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hundreds of myrid come over the hill, their black woolly
coats making them look like boulders as they poured down
the hillside, it was clear that the Factor's wealth had just
risen substantially. The taller rodara followed, blue-backed
and long-necked, their long tails thrashing about in near-panic
as wardogs on the herd's flanks plunged into feint
attacks again and again.
    The breath hissed from the Atri-Preda's teeth. 'Where is
the Factor's man, anyway? Those damned rodara are going
to stampede. Lieutenant! Get the handlers to call off their
hounds! Hurry!' The woman unstrapped her helm, pulled it
free and set it atop the saddle horn. She looked across at
Brohl. 'There you have it, Overseer.'
    'So these are the Awl.'
    She grimaced, looked away. 'A small camp by their standards.
Seventy-odd adults.'
    'Yet, large herds.'
    Her grimace became a scowl. 'They were once larger,
Overseer. Much larger.'
    'I take it then that this campaign of yours is succeeding
in driving away these trespassers.'
    'Not my campaign.' She seemed to catch something in
his expression for she added, 'Yes, of course, I command the
expeditionary forces, Overseer. But I receive my orders
from the Factor. And, strictly speaking, the Awl are not
trespassers.'
    'The Factor claims otherwise.'
    'Letur Anict is highly ranked in the Liberty Consign.'
    Brohl Handar studied the woman for a moment, then
said, 'Not all wars are fought for wealth and land,
Atri-Preda.'
    'I must disagree, Overseer. Did not you Tiste Edur invade
pre-emptively, in response to the perceived threat of lost
land and resources? Cultural assimilation, the end of your
independence. There is no doubt in my mind,' she continued,
'that we Letherii sought to obliterate your
civilization, as we had done already with the Tarthenal and
so many others. And so, an economic war.'
    'It does not surprise me, Atri-Preda, that your kind saw it
that way. And I do not doubt that such concerns were
present in the mind of the Warlock King. Did we conquer
you in order to survive? Perhaps.' Brohl considered saying
more, then he shook his head, watching as four wardogs
closed on a wounded cattle dog. The lame beast fought
back, but was soon down, kicking, then silent and limp as
the wardogs tore open its belly.
    Bivatt asked, 'Do you ever wonder, Overseer, which of us
truly won that war?'
    He shot her a dark look. 'No, I do not. Your scouts have
found no other signs of Awl in this area, I understand. So
now the Factor will consolidate the Letherii claim in the
usual fashion?'
    The Atri-Preda nodded. 'Outposts. Forts, raised roads.
Settlers will follow.'
    'And then, the Factor will extend his covetous
intentions, yet further east.'
    'As you say, Overseer. Of course, I am sure you recognize
the acquisitions gift the Tiste Edur as well. The empire's
territory expands. I am certain the Emperor will be pleased.'
    This was Brohl Handar's second week as governor of
Drene. There were few Tiste Edur in this remote corner
of Rhulad's empire, less than a hundred, and only his three
staff members were from Brohl's own tribe, the Arapay. The
annexation of Awl'dan by what amounted to wholesale
genocide had begun years ago – long before the Edur
conquest – and the particulars of rule in far Letheras
seemed to have little relevance to this military campaign.
Brohl Handar, the patriarch of a clan devoted to hunting
tusked seals, wondered – not for the first time – what he
was doing here.
    Titular command as Overseer seemed to involve little
more than observation. The true power of rule was with
Letur Anict, the Factor of Drene, who 'is highly ranked in the Liberty Consign' . Some kind of guild of merchants, he had
learned, although he had no idea what, precisely, was
liberating about this mysterious organization. Unless, of
course, it was the freedom to do as they pleased. Including
the use of imperial troops to aid in the acquisition of ever
more wealth.
    'Atri-Preda.'
    'Yes, Overseer?'
    'These Awl – do they fight