‘It may not even give us that,’ said Gwyn. ‘They want Sigarni too. They may just take you, and keep the hostages.’
‘I’ve thought of that,’ said Fell. ‘Let us hope there is a spark of honour in the Baron.’
‘You’re doing the right thing, Fell,’ said Bakris. ‘I’d do the same in your place.’
‘Then let’s move on,’ said Fell. ‘One more hill, lads, and we’ll be home.’
The five men trudged up the hill, cresting it just as the sun was turning to blood over the western mountain peaks. In the distance they could see the line of the wall around Citadel town, and the tall ramparts of the keep beyond.
By the north gate, in cages outside the wall, hung four bodies, and crows were thick around them. At this distance it was impossible to recognize faces, but all knew the worn-out black dress worn by the Widow Maffrey. ‘God’s heart!’ whispered Grame. ‘They’ve killed them already! But it has only been two days! They promised a week.’
‘A spark of honour, you said, Fell,’ muttered Gwyn. ‘Now we all see what Outland honour is worth.’
‘They’ll pay for this a thousandfold,’ said Fell. ‘I swear it!’
Sigarni, her red cloak wrapped around her shoulders, sat on the mock ramparts of Asmidir’s castle home and stared out over the rolling hills and woodlands to the south. Asmidir stood alongside her, leaning on the crenellated grey stone parapet. ‘You understand your purpose?’ he asked her.
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice cold. ‘I am to kill Outlanders.’
Angrily he swung on her. ‘No! that is the first lesson you must learn. War is not just a game of killing. Any commander who thinks in this way will be destroyed, if not by the enemy then by his – or her – own troops.’
‘Troops? Are you insane?’ she stormed. ‘There are no soldiers, there is no army. There is only Sigarni. And all I live for now is to kill as many as I can.’ Pushing herself to her feet she faced him, her own pale eyes locked to his dark orbs. ‘You can have no understanding of what they did to me, or what they took from me. You are a man. This whole world has been created for your pleasures, while women are here merely for sport — either that or to carry your brats for nine months, ready to feed more souls to your games of slaughter in years to come. Well, Asmidir, Sigarni will carry no brats, but she mil play your game.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘You cannot play until you know what you are playing for. You must have an objective, Sigarni. How else can you plan?’
‘An objective?’ she mocked. ‘I am alone, Asmidir. What would you have me do? Where is my army? You want an objective? To free the Highlands of Outland rule, to drive the enemy back into their own lands and beyond. To lead a hundred thousand men deep into their territory and sack their capital. Is that enough of an objective?’
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Now examine how you will plan for this objective.’
Sigarni rose and faced him. ‘I have no time for worthless games. There is no army.’
‘Then build one,’ he said, sternly.
Spinning on her heel Sigarni strode along the rampart, climbing down the stone stairway to the courtyard. A servant bowed as she passed him. Moving on, she entered the house where Ballistar was standing before the stuffed bear, staring up at it. ‘It’s so lifelike,’ said the dwarf. ‘Don’t you think?’
Ignoring him, she walked into the hall and seated herself in a wide leather armchair set before the log fire. Asmidir followed her, with Ballistar just behind.
‘Why are they bowing to me?’ demanded Sigarni. ‘All of them. They don’t speak … but they bow.’
‘I ordered them to,’ said Asmidir. ‘You must become familiar with such treatment. From now to the end of your life you will be separated from the common man. You will become a queen, Sigarni.’
‘The Whore Queen, is that it? Is that how you see me, Asmidir? Or was it some other black bastard who named me a harlot?’