do I care about horses? But she went.

Rell jogged over, following her. ‘Do not worry. If the beast shows, we'll all close in on him and bring him down.’

‘Thanks. Watch out for her.’

‘Yes.’

‘And warn Urko and his boys I'm gonna come – and I'll come loaded!’

‘Yes, Hurl. We've all seen your pack.’

‘Right. Well, OK then. Burn favour you.’

‘We Seguleh do not accept the idea of luck or chance, but thank you just the same.’ The man jogged away.

Hurl glared at the horses and her men. Horses. I can't believe I'm guarding Hood-damned horses.

Night came. Hurl set out a watch order then sat down to pack her shoulder-bag. Sharpers – as many as she could fit. And two – no, three cussors. That should send him on his way to the Abyss. Every noise from the dark yanked her to her feet. She scanned the dark. Liss's bonfire lit an intervening rise in bright silhouette against the night. She sat back down again, checked her weapons for the umpteenth time.

The horses nickered nervously, shifted, pulled at their staked hobblings. The men moved among them, calming, whispering. Hurl strained silent, listening. Had that been something? A noise? Distant rumbling?

A sudden grating snarl made her jump. The horses shrieked, kicking and rearing, entangling in their ropes. ‘See to them!’ she shouted and, grabbing her shoulder-bag, ran. Puffing, one arm pumping, the other supporting the stuffed shoulder-bag, she made the rise, started down.

Ahead, between her and the roaring bonfire shooting its sparks into the night sky an elemental vision confronted her: men, arms outstretched, shuffling side to side, closing in on a monster rearing some three times their height, slashing, bellowing. Beyond the fire the shape of Liss, dancing, circling the fire, turning, arms above her head twisting, somehow always opposite the monster no matter which way it lurched to reach.