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buried.’
    ‘We are not judges! What happens to the people of these towns once the men get among them, hungry for plunder? Women and children, General, who had no part in any rebellion. We are better
than this.’
    ‘We are? You did not say so in Kadir. You persuaded me to sign that contract, if I recall.’
    ‘Well—’
    ‘And in Styria, was it not you who encouraged me to take back what was mine?’
    ‘You had a valid claim—’
    ‘Before we took ship to the North, you helped me persuade the men. You can be damned persuasive when you have a mind.’
    ‘Then let me persuade you now. Please, General Cosca. Do not sign.’
    There was a long pause. Cosca heaved in a breath, his forehead creasing yet more deeply. ‘A
conscientious
objection, then.’
    ‘Conscience is,’ muttered Temple hopefully, ‘a splinter of the divine?’ Not to mention a shitty navigator, and it had led him into some dangerous waters now. He realised
he was picking nervously at the hem of his shirt as Cosca gazed upon him. ‘I simply have a feeling this job . . .’ He struggled for words that might turn the tide of inevitability.
‘Will go bad,’ he finished, lamely.
    ‘Good jobs rarely require the services of mercenaries.’ Cosca’s hand squeezed a little tighter at his shoulder and Temple felt Friendly’s looming presence behind him.
Still, and silent, and yet very much
there
. ‘Men of conscience and conviction might find themselves better suited to other lines of work. His Majesty’s Inquisition offers a
righteous cause, I understand?’
    Temple swallowed as he looked across at Superior Pike, who had now attracted a twittering avian crowd. ‘I’m not sure I care for their brand of righteousness.’
    ‘Well, that’s the thing about righteousness,’ murmured Cosca, ‘everyone has their own brand. Gold, on the other hand, is universal. In my considerable experience, a man
is better off worrying about what is good for his purse than what is simply . . . good.’
    ‘I just—’
    Cosca squeezed still more firmly. ‘Without wishing to be harsh, Temple, it isn’t all about
you
. I have the welfare of the whole company to think of. Five hundred
men.’
    ‘Five hundred and twelve,’ said Friendly.
    ‘Plus one with dysentery. I cannot inconvenience them for the sake of your
feelings
. That would be . . .
immoral
. I need you, Temple. But if you wish to leave . . .’
Cosca issued a weighty sigh. ‘In spite of all your promises, in spite of my generosity, in spite of everything we have been through together, well . . .’ He held out an arm towards
burning Mulkova and raised his brows. ‘I suppose the door is always open.’
    Temple swallowed. He could have left. He could have said he wanted no part of this. Enough is enough, damn it! But that would have taken courage. That would have left him with no armed men at
his back. Alone, and weak, and a victim once again. That would have been hard to do. And Temple always took the easy way. Even when he knew it was the wrong way. Especially then, in fact, since
easy and wrong make such good company. Even when he had a damn good notion it would end up being the hard way, even then. Why think about tomorrow when today is such a thorny business?
    Perhaps Kahdia would have found some way to stop this. Something involving supreme self-sacrifice, most likely. Temple, it hardly needed to be said, was not Kahdia. He wiped away a fresh sheen
of sweat, forced a queasy smile onto his face and bowed. ‘I remain always honoured to serve.’
    ‘Excellent!’ And Cosca plucked the contract from Temple’s limp hand and spread it out to sign upon a sheered-off column.
    Superior Pike stood, brushing crumbs from his shapeless black coat and sending birds scattering. ‘Do you know what’s out there, in the west?’
    He let the question hang a moment. Below them the faint jingling, groaning, snapping could be heard of his Practicals dragging the prisoners away. Then he answered