would catch up to the myrid. Bivatt suspected the raiders would not lag behind to tend to the slower-moving beasts.
'Well, Atri-Preda?' Brohl Handar asked from behind her. 'Do we pursue?'
She did not turn round. 'No.'
'The Factor will be severely displeased by your decision.'
'And that concerns you?'
'Not in the least.'
She said nothing. The Overseer was growing more confident in his appointment. More confident, or less cautious – there had been contempt in the Tiste Edur's tone. Of course, that he had chosen to accompany this expedition was evidence enough of his burgeoning independence. For all of that, she almost felt sorry for the warrior.
'If this Redmask is conjuring demons of some sort,' Brohl Handar continued, 'then we had best move in strength, accompanied by both Letherii and Edur mages. Accordingly, I concur with your decision.'
'It pleases me that you grasp the military implications of this, Overseer. Even so, in this instance even the desires of the Factor are of no importance to me. I am first and foremost an officer of the empire.'
'You are, and I am the Emperor's representative in this region. Thus.'
She nodded.
A few heartbeats later the Tiste Edur sighed. 'It grieves me to see so many slain children.'
'Overseer, we are no less thorough when slaying the Awl.'
'That, too, grieves me.'
'Such is war,' she said.
He grunted, then said, 'Atri-Preda, what is happening on these plains is not simply war. You Letherii have initiated a campaign of extermination. Had we Edur elected to cross that threshold, would you not have called us barbarians in truth? You do not hold the high ground in this conflict, no matter how you seek to justify your actions.'
'Overseer,' Bivatt said coldly, 'I care nothing about justifications, nor moral high ground. I have been a soldier too long to believe such things hold any sway over our actions. Whatever lies in our power to do, we do.' She gestured at the destroyed encampment around them. 'Citizens of Lether have been murdered. It is my responsibility to give answer to that, and so I shall.'
'And who will win?' Brohl Handar asked.
'We will, of course.'
'No, Atri-Preda. You will lose. As will the Awl. The victors are men such as Factor Letur Anict. Alas, such people as the Factor view you and your soldiers little differently from how they view their enemies. You are to be used, and this means that many of you will die. Letur Anict does not care. He needs you to win this victory, but beyond that his need for you ends . . . until a new enemy is found. Tell me, do empires exist solely to devour? Is there no value in peace? In order and prosperity and stability and security? Are the only worthwhile rewards the stacks of coin in Letur Anict's treasury? He would have it so – all the rest is incidental and only useful if it serves him. Atri-Preda, you are in truth less than an Indebted. You are a slave – I am not wrong in this, for I am a Tiste Edur who possesses slaves. A slave, Bivatt, is how Letur Anict and his kind see you.'
'Tell me, Overseer, how would you fare without your slaves?'
'Poorly, no doubt.'
She turned about and walked back to her horse. 'Mount up. We're returning to Drene.'
'And these dead citizens of the empire? Do you leave their bodies to the vultures?'
'In a month even the bones will be gone,' Bivatt said, swinging onto her horse and gathering the reins. 'The whittle beetles will gnaw them all to dust. Besides, there is not enough soil to dig proper graves.'
'There are stones,' Brohl Handar noted.
'Covered in Awl glyphs. To use them would be to curse the dead.'
'Ah, so the enmity persists, so that even the ghosts war with each other. It is a dark world you inhabit, Atri-Preda.'
She looked down at him for a moment, then said, 'Are the shadows any better, Overseer?' When he made no reply, she said, 'On your horse, sir, if you please.'
The Ganetok encampment, swollen with the survivors of the Sevond and Niritha clans, sprawled across the entire valley. Beyond to the east loomed vast dun-hued clouds from the main herds in the next few valleys. The air was gritty with dust and the acrid smell of hearth fires. Small bands of warriors moved back and forth like gangs of thugs, weapons bristling, their voices loud.
Outriders had made contact with Redmask and his paltry tribe earlier in the day, yet had kept their distance, seemingly more interested in