San leaving the Castle signifies the end of the world. Everyone knows that myth. It has been embedded in the Empire since the Circle was founded. But it didn’t specify how the world was supposed to end, or the means of god’s return.

There’s no evidence, one side of me said; you’ve studied it long enough and you know it’s no more than a fable. My other side replied: how long do we have? Days?

I called the lancers of Rachiswater, the longbow men of Micawater, the swords of Peregrine. I called the famed cavalry of Eske. I called the Cathee axe men, the spears of Brandoch, the Litanee pikemen and Awndyn halberdiers. The brave Fescue shield fyrd I called, the Hacilith crossbow men, the horse archers of Ghallain. I called the General and Select Fyrd of every manor. The governors heard the emphasis in my voice and saw the panic in my eye, and took up their arms.

By the time I returned from Carniss, the Select of Awia was already packed on the roads, marching under the manors’ colours. Ahead of them, great trebuchets and espringals were trundling from Lowespass Fortress, escorted by the hard-bitten troops of the garrison. The roads from the Avernwater workshops were clogged with flamethrower carts, and barrels of tar were en route from the Lacksheen tar pits. Every troop-carrying caravel in Diw and Cobalt weighed her anchor and stretched her sails.

It was a full mobilisation. Two people from each family, male or female, from the ages of sixteen to fifty, must answer the call. I spoke to the governors, who spoke to their stewards, who spoke to their reeves; who spoke to farmhands and cottars, so that by the day following my visit, everyone had heard my news.

In the city, desks were set up in factory halls and under awnings in the market place. People of every walk of life soaked from the streets towards them, frightened by the urgency of Aver-Falconet’s announcements. He sent couriers galloping out across Morenzia to the townships at the coast.

As I glided over the Plains I saw queues of men mustering to the General Fyrd in manor hall courtyards, the porches of reeves’ houses and the village greens. Every man realised there was nothing for it but to join the queue and, at the front, sign your name and pick up a shield and sword or poleaxe from the mounds unloaded from the carts from Wrought. Or if you’re Select Fyrd, take down your heirloom breastplate and broadsword from the bedroom cupboard. A night’s work with sand and oil will restore it to service.

The sheer number of people moving took my breath away. The storehouses of Wrought were turning out crates of weapons by the neat ten thousand into a seemingly endless coming-and-going of covered wagons. Horses and carts appeared singly from scattered farms, convened by the thousand to fill whole fields, then each rank decanted out onto the road. Anything could happen. Everything was happening! The scale of the effort astounded me. Carnival girls turned entrepreneurs walked up and down the long queues of traffic dammed up outside Shivel, selling food and drink.

I have put all these people in motion myself! The power of my words filled me with exhilaration. I dropped from the sky onto a different manor each day, and people upwelled in my wake and channelled out to fill the highways all the way to Slake Cross.

When I returned to Slake Cross, we gathered in the hall. The Insect flights had ceased but the valley was swarming with them. Rayne and Cyan had managed to ride through and had been here two weeks. I heard that Cyan was already antagonising her father and had offended nearly every Eszai.

Lightning crouched down and held a wooden taper in the hearth. Shielding it with his cupped hand he crossed to the table and touched the taper to the rope wick of an oil lamp. He turned down the wick until the smoky flame stopped fluttering, then stubbed out the taper and sat down next to Tornado and myself.

The yellow glow illuminated our faces and Tornado’s front as he hunched over a pint of beer with a glum expression. Wrenn paced up and down in the darkness between the table and the fireplace, more restless than a rat on a stove, his hand on his sword hilt. Nobody spoke. Cyan was sitting on the hearth step, reading one of Rayne’s books. She looked a lot healthier now. She was poking her thumb through a hole in her jumper, making a woollen glove, and paint was flaking from the designs on her riding boots.

A heavy, insistent hammering came from outside; the Sapper was keeping soldiers working long into the night, building palisades to enclose the canvas city growing outside the town.

The fire took some of the dampness out of the air. The first week of May had ended but the cold night rain still permeated everything. It flattened the grass on the moor and sent ripples down the dam’s overflow chute. Pools in the mud along the Lowespass Road deepened and coalesced. Many carts mired to the tops of their wheels were abandoned haphazardly on the verges.

Frost had fallen asleep sitting at her table, her head down on a sheaf of calculations. Lightning went to her and put a hand under her rounded shoulder. He gently tipped her backwards, her head lolling. He caught her with his other hand in the small of her back, put his arm under her knees and lifted her up. He carried her to her camp bed and laid her down carefully.

‘Is she all right?’

Lightning shook his head. ‘She’s been awake seventy-two hours. Every noise and shadow has her on her toes. She forgets that if you keep a bow strung all the time it will warp-and then when you need it, you won’t be able to use it. She is tillering the string of her mind so taut I wonder it hasn’t already snapped. Tell us the news, Comet.’

I said, ‘The Imperial Fyrd are on their way and so are all the manors. I’ve never seen anything like it-a hundred and fifty thousand soldiers and nearly the same in auxiliaries. All the inns and camp clearings are full, they’re filling churches with straw sacks to sleep on. They strip the depots clean as they pass. It’s as if all the towns are moving-the roads are just like long, thin towns. When I tell the governors that San has left the Castle, they don’t give me any problems raising fyrd. I haven’t even had any resistance from Eske or Hacilith. I think that’s why San is coming-to demonstrate how important this is.’

Tornado folded his arms. ‘When will the Emperor arrive?’

‘I saw his entourage this morning. They’re passing the troops already coming in on the Calamus Road. It’s taking them longer to get here than I expected because half of Awia and the Plainslands is ahead of them. At that rate they’ll take a couple more days.’

Lightning said, ‘I have ensured billeting for the Imperial Fyrd. The quartermasters and armourers are checking our stocks, and we’re carting in more fodder as fast as we can.’

The sleeves of Tornado’s leather jacket were pushed up to his elbows, so I could see the faded red sunburst tattoo under the hairs on his massive forearm. He said, ‘I’ll send troops to clear the way. There are too many Insects running around out there. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. That Insect flight was not, like, natural. It creeps me out. We’re the Emperor’s bodyguard so I’ll go and take charge of the Imperial Fyrd. Half of them hardly ever leave the demesne. They’re like, only the Castle’s guard.’

‘They train very hard,’ said Lightning.

‘They only bloody parade! They never campaign together, at least not as a single division.’

Lightning said, ‘Most of them are veteran Select. If they weren’t good they wouldn’t have got the job. But yes, I agree theirs is an honorary position and you should go out to meet San. He will have this hall as a centre of operations.’