The Adjunct spoke. “You've been stationed here long, Captain?”

“Aye,” the man growled.

The woman waited, then asked, “How long?”

He hesitated. “Thirteen years, Adjunct.”

“You fought for the Emperor, then,” she said.

“Aye.”

“And survived the purge.”

The captain threw her a look. If she felt his gaze, she gave no indication.

Her eyes remained on the road ahead; she rolled easily in the saddle, the scabbarded longsword hitched high under her left arm-ready for mounted battle. Her hair was either cut short or drawn up under her helm, Her figure was lithe enough, the captain mused.

“Finished?” she asked. “I was asking about the purges commanded by Empress Laseen following her predecessor's untimely death.”

The captain gritted his teeth, ducked his chin to draw up the helm's strap-he hadn't had time to shave and the buckle was chafing. “Not everyone was killed, Adjunct. The people of Itko Kan aren't exactly excitable. None of those riots and mass executions that hit other parts of the Empire. We all just sat tight and waited.”

“I take it,” the Adjunct said, with a slight smile, “you're not noble-born, Captain.”

He grunted. “If I'd been noble-born, I wouldn't have survived, even here in Itko Kan. We both know that. Her orders were specific, and even the droll Kanese didn't dare disobey the Empress.” He scowled. “No, up through the ranks, Adjunct.”

“Your last engagement?”

“Wickan Plains.”

They rode on in silence for a time, passing the occasional soldier stationed on the road. Off to their left the trees fell away to ragged heather, and the sea beyond showed its white-capped expanse. The Adjunct spoke. “This area you've contained, how many of your guard have you deployed to patrol it?”

“Eleven hundred,” the captain replied.

Her head turned at this, her cool gaze tightening beneath the rim of her helm.

The captain studied her expression. “The carnage stretches half a league from the sea, Adjunct, and a quarter-league inland.”

The woman said nothing.

They approached the summit. A score of soldiers had gathered there, and others waited along the slope's rise. All had turned to watch them “Prepare yourself, Adjunct.”

The woman studied the faces lining the roadside. She knew these to be hardened men and women, veterans of the siege of Li Heng and the Wickan Wars out on the north plains. But something had been clawed into their eyes that had left them raw and exposed. They looked upon her with a yearning that she found disturbing, as if they hungered for answers. She fought the urge to speak to them as she passed, to offer whatever comforting words she could. Such gifts were not hers to give, however, nor had they ever been. In this she was much the same as the Empress.

From beyond the summit she heard the cries of gulls and crows, a sound that rose into a high-pitched roar as they reached the rise. Ignoring the soldiers on either side, the Adjunct moved her horse forward. The captain followed. They came to the crest and looked down. The road dipped here for perhaps a fifth of a league, climbing again at the far end to a promontory.

Thousands of gulls and crows covered the ground, spilling over into the ditches and among the low, rough heather and gorse. Beneath this churning sea of black and white the ground was a uniform red. Here and there rose the ribbed humps of horses, and from among the squalling birds came the glint of iron.

The captain reached up and unstrapped his helm. He lifted it slowly from his head, then set it down over his saddle horn. “Adjunct:”

“I am named Lorn,” the woman said softly.

“One hundred and seventy-five men and women. Two hundred and ten horses. The Nineteenth Regiment of the Itko Kanese Eighth Cavalry.”

The captain's throat tightened briefly. He looked at Lorn. “Dead.” His horse shied under him as it caught an updraught. He closed savagely on the reins and the animal stilled, nostrils wide and ears back, muscles trembling under him. The Adjunct's stallion made no move. “All had their weapons bared. All fought whatever enemy attacked them. But the dead are all ours.”

“You've checked the beach below?” Lorn asked, still staring down on the road.

“No signs of a landing,” the captain replied. “No tracks anywhere, neither seaward nor inland. There are more dead than these, Adjunct. Farmers, peasants, fisherfolk, travellers on the road. All of them torn apart, limbs scattered-children, livestock, dogs.” He stopped abruptly and turned away. “Over four hundred dead,” he grated. “We're not certain of the exact count.”