The Brigadier was spared from having to engage in conversation, though, when they came across a pair of brothers going the same way as them. Farmworkers by the look of them, dressed in the turbans and long, flowing robes of poor, country Carrow folk. They emerged from a side road right beside the two Helberions, who had only dismounted a few minutes earlier and so had nearly a full hour to go before they could mount their tired horses again. The Brigadier considered doing so anyway, since associating with Carrow civilians ran all kinds of risks, especially when his companion was so fond of talking, but the Carrowmen turned out to like talking just as much as the Private and they were in a conversation almost before he knew what was happening. He sighed in resignation. He would just have to hope that his companion had enough good sense not to give away their true identities.

     “Our farm dried up and blew away,” said the first Carrowman, brushing the long, grey hair out of his eyes with a thin, bony hand. “The maize didn't even live long enough to set seed. Just shrivelled up and died before it was up to our knees. We tried irrigating, until the creek dried up, but the water didn't help much anyway. Fouled by the steelworks to the north. We got no money left to buy seed stock, and no sign of the drought ending even if we did, so we’re off to find work in the city.”

     “I passed through Lutton on the way here,” replied Grey. “We're both looking for work too, but there was none in Lutton, even with most of the men drafted into the army. Factories are shutting down, all except for the munitions factories. They’re busy enough, churning out arms and ammunition for the army, but they've already got all the men they want, so we're going south. They told us there's work in Sunby and the Venwell area.”

     “There’ll be something,” the second agreed. “There's always work for men who are willing to work. We may be old, too old for the army, but there'll be someone who needs a strong back and a willing heart. We'll find something.”

     “Aye, and things'll be better when the war's over, when the army brings all the food and money back from Helberion. Everything they stole from us over the years...”

     “What did they steal?” demanded Grey, and the Brigadier gave him a sharp nudge with his elbow.

     It was too late, though. “What did they steal?” said the first Carrowman. “How about half the bloody country? All the best farming land! We’re starving and they’re living high on the hog, selling our own food back to us for three times what it's worth! They've had this coming for a long time and now they’re getting it.”

     The other Carrowman nodded wisely. The first one looked at Grey suspiciously. “How come you're not in the army, anyway? Fit, young man like you.”

     “His lungs,” said the Brigadier hurriedly, drawing upon Malone's description of life in Farwell’s working class districts. “He worked in a factory making medicines before the war and breathed in too much bicarbonate. He’s fine so long as he doesn’t exert himself, but any heavy exercise and he coughs ‘till he bleeds. He offered to join up anyway but they wouldn’t have him. Said he'd slow down the whole company. Poor man's still upset about it.” He patted Grey's shoulder comfortingly and the other man gave him a grateful smile.

     “Too bad,” said the first Carrowman doubtfully. He clearly suspected Grey of cowardice, but the Brigadier didn't mind that. They'd be parting ways soon and they'd never see these two men again. So long as they didn't discover the truth, it didn't matter what else they thought.

     “And what about you?” The other Carrow man asked, though. “You're old, but not that old. I reckon you could still hold your own on the battlefield. You got bad lungs too?”

     “I was in the last war,” replied the Brigadier truthfully. “I could tell you some stories, show you some scars. I've done my bit. Time to give the younger folk a chance.”

     “Reckon there’s enough action to be had over there for everyone,” the man replied, though. “Old and young alike. And you'll have valuable experience. Reckon you'd make a good officer.”

     “Officers have to march just the same as everyone else,” said the Brigadier, though. In his mind, he considered how he'd kill them, should it be necessary. “My marching days are done. My legs.”

     “Your legs seem fine at the moment...”

     “Leave him alone, Davey,” said the other man gently. “Sometimes, it's not the body that fails. Like my uncle Phil. Breaks down and cries every time he hears a loud bang. Reminds him of the guns, you see. Is that how it is with you, mate?”

     The Brigadier tried to look ashamed and embarrassed. It was hard, his face had no idea how to do it. The whole concept of shame was alien to him. You did what needed to be done, and that was that. He tried, though, and he must have succeeded to some extent if the expressions of sympathy on the faces of the Carrowmen was any indication. “I prefer not to talk about it,” he mumbled, and the Carrowmen looked away as if embarrassed.

     “So, what kind of work you looking for?” asked Grey.

     “Anything that's going. Can't afford to be picky. So long as it pays enough to buy food and a roof over our heads.”

     “Mate of mine says you need two jobs these days to avoid starvation,” said his fellow. “People are leaving the country. West to Kelvon, and maybe east to Helberion when the war's over. There’ll be plenty of farms need working when the Helberries have been driven off.”

     “Surely the Helberries will be working their own farms,” said Grey. “Just because they’re living under Carrow rule, the farms will still belong to them.”

     “Word is, the farmers are all heading east and taking their cattle with them, leaving their crops to rot in the fields. The land's empty, just waiting for the first person to claim it.”

     “So why aren’t you over there, claiming a farm?”

     “’Cos of the land mines. It's not just the big minefields Now and then they put a solitary mine right in the middle of a field of corn, to blow up the first Carrowmen who tries to harvest it.”

     The Brigadier suppressed a smile. It had been he who'd suggested this trick to the King during his brief stay in Marboll following his mission to Mekrol.

     “Best to wait for a bit,” continued the Carrowman. “Let the army find the mines first, then go over and find a nice little place for ourselves.”

     “And what'll you do when the farm's rightful owner comes back to claim it?”

     “He can push off again! The farm'll be mine, and the government'll back me up. Maybe I’ll hire them on to work the farm, but the farm'll belong to me. We're gonna be the victors, after all, and the victors get the spoils. Right?”

     “Well, you'd better not leave it too late, then, or you'll find all the best farms have been taken already,” said Grey with a smirk. “Still, maybe one of them'll take you on as hired hands.”

     The first Carrowmen glared at him, but the other merely shrugged. “Right now I'd settle for that,” he said. “So long as I get an honest day's pay for an honest day's work, I’ll be happy.”

     “Fat chance of that in this country,” said the first. “Not with the bosses running everything. You hear all kinds of things from the big cities. The bosses cutting wages, then cutting them again and making the men work longer hours. And anyone who dares to object gets beaten up, even killed. I don't know, maybe we should be wishing the Brigadier luck.”

     “The Brigadier?” said Grey in surprise, glancing sideways at the Brigadier.

     “Careful, Davey!” said the other Carrowmen. “We don't know these people.”

     “I'm just saying what everyone's saying. My cousin Nick keeps pigeons, uses them to talk to people in Treeds. He says the Brigadier passed through a day or two back. He's going from city to city, they say, organising an uprising. A last ditch attempt by Helberion to avoid defeat by helping the people of Carrow overthrow their own government. Won't work, of course. Nothing can save Helberion now, but the seeds the Brigadier's sowing might still bear fruit. Give it a year or two and we might have a new government in this country. A fair government! This might become a country where people willing to work can make a good life for themselves. When the bloody draught passes, of course. The Brigadier and a return of the rains This could become a great country one day. It could become what it used to be, before Bengoll Strake.”

     “This country were never great,” said his companion, though. “If it had been great back then, Bengoll Strake would never have found the support he needed to break away. It were a cesspit then and it’s a cesspit now. That's why the Brigadier’s plan might succeed, even if not in time to do Helberion any good. Not that I would support him, of course,” he hastily added, suddenly remembering he was talking to strangers. “Loyal to King Nilon, I am, Those Above bless him! No more loyal man in all the country than me.”

     “Who else knows about the Brigadier?” asked Grey.

     “Well, my cousin Nick talks to people all across the country with his pigeons. It were him who first found out about Princess Ardria getting captured.”

     “What!” said the Brigadier, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing tight. “What about the Princess?”

     “She were captured by Colonel Hemdall just yesterday, Nick says. He took a squad of men into Marboll itself, caught her and brought her out a prisoner. He’s taking her back to Charnox right now where Nilon'll use her to make Leothan surrender. Apparently Nilon’s already made his demands to Leothan. He might have surrendered already, for all we know. The war might be over already!”

     The Brigadier relaxed and released his shoulder. “I thought Hemdall was stationed in Tibre,” he said. “He's the garrison commander there. What would he be doing leading a raid into Marboll? What would any Colonel be doing leading a raid like that?”

     “You don't believe it?” said Davey.

     “There may be a grain of truth in it, but I expect they exaggerated it a bit, for propaganda purposes. Princess Ardria may indeed be on her way to Charnox, but voluntarily. To negotiate terms of surrender.”

     “I dunno. Nick was pretty sure she'd been captured. They're making a real big thing about it in Charnox, apparently. Parties in the street, the King giving stirring speeches. Everyone's saying the war's all but over.”

     “Well, time will tell,” said the Brigadier, who said nothing more for a long time afterwards.

☆☆☆

     “Do you think she’s been captured?” asked Grey some time later, after they'd remounted their horses and left the two Carrow farmers behind them. They’d ridden hard for an hour, and were now walking to rest them again. “The Princess, I mean.”

     “Doesn't matter,” said the Brigadier. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think I know what she’s up to. If I'm right, it doesn't matter whether she’s here voluntarily or not. All that matters is that she has a chance to speak to King Nilon, which she will. He'll want to gloat over her, show her off in public. She'll have all the time in the world to speak.”

     “And say what? You think she’ll talk him into surrendering?”

     “She'll be trying to convince him that the Radiants are the enemies of all humanity. I've already succeeded in persuading Emperor Tyron. If Ardria can convince Nilon, then the three most highly industrialised countries in the human world will be united against them. We'll teach them what it means to meddle in human affairs.”

     “And what if she gets there and finds that Nilon's been adopted? Suppose he's not been fooled by them but is just as determined as they are to enslave humanity.”

     “Nilon is a King. He has to appear in public, wave to crowds, and people now know to look out for people with powdered skin. Of course, he’ll have access to much more realistic makeup than most adoptees, maybe enough to fool people even from quite close up... I suppose it’s possible, but I think it's more likely that some of his close advisors are adoptees. They'll be the danger. They'll be very anxious to prevent her from speaking to the King. They'll kill her, or curse her, the first chance they get.”

     “Let’s hope she still has her escort to look after her. If she has been captured, they may all be dead. I'd be dead too if she hadn't sent me to get you.”

     “We don't know what's happened to them. For all we know, they may all be safely on their way to Charnox, with an escort of Carrow troops to make sure they get there safely.”

     “But if she is alone now, captured, what do we do?”

     “Assess the situation when we get there. Find a way to make contact. Take our orders from her. Find a way to rescue her, should that he necessary.”

     “Just the two of us? Rescue Princess Ardria from King Nilon’s palace under the noses of a hundred of his best men?”

     “Making plans now is pointless. We have to wait until we know more.”

     Private Grey nodded glumly, but as they walked beside their horses through the arid Carrow countryside he fancied he could almost hear the gears turning inside the Brigadier’s head as he considered one scenario after another, his expressionless face revealing nothing of what he thought of their chances of success, or even survival.