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announced Ullsaard. He stood up in his saddle and raised his arms. "As you can see, I am alive and well. My death has been misreported."
      As soon as the words had left his lips, Ullsaard regretted them. He had not been thinking straight, and it had been another mistake to announce his presence. It was too late now. One villager would talk to another, and they would meet folk from other towns at the next market, and word would spread. This was gossip-worthy news. Twofold, in fact, for not only was King Ullsaard not dead, they had heard it from the mouth of the great man himself who had stayed at their inn. Such news would spread like wildfire and soon would come to the ears of the Brotherhood. As such, they would pass on the report of Ullsaard's return and it would come back to Urikh, or at least it would come to the attention of Lakhyri.
      The king muttered a collection of his least eloquent swear words as he tried to think of some way to salvage the situation. He could think of nothing to take back the words that were already rippling through the gathered villagers.
      "Enough of this chatter," he declared. "Now that we are properly introduced, I insist that I stay for the night. Warn your innkeeper and find food for my men, tonight there shall be another feast."
     

II
    The smoke from the fireplace was backing up, spilling from the chimney into the room. Gelthius' eyes stung, but he stood to attention as best he could while ignoring the fumes choking his throat. He also ignored the smirks from the bartender wiping a cloth across his counter just in the eyeline of the third captain. The man busied himself cleaning the kegs and demijohns arrayed on the shelf behind the bar, while a younger woman swept old straw from the floor. She was probably his daughter; both of them had raven black hair and startling blue eyes.
      From outside came the clatter of hammers on nails and the rasp of saws as the people of Genladen made ready for the king's festivities. Inside the tavern, groups of boys and girls sat at two of the long tables garlanding what flowers, leaves and berries they had been able to find in the foothills; given the lateness of the season there was more gold and brown than yellow and blue.
      The door behind the counter was propped open by a barrel, letting out a steady cloud of steam, and the smell of roasting meat caused Gelthius' stomach to grumble loudly. Rabbit, fish and legion rations had been his fare since the late summer. Even on the night they had taken Carantathi there had been too much to do to secure the city, and he'd eaten only sparsely. Gelthius had probably been better fed on Anglhan's landship. His stomach rumbled again as another waft of roasting pork reached him. This was greeted by chuckles from his companions.
      Beside Gelthius Sergeant Muuril waited with Gebriun, Loordin and Faalin. All five of the soldiers turned their gazes diligently straight ahead as King Ullsaard entered the common room. The king wafted a hand in front of his face, scowling at the smoke. He turned towards the innkeeper and called out in his best parade ground bellow.
      "I can't see my hand in front of my fucking face in here! Get that chimney cleaned before I return."
      With that simple instruction, Ullsaard gestured for his men to follow him out into the courtyard behind the inn. There were a few stools arranged in the shade of a tree – not that the sun had much strength left to it. The king sat on one of the stools and signalled for Gelthius and the others to do the same on the others.
      Gelthius had no idea what the king wanted them for. He had approached Gelthius at the second hour of Dawnwatch as he was taking up the lead of the guard, and had asked that he attend him at Noonwatch with four of his most reliable men. So here they were, all of them eager to know what Ullsaard had in store for them.
      "You're leaving the Thirteenth," said the king, much to the surprise of the legionnaires.