‘If it’s a feint, it’s a magnificently coordinated one,’ said Flydd. ‘How can they do that over such distances?’ No one answered. ‘We’d better get the other thapters armed and in the air,’ he went on.

‘Everything’s ready,’ said Troist. ‘We just don’t know where to send them.’

By mid-morning it had begun to rain, and it became heavier as the day wore on. They still had no idea what was happening. The attacking lyrinx could have numbered hundreds, or thousands. More conflicts broke out until the borders of Borgistry were ringed by skirmishes.

Finally, around the middle of the day, came the news they had been dreading.

‘General!’ Even through the rumble of the farspeaker they could hear the terror. ‘It’s Captain Maks. We’re still well south of Lybing. There are enemy everywhere.’

‘Are you using the light blasters?’

‘Yes, but we don’t have enough to make a difference. There’s thousands of the enemy, surr! They’re coming –’

The farspeaker cut off and they could not raise him again.

‘Doesn’t mean they’re lost,’ said Troist eventually, but there was a blank look in his eye that Nish had not seen since they’d first met, just after the ruinous defeat at Nilkerrand.

Flydd seized the globe. ‘Thapters, report! Who’s the nearest to Clew’s Top?’

A full minute passed before a youthful voice said, ‘It’s Chissmoul, surr.’

‘Who’s Chissmoul, Nish?’ Flydd said out of the corner of his mouth.

‘Chissmoul is the one who doesn’t have Yggur’s eyes. The rather … exuberant flier.’

‘Oh, that one. Downright reckless, I would have said. What’s she doing down there?’

‘Patrolling.’

Flydd turned back to the globe. ‘Chissmoul, go down carefully to where the soldiers are. Tell me what you see.’

They heard nothing for a good half-hour, then Chissmoul called back. She wasn’t exuberant now. Her voice quavered. ‘I’ve found them, surr. I have them with me.’

‘What the blazes are you talking about, Pilot?’ said Flydd.

‘The survivors. I have both of them.’

‘Both? There were two thousand soldiers and eighty clankers.’

There was a long silence.

‘Chissmoul?’

‘None of the clankers are moving, surr. All the soldiers are dead and the enemy has gone.’

Troist turned to Flydd, but Flydd couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Gone where?’ said Nish, leaning towards the farspeaker globe.

‘They’re heading north, towards Lybing,’ said Chissmoul.

‘How many?’

‘More than two thousand. Surr.’

‘Follow them, but keep out of catapult range,’ said Troist, tapping the farspeaker to indicate that he’d finished. ‘What do we do now?’ he cried. ‘Do we let them slaughter our scattered forces, man by man, then fall on defenceless Lybing while we sit here watching for phantoms?’

‘Lybing is a walled city defended by an army of ten thousand,’ Flydd said.

‘If the enemy send just half of their fifty-seven thousand against Lybing, they’ll take it before we can get there.’

‘Tiaan?’ called the scrutator after changing the setting of the farspeaker. ‘It’s Flydd. What’s happening?’

‘The depression in the field is still moving towards Ossury.’

Flydd paced back and forth, his lips moving. He cast a glance at the general, who was staring at the wall. Flydd sat down with head in hands. Nish was glad the decision wasn’t his to make.

‘My men are dying, Scrutator,’ said Troist. ‘If you’re wrong, the three rivers of Lybing will flow red for a week. You’re gambling everything on Tiaan and, to be frank, her history doesn’t inspire confidence. Wasn’t she out of her mind in Nennifer?’

He pressed his knuckles into his stomach, his face grey with pain. Nish passed over the flask containing Troist’s latest remedy, a noxious yellow potion. Troist swigged half a flask, though it seemed no more efficacious than the green sludge he’d resorted to previously.

Flydd bit his lip. ‘Tiaan has never let me down. Besides, Malien is with her. We hold firm for another hour.’

The farspeaker emitted a farting burp. ‘Xervish Flydd,’ said a deadly voice whose tones came through quite unchanged. ‘Grand Commander Orgestre here. This is madness. Will you twiddle your thumbs until the enemy have destroyed us all?’

‘It’s a feint,’ said Flydd desperately. ‘As soon as we turn south they’ll be onto us.’

‘You’ve lost your mind. You are dismissed from command of our forces.’

‘I don’t hold command, and if the governor and the generals no longer have confidence in me they can say so.’

‘General Troist,’ said Orgestre, shrilly. ‘I order you to take Flydd into custody and render him up to me. You are to come south at once and defend Lybing.’

‘You don’t have the power to give orders to me, Orgestre,’ said Troist, who had gone the colour of his elixir. ‘My army is not from Borgistry.’

‘Then who do you obey, surr?’ Orgestre ground out. ‘Think carefully before you answer. You know the penalty for treason.’

Troist took a long time to answer. ‘I do know the penalty, surr, and I take my orders from Xervish Flydd, the head of the Council of Scrutators. He has asked me to wait another hour, and wait I will.’

‘You will regret this, General Troist.’

‘We may all regret it, surr, though not for very long.’

‘I hope I can repay your trust,’ said Flydd after Orgestre had gone.

Troist sank the rest of the potion and continued to knuckle his rebellious belly. The hour passed with agonising slowness. More reports came in, of isolated squads slaughtered to the last man.

Nish turned the hourglass, setting it down with a clatter.

Flydd’s eyes flicked to the glass. ‘I’ll contact Tiaan again.’

‘And if there is no concrete news?’ said Troist.

‘I fear we must turn back to Lybing. Tiaan?’ he called.

‘Still the same,’ Tiaan’s voice came clearly over the whine of the thapter.

‘Can I speak to Malien?’

‘Yes, Xervish?’ said Malien.

‘The enemy are attacking all around the borders. We’ve lost thousands of men already and if they’re really heading for Lybing …’

‘Are you asking me to back up Tiaan’s report?’

‘If she’s wrong, Lybing will be destroyed and the west will fall. I need confirmation.’

‘I’m not able to see the effect that Tiaan has reported,’ said Malien, ‘but I have no reason to doubt her.’

‘In any respect?’ A river of sweat ran down Flydd’s cheek.

‘If you’re questioning her sanity, have the goodness to speak plainly.’

‘The world is at stake here, Malien.’

‘Then you have quite a decision to make,’ she said coldly. The farspeaker cut off.

Flydd wiped his face with a rag that was already drenched with sweat. ‘What am I to do, Nish? How am I to decide?’

‘I don’t know, surr.’

‘The effect Tiaan’s seeing must be a decoy – a spread-out group of lyrinx carrying node-drainers. They’ve lured us here so they can destroy the rest of Borgistry unhindered. That has to be it. I can’t delay any longer. Order the turnabout, General.’

Troist sprang to the farspeaker and changed the setting. ‘Captains, this is General Troist. Turn back to Lybing immediately. Follow Plan Three.’

The orders had just been repeated when the farspeaker squealed.

‘This is Tiaan. I can see the enemy, surr. Surr?’

Flydd jumped out of his seat. ‘Where are they?’

‘They’re coming out of the forest in their thousands, from the point where the Great North Road meets the forest, then west for a couple of leagues. There’s thousands of them.’

After a long pause, Malien added, ‘I’d say tens of thousands.’

‘Thank you! Thank you, Tiaan and Malien. Stay on watch.’ There were tears in Flydd’s eyes. He embraced Troist and then Nish. ‘To war!’

‘To war,’ said Troist, then snatched the farspeaker globe.

‘Captains. General Troist again. Ignore the last order. The enemy are coming from the forest north of Ossury, from the Great North Road west for several leagues. This is the main attack. Put Plan Six into action.’ He broke off and ran to the door. ‘Guards, the war begins. Ready the command-centre defences.’ He came inside and buckled on his armour, made from boiled leather, and his steel helmet.