the summit of the hill to stand beside Vick, staring out at the valley. “We have been experimenting in the Far Country for several years now.” He watched the crews drag brush around the maws of the great iron tubes to hide them from sight. “And have found that cannons are like birthday presents. Best kept as a surprise.”
“I’ve never liked surprises,” said Vick.
“I suspect the enemy will feel the same.”
“Your Eminence!”
Two dark figures came across the hillside. One had a torch and a mask. The other was a boy, stumbling along with hands tied behind him. A Practical and a prisoner.
“Caught him trying to run.” The Practical shoved the lad down on his knees in front of Pike, the wind ruffling his curly hair. Couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Looked younger. Tallow swallowed and slowly shrank back into the darkness.
“Dear, dear.” Pike took a long breath and squatted beside the boy, torchlight glistening on the shiny burned skin on the side of his face. “Do you know who I am?”
The lad nodded, mouth hanging dumbly open. He looked up at Vick, and took a long sniff, then looked down at the ground between his knees. He must’ve known what was coming. And yet he just sat there.
“Which unit are you with?”
“Lord Crant’s regiment,” he croaked out. “I’m a loader. I load flatbows. Well, I just crank ’em.” Once he’d started talking he couldn’t seem to stop. “My friend Gert puts the bolts in, then hands ’em back to—”
“Shush,” said Pike, softly. There was silence then, and the wind stirred the grass, and Vick found she was wincing. The boy would make a good example, to keep the others at their posts. There was a tree near the summit with a low bough that would be just right. If they’ll hang a boy for running, who won’t they hang?
“Gert stayed,” whispered the boy, “but I… I don’t want to die.”
Pike turned towards those thousands of pinprick lights, twinkling in the valley. “Faced with something on this scale, there could be no more rational response than to run away. But sometimes… we must do things that are not rational. Sometimes we must act on faith.” Pike stared at the lad and the lad stared back, the Practical looming dark over both. “Sometimes… even as the world goes mad… we must crouch next to Gert and load flatbows.”
Another silence. Then the lad’s knobbly throat shifted as he swallowed. “I’d like to do that.”
“Good.” Pike set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Go back to Lord Crant’s regiment, then.” He nodded to the Practical, and the Practical cut the ropes on the boy’s wrists.
“What do I tell them?”
“That you got lost, but I guided you back to the right path. Isn’t that the truth?”
The boy wiped tears on his sleeve. “That’s the truth.”
“This time, for both our sakes, you should stay at your post.”
The boy jumped up like an eager puppy. “I’ll stay there if hell comes up the hill in the morning!”
“I suppose it very well might,” murmured Pike as he watched him scurry away. “You look surprised, Inquisitor.”
“I was expecting something… harsher,” said Vick. “From your reputation.”
“I find reputations rarely fit people all that well. What are they, after all, but costumes we put on to disguise ourselves?” The mottled skin above his hairless brows twitched as he gave her uniform a glance. “Costumes we are forced to put on. If men are to be productive, they must have something to fear. That is why we have an Inquisition. I like to tell myself that every life I have taken has saved five more. Fifty more, perhaps. Not everyone has the stomach for that kind of arithmetic.” His eyes gleamed with the Practical’s torch. “It is one thing I admire about you, Inquisitor Teufel. One cannot come through the camps without developing a very strong stomach.”
Vick said nothing as the boy vanished over the crest of the hill, a black figure against the dark sky.
“I understand cowards,” said Pike softly. “I used to be one. Who among us never had a weak moment, after all? It cannot all be darkness. We must have a little mercy.” He leaned sideways to whisper it. “As long as no one sees.”
Broad sat and polished his armour. Didn’t need polishing. Brand new from the armoury at Ostenhorm. But it helps to have a routine. He used to do it out in Styria, the long nights before the long dawns. Kept him calm. That and