‘Yes, sir, I could, though the body’s starting to swell up some.’

‘But if you did and Gurren was cleared of suspicion, you’d be left with one choice-’

‘Yes, sir, and it’s a rumour already out here. Going after Gurren would make it worse, if you see what I mean. Worse for Lord Urusander. Worse for the Legion.’

‘You’ve thought this through, Yeld.’

The sergeant shrugged. ‘We can’t make it go away, sir, but we can let it rust.’

Serap swung into the saddle. ‘I will report all this to Lord Urusander.’

‘All of it?’

‘All that he needs to hear. There’s been a murder. No witnesses and no suspects. The rest is just base speculation. The loss of a mason’s apprentice will be a hardship on the family, and no doubt the mason, too, and we both know that the commander will do what’s necessary to ease their loss.’

The sergeant nodded up at her. ‘Very good, lieutenant. Oh, and welcome.’

She eyed him jadedly at that, but he seemed sincere. She edged her horse past the wagon and then through the crowd. The mood around her wasn’t yet ugly, which was something. She did not envy Yeld and his squad.

Riding on, she drew opposite Gurren’s stone house and reined in. She eyed the shuttered windows, and then the faint wisps of smoke rising from the chimney. Dismounting, Serap left her horse standing on the track and made her way to the front door. She thumped on the blackwood.

There was no response.

Serap waited for a time and then made her way round to the back yard. Pushing through the gate, she saw Gurren hunched over the forge, stirring the coals.

She approached, but from one side, to give him the opportunity to see her. He offered up a single glance then returned to his work.

‘Old Smith,’ she said. ‘We’ve not met, but I know of you and, of course, of your wife. You have my deepest sympathies.’

He made no reply.

‘Gurren, where is your daughter?’

‘In the house.’

‘She does not come to the door.’

‘Ain’t surprised.’

‘Why?’

He faced her. He was not as old as his local title suggested, but he was bowed; the muscles from a lifetime with hammer and tongs were still visible but the skin around them was slack, as if he had been ill for a long time. The watery grey eyes were like broken glass. He spat yellow mucus on to the ground and said, ‘Night before last she barely made it back to the door, beaten half t’death. Witch Hale comes over and works on her, and comes out and tells me. Broken jaw, broken cheekbone; won’t see good outa her left eye ever again.’

‘Someone killed the man who did that, Gurren.’

‘I know. Hale got the girl to talk.’

‘What did she say?’

Gurren’s face was impossibly flat, impossibly empty of all expression. ‘From what Hale could make out, Urusander’s lad plucked her, but tenderly. But Millick saw enough to guess and took the rest out on her. And now Millick’s dead, choked in North Lane last night, and Osserc’s gone.’

‘That’s right,’ Serap said, seeing no need to dissemble. ‘Some rumours are going around that you might have been the one doing the killing.’

Gurren nodded. ‘I set those out, lieutenant.’

‘To muddy the trail.’

He eyed her, and then said, ‘I been holding a long hate for your lord, and your Legion that saw my wife killed, taken from me and Renarr.’

She nodded. ‘Poets have written of Urusander’s grief over your wife’s death.’

‘Poets can go fuck themselves.’

‘Well…’

‘I’m dying,’ Gurren said. ‘Witch Hale says it’s too late. Had my doubts about Millick all along, but she was set on him, you see, and with me leaving and all…’

‘I’m sorry how it turned out-’

‘I’d be a lot sorrier,’ he snapped, ‘leavin’ her to a lifetime of beatings and maybe worse. So it’s like this. I owe Osserc and if I could, why, I’d kneel before him, take that murdering hand of his, and kiss it.’

Serap stared, struck silent.

Gurren turned back to the forge. ‘Tell your lord this, lieutenant. Between us, now, the water is clear.’

‘I will tell him,’ she whispered.

‘But I want my daughter taken care of.’

She nodded. ‘I will swear to that.’

He shot her a hard look. ‘Legion vow?’