‘A thousand?’ Stenwold frowned. ‘I hadn’t heard… Who are they? What is this?’

‘What it is, Sten, is an army,’ Salma said. ‘And who they are depends on who you ask. Deserters, brigands, farmhands, tinkers, lapsed Way Brothers, more and more all the time. The one thing they have in common is that the Wasp Empire is their enemy.’

‘Well, then, the Empire is all of our enemies,’ Stenwold pointed out. ‘I don’t see…’

‘Many of them were slaves,’ Salma explained, leaving a moment’s pause for that statement to echo. ‘Many more are renegades. They trust me, and I am responsible for them. I have not gathered them just to hand them over to Sarn or Collegium as an expendable militia. They are my people, a people in their own right. I call them my New Mercers, but the name they see most often is the Lands-army. We will fight the Empire, Sten, but if the war is won, we will not just disband and return to burned-out farmhouses and servitude or punishment. That is what I will talk to the Queen of Sarn about, and what I will talk to you about, in due course, but… things are now different between us. No fault of yours, but events are in the way. I owe these people my service, just as a prince should.’

‘I understand,’ Stenwold said. ‘Perhaps I begin to, anyway. Your emissaries will always be welcome at Collegium.’ He glanced down at Che, who was looking suddenly unsure.

‘Salma…’ she began.

‘I’m sorry, Che. You’ve seen a little of my work here. You must appreciate my position.’

‘But you could die, if the Wasps catch you. And they’ll try, Salma.’