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a man in such agony.'
    'Beetles?' Apium enquired.
    'Yes, some of it. He'd already lost up to his knee from the blast. I stopped the bleeding, left him here for a bit, and . . . well.'
    'At least it wasn't gheels. So, how many of us are left, sir?' Apium sat down on the ground beside Brynd with a groan.
    'You're looking at us.'
    'By the balls of the dragon gods of Varltung.' The captain shook his head.
    'I wouldn't mention that nation's name right now.'
    'You suspect it's them?'
    'Ah, who knows.'
    'So, what happened to you, commander?'
    'Think I was thrown right from the ship into the forest,' Brynd explained. 'But the trees must've broken my fall. How about you?'
    'I was on the shore when your ship . . . went up. Saw the archers heading into the forest, so I followed them. Got one of them, saw two others dead as I came back. I looked around for a catapult - because something must've propelled that fire - but there was nothing to see. Just an empty clearing. There were at least four of us on the shore - like, Gyn, Boldar, Awul - but they weren't there when I got back.'
    Silence.
    To see your comrades die was something to be expected in the army. It was tough, of course. You formed a close bond. Men became an extended family. You saw more of the world together than most lovers ever would. There would be mourning, that was certain, as there always was. Brynd couldn't let it get to him right now, though, so he placed the issue into a region of his mind that he would later revisit.
    'Any idea who did this?' Apium asked. 'Not the clansmen, I mean, but who actually planned it?'
    After a pause Brynd muttered, 'It's a set-up. Someone in Villjamur wanted this to happen.'
    'But why?'
    'So we're not properly prepared for the Freeze, I guess. Otherwise, no idea, really.'
    'Leaves us well screwed,' Apium continued. 'Do you think we should've brought a cultist along with us?'
    'It's all well and good saying that now, but everyone wanted to keep this low-key. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Cultists would've only drawn more attention. And they would've known too, which defeats the objective. Although why all this secrecy just for a bit of fuel? I realize Johynn wants us relying on them less. You know, he even told me before we came away that he suspected the cultists would bugger off to do their own thing during the ice age. It's not exactly classified information that he wants to be able to manage things without them, get used to them not being around. He might be a little weird at times, but there's some wisdom there, I'll say that much.'
    'Hmm.' Apium wore an expression of uncertainty. 'Still, would've helped though.'
    'I'm going to be asking some awkward questions when we get back home.'
    'So you think we're going to be in trouble?' Apium suggested.
    'It's not by any means an emergency. There's enough wood in the forests across the Empire to keep the home fires burning, for sure. This was more Johynn's doing. He was convinced the firegrain was needed - and you know what his mind's been like of late.'
    Apium stifled a laugh, then he pointed through the trees.
    Two moons could be seen between the tall hills rising either side of the fjord, one moon significantly larger than the other, and both an ethereal white, hanging low in the sky. Astrid, the smaller, appeared sometimes to be unnatural, as if it was made of some pale ore, out of place even - something Brynd felt an affinity for.
    The men stared for several moments. There was a sense of stillness. Stars gradually defined the hillside.
    'Looking nice tonight, aren't they?' Apium said. 'Strange to think they'll do it.'
    'What?'
    'The ice age. Strange to think just the moons are causing it.'
    'When you think about it logically--'
    'You see, that's your problem. I just said it's weird that it comes to that. You never just think plainly about stuff.'
    'It's not a plain world, captain.'
    'You need to get laid more often,' Apium grumbled, lying back flat on the ground, his arms behind his