As Maddock led the way through the tents, he looked up at his brother.

"Don't you want to see mother and father first?"

"Business first. A little wager and a little drink to help bolster my nerves before giving father the good news that my absence from the farm is to be permanent."

Maddock looked over his shoulder. His other two brothers were following behind.

"We'll come along to keep him from too much trouble," said Yohef. "Though I'm looking forward to returning to the farm. I want to hide my spear and shield away under my bed and get my feet back into the earth where they belong."

"How are mother and father?" asked Larrad.

"They're both fine, though father always seems worried."

"Father constantly worries," said Karek. "Now, which way, brother?"

They had reached a junction in the pathways between the tents. Maddock had only visited the Encampment once when the tents were first being erected, but he knew that the merchants had been given pitches along the main avenue, directly west from the fortress. He pointed in that direction.

"I expect the farm had to pay for more labour during the harvest while we were gone," said Yohef, as they made their way along a wider avenue in the tents.

"While Commander Galder expects the same tithe," said Maddock bitterly.

"Still, at least father had you," said Karek, patting Maddock on the shoulder. "Doing the work of the four of us, I expect."

"Well, no."

"So you've been shirking all summer," said Larrad.

Maddock felt a slight flush of shame, though when he had imagined giving them his news, he thought that it would be with more pride than he currently felt.

"I've been up at the fortress. They're letting me train to be a Field-hand."

"A what!" said Karek, turning suddenly and causing his brothers to almost stumble into his back. "What do you want to be a Field-hand for? I thought you wanted me to teach you to use a sword. Do you not want to be a soldier?"

"Yes, but I want to learn to ride a madriel as well."

"Don't you remember our brother's ambition, Karek," said Larrad. He's going to be a knight."

"Oh yes!" Karek clicked his fingers in recollection. "Well, you will still need to know how to use a sword then."

"Yes. Do you think I can become a knight? Everyone else thinks it's stupid."

"Absolutely! We all must have dreams, brother. And the bigger, the better."

Karek set off again, leading Maddock once more by the shoulder.

"Even if you don't become a knight, a Field-hand is an excellent undertaking," said Yohef. "You always had a way with animals. I'm sure you will make a fine Madriel-master."

"I don't want to be a Madriel-master."

"Well, whatever. At least being away from the farm means you will not be taken for the levy when the next war comes."

They walked on through the tents, the noise around them slowly building as they approached the main avenue of the Encampment.

"It's a pity for father though," Yohef went on. "Two of his sons gone from the farm. Lucky for him, me and Larrad are back."

"Are you back for good then?" asked Maddock.

"For now, aye," replied Karek. "It seems that Pride-commander Galder wasn't up for a proper fight, after all."

"I heard rumours up at the fortress that it was Commander Kralaford's idea for him to bring you back."

"Then he has my thanks," said Yohef. "I would feel safer with Sir Kralaford as Grand-commander."

"Do you think he could be?" asked Maddock hopefully.

"I'm putting my money on it," said Karek.

"As you can see, your brother is still a fool with his money."

"Only a fool would put his money on anyone else."

"Only an extremely intelligent fool," said Yohef. "And I would only put my money on Sir Galder or Sir Zembulla to be next Grand-commander, if I were that clever idiot."

Karek was clearly not listening to his older brother.

"I hear that Merchant Dres is offering good odds on him."

"Because he knows that there are plenty of fools like you in the world."

"Oh come on, brother!" cried Karek. He opened his arms expansively. "Look at the man; he is virtually unbeaten, and the youngest knight ever to rise to the position of Pride-commander."

Larrad rolled his eyes, and Maddock smiled.

"And don't either of you start on about Wessvall. You can't judge a man on that. Would you prefer to see Galder in charge?"

"Don't get me wrong," said Yohef. "Of course I would like Sir Kralaford as Grand-commander over Sir Galder. I don't fancy marching to war again, with no retreat like what we have just witnessed."

"What happened?" asked Maddock.

"It was certainly a surprise," replied Larrad. "One day, there we were, gearing up for a fight; more and more troops arriving by the day. Then the next, the Commander's marching south to hide in the Sanctuary. Then the rains came and everyone goes home."

"Not even a chance to lock horns with the fearsome Clansmen," said Karek.

"Are they so wild in the north? You make them sound like savages."

Yohef laughed.

"They are a wild sort," he said. "But hardly savages."

"It is a rough land and breeds rough men," said Karek. "The landscape is steep and the rocks of the earth lie close to the surface."

"It does not look an easy land to farm," said Yohef. "Though there is an abundance of water that falls down from the mountains in torrents."

"And what about the Northern Order? What are they like?"

"Fearsome," said Yohef.

"They're certainly different from our own knights," said Karek. "The javac that they ride are strange beasts, with monstrous jaws and long legs with grasping claws."

"I heard that they can climb mountains," said Maddock.

"I don't know about that," said Yohef. "But I've seen them race up slopes where our own madriel could not follow."

"They're fast as well," added Karek.

"Faster than a madriel?"

"No," said Karek. "Not on the flat. Our madriel are faster, but javac are born to the hills."

As Maddock had been walking with his brothers, they had all begun to pitch their voices higher over the growing noise around them. All conversation stopped momentarily as they entered the avenues of the Encampment, filled as they were with so many people and their accompanying clamour. The scent of trampled grass, along with people and animals, was dominant, but overlaying it all was the smell of food. Fresh baked bread, frying meats and aromatic spices fought with each other to make Maddock's dry mouth water.

At the last High-tourney, he had been too young to visit the Encampment, and had been forced to make do with the tantalising stories that his older brothers brought back to the farm. Now that he was here, it more than lived up to those stories. Stalls lined the avenues, selling everything from the food whose scent filled the air, to clothing and jewellery.

They passed stalls displaying perfumes and spices, glass bottles and jars, rich woven fabrics, and other much more outlandish items that Maddock only half glimpsed. One stall was selling the skins of strange beasts; a multitude of fur, scale and feathers of every imaginable colour and pattern. The stallholder was having a very animated discussion with his neighbour, the inside of whose tent was filled with items carved from the horns, tusks, spines and shells of other strange beasts. They seemed to be comparing wares and swapping stories of the creatures they had come from.

Maddock tried to get a better look at the two stalls, but Karek hurried him on through the press of people, and soon they reached the Encampment's central avenue, which was packed with even more people. The crowd was made up of soldiers, ranchers and farmers, all taking the opportunity to see the sights the Encampment had brought from the more distant parts of the Provinces. Maddock saw two tall Growers that he recognised from the gardens, striding over the crowds on their long red limbs, and a Communicant of Fortak was scrutinising the wares of one small stall which, the sign above the tent proclaimed, was selling relics made from sky-metal.

They pushed on through, Maddock struggling to keep his brother's burgundy tunic in sight, and soon they reached the side of a huge striped tent. This one, unlike the others, was closed to the avenue, with only a single entrance.

"Here we are," said Karek. "Dres' tent. I see Old Xerekus is still on the door."

Standing by the entrance, and looming over the passing crowds, was a creature that Maddock at first thought must be a statue. Its body was the colour of dark stone, and it stood almost motionless in front of the colourful wall of the tent. It crouched on two long legs that arched behind it and then angled forward, tensed like the firing-arms of a war-engine. Two other legs appeared from underneath its frame-like pelvis and stretched forward, to support the vast weight above. From the pelvis, the torso split into two thick segmented spines and rose to join again at the muscles of its angular chest, over which its thick tendoned arms were folded. Two necks each supported long triangular heads with bony snouts and small, black, malevolent eyes.

Those two sets of eyes regarded everything that passed with a calculated ferocity, as each head swivelled slowly on its muscular neck to watch the passing crowds. Strapped to its back, each over two metres long, were two straight, square ended swords.

"What is that?" hissed Maddock.

"Xerekus; doorkeeper and personal bodyguard of Merchant Dres," said Karek. "Impressive, isn't he?"

"But what is it?"

"Don't really know. It is rumoured that he came out of the fire deserts over five hundred years ago."

"Damned impossible to sneak past is what he is," said Larrad.

"No children allowed in the betting tents, you see?" said Karek. "Every child has tried at some point. Except Yohef, of course."

"Because Yohef isn't stupid," said Yohef.

"Unlike that young fellow there."

Karek pointed at a boy dressed in the muddy tunic of a farm-hand. He had the usual large brimmed hat, worn to keep the savage sun from the head while working in the fields, pulled down tight in an attempt to hide his face. He was making his way along the side of the tent towards the entrance, while casting surreptitious glances up and down the crowded avenue.

The brothers watched as he approached the door. The bulk that was Xerekus moved with a sudden swiftness. It rose up on its two powerful legs, and then brought its other two clawed limbs down with a thud that raised a cloud of dust in the face of the advancing boy. One heavy bone-ridged head came down to regard the boy with its tiny black eyes, while the other head continued to watch the passing crowds.

"Now, he's for it," said Larrad, a hint of smug anticipation in his voice.

But instead of the forceful expulsion that seemed to be expected, something else happened. The boy said a few words to the creature that towered above him, and Xerekus stood aside, folded his great limbs back beneath him, and then his heads returned to their sentinel duties.

The boy slipped through the door.

"Well, Tera kick my arse!" said Karek.

"How did the boy manage that?" said Yohef.

"I don't know, but I'll ask him if I can catch him," said Karek. "I'm away in there anyway."

"I'll come with you," said Yohef. "I don't want to see you throw all your wages away."

Karek took the bag of money out of his tunic again. He tipped a few small black coins into his hand and gave them to Maddock.

"You'll have to wait out here. Go and get yourself some food."

"I'll stay too," said Larrad, looking hopefully at the small bag in his brother's hand.

Karek dipped his fingers in and pulled out a few more coins. He gave them grudgingly to Larrad.

"Don't spend them on a piece of sky," he said, and hurried off towards the tent of Merchant Dres.

Larrad scowled at Karek's back.

"We'll meet you back here in a half hour," said Yohef before following his brother.

Maddock watched as his two eldest brothers approached Xerekus. Once again the creature rose up to inspect them, before silently nodding them through.

"He still thinks I'm a fool," said Larrad.

"Who?"

"Karek, of course. And it's got no better since I became an archer. He thinks that every soldier should be a swordsman."

"What about Yohef? He's a spearman."

"Yohef's different. He's a farmer at heart and has no wish to be anything else. I think Karek respects him for that."

Maddock shook his head.

"I don't get that."

"It's a grown up thing. Come on; let's go and eat something. I'm starved." With that, he pulled Maddock by the arm towards the nearest stall. "You can tell me about all the excitement you've been having while we go."

So Maddock filled his brother in on the last few months of his life, which mainly concerned his Field-hand training. He tried to make it sound more full of fun and excitement than it actually was. He didn't think his brother would be too interested in stories of different ways to shovel madriel shit.

Of all his brothers, Larrad had changed the most since the three of them had been away. When Sir Galder had marched them north at the beginning of First Summer, Larrad had still seemed like a boy, but now he was looking more like an adult to Maddock. It was not only the fine stubble on his cheeks. He was a fair few centimetres taller, and his shoulders had grown wider from the constant hours spent practicing with his bow, but when he spoke it was still with the same youthful enthusiasm of the boy that had left half a year before.

They walked along the avenues, marvelling at the various stalls and their wares, but whenever Maddock would stop and linger, Larrad would take his arm and drag him along to the next wonder. To Maddock's eye everything seemed exotic and expensive, and he wondered how the merchants managed to sell their wares to the farmers and ranchers who drew their meagre living from the plains beyond the great-bailey. Then he noticed that many of the people that they passed were well dressed folk from the towns, or wore the uniforms of fortress servants.

He had not mixed much with the servants of the fortress, but he did recognise the yellow and black uniforms of the Head Pantler's clerks, worn by a few men and women gathered around some of the spice stalls. He had seen such people sometimes in the gardens, checking up on how much of the special glass-dome fruit they could expect for some meal or other, or on the quantity of hive-syrup that they could expect to be delivered to the supply-depot. They would always be carrying a hand-ledger and pen, and were constantly counting.

Maddock and Larrad stopped at a food stall, where they each brought a serving of hot meat wrapped in sweetly spiced bread, which they ate while wandering on among the stalls and entertainments.

"Oh, I've been back to the island," said Maddock.

"Now I haven't been there for a while. Is it still the same?"

"Pretty much. Even your smelly clothes were still there."

"Ah well. Probably too small for me now anyways," said Larrad round a mouthful of food. "I won't need them anymore."

"Just as well. I bet you'll be happy to know that the last I saw, they were being worn by a lady of the Order."

"Get away!"

"And not just any lady. It was only the daughter of Pride-commander Kralaford. I didn't tell you I'd had the bad luck to meet her."

"You didn't that!" said Larrad, sounding incredulous. "How did that happen?"

Maddock smiled and began telling his brother about the night the rains had come, and how he had rescued Tahlia from certain death, and how they had spent their time in the secret temple. He barely had to embellish the story at all.

"And you're telling me the truth now?" said Larrad when he had finished.

"Sure. You can ask Dak."

"And I'm sure Commander Kralaford's daughter was duly appreciative of your efforts."

"No. She's rude and ungrateful and thinks she knows everything in the world. She's a ruteia bitch."

"She made an impression on you then?"

"Sure did. Hope I never see her again."

Larrad licked his fingers when he had finished his food, then wiped them on his uniform.

"Delicious! Better than the rubbish Commander Galder gives us. Vegetable gruel and a chunk of dried meat if we're lucky. Come on, we'd best be getting back."

When they reached the betting tent, their brothers were already waiting. Karek had placed his bets on the coming tourney, but they reported that they had not been able to catch up with the farm-boy.

"There was no sign of him," said Karek.

"It may have helped if we had both had our eyes open," said Yohef. "Karek here was too interested in the dancing girls to be of any use."

"Dancing girls!" said Larrad. "If you'd told me there were dancing girls, I'd have come with you!"

"Which is why we didn't tell you!" said Yohef. "Anyway, we couldn't see the boy. He'd disappeared into the crowd someplace."

"I wonder if it was one of the boys from Dredar," said Karek. "Up to no good I'd warrant."

"Maybe he was just sneaking in to see the dancing girls," said Larrad. "I would have done if someone had told me they were there."

He looked pointedly at Karek, who just shrugged and looked up into the slowly darkening sky. The Sladin moon was already a clear crescent high above.

"Time to be getting home," he said. "I can't put off giving father the news any longer."

"You should buy him a jug of hive-wine on the way home," said Larrad. "Soften him up a little."

"That's not a bad idea for an archer."

Just then, Maddock became aware of a stirring in the crowded avenue. A rider was forcing his way through the swell of people. The man was brightly dressed in the uniform of a messenger of the herald service. He rode a tall madriel draped in a trapper, which bore the badges of the six Chapters of Klinberg. As he approached the area outside the betting tent, where the avenue was widest and the crowds were thickest, he took a curved karabok horn from under his cloak. He halted in the centre of the crowd and blew three mighty blasts, and the high clear sound echoed out over the tents. The crowds instantly grew quiet.

"People of Klinberg, hear me speak!"

The man's voice carried as clear as the note of the horn.

"Today, the eight hundred and thirty ninth year since the founding of Naddaran, is a day for joy, for today the good Pride-commander Kralaford of the line of Layne has been blessed with a new son!"

There was a murmuring among the crowd.

"The boy was born upon the grass of the plains, under the face of the sun, and came to us unblemished and strong in health."

"Thanks be to Fortak!" one woman cried out, and the cry was echoed by many others.

"Let it be known that the child is named Kralmir, and his mother, Tahlessa, wife of Sir Kralaford, is in good health. The ceremony of welcome shall be held at the temple upon the tenth day of the advent of Kralmir of the line of Layne, and a feast shall be given to all in their grounds. That is the word that I bring."

With that, the man turned his madriel and headed further into the Encampment to spread his news.

"Commander Kralaford is a lucky man," said Yohef. "I hope his luck holds for the tourney."

"He doesn't need luck," said Karek. "Have faith, brother."

He looked up at the sky, which had grown darker still.

"Time to go." He clapped Maddock on the back. "You can show me where the nearest wine tent is on the way."

"I shouldn't come with you. I've quarters at the Enclosures and I've to be up early for my duties."

"Nonsense!" said Karek. "Your brothers are back. It's time to celebrate."

With that, he ushered Maddock along the avenue.

"But..."

"Don't worry, Maddock," said Yohef, following on behind. "I am sure some kind soul will give you a ride back in the morning."

"I'm sure," confirmed Karek. "None of us, of course. We shall be in no state that early in the day. At least, not after you guide us to the nearest wine-stall. Lead on, brother."

And so, Maddock escorted his brothers back home.