The next day passed in a blur. Rastod felt as though he hadn't uttered a word, his legs just worked, his arms just carried, his hands were so stained by dust and blood he was not sure he'd ever be able to wash it off.

  "Heave, heave!" Slug bellowed, his chins rippling.

  Rastod twisted, got his shoulder under the beam, locked eyes with Ezlos who stood next to him, then they did as they were ordered. They heaved.

  The great wooden beam wobbled upwards, allowed another soldier to rush in alongside them and get their shoulders beneath it too. Together the three of them shifted it, inched to the side and let it drop to the road with a great smack. It revealed only more rubble below, but allowed a group of civilians to clamber in and start scratching at the smaller bits of stone.

  Rastod shuffled away, was happy to put his bulk to work moving heavy things, but was likewise happy to not be here when the rubble revealed the flesh that was no doubt buried below.

  "Thought they were just targeting the front," Rastod muttered.

  Ezlos clapped him on the shoulder, and they left the collapsed house behind.

  They crowded in on a barrel of water, drinking like animals in summer. Olern's springs meant water would never run out, it would seem. Would've been a good thing only it meant the Baron could hold out longer.

  "You hear?" Ezlos asked, wiping water from his fuzzy chin.

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  Rastod just shook his head. Even that felt an effort.

  "Nook brothers got caught fleeing in the west, on the Bokan border. Tarcin is all but finished," Ezlos said, a small smile on his face.

  "What was that?" a man snapped, jerked Ezlos around with a hand on his shoulder.

  "Nothing, nothing," Ezlos said to the bigger man, who wore the yellow of Tarcin though it was stained with mud and worse.

  "Say it again," the Tarcin soldier hissed through clenched teeth.

  Before Rastod really knew he was doing it he'd planted his fist into the soldier's jaw, sent him flying backwards. Rastod stormed forward, punched again as the other man came to a wobbling stop. The Tarcin soldier stumbled backwards, back of his head smacking into the wall of the building behind. Rastod drew his dagger, smashed it into the wood near the man's ear.

  "Best you forget what you think you might've heard," Rastod whispered, face so close he could feel the rotten heat of the soldier's breath.

  The man stared back, a dribble of blood peaking out from his nose and staining his lips. He did not look scared, his eyes flicking behind Rastod then back. Tense moments crawled on, Rastod saw movement in his peripheral but didn't dare take his eyes off the man before him. Good chance he'd get a sword in the back any moment. At least he'd be done with the siege that way.

  "I'll be off, then," the Tarcin soldier said.

  Rastod stepped back, wrenched his blade from the wall. The soldier spat blood on the cobbles and strode away, not glancing back.

  Rastod let out a held breath, wobbled around and toppled back against the wall, letting it hold his trembling weight. Only those in Uzin red stood before him. Seems he got lucky.

  "Thanks," Ezlos muttered, stepping close.

  "You know who that was?" Kasia asked, her arms folded and eyebrow raised as usual.

  "Some prick," Rastod guessed.

  "He was the Nook brothers' cousin," Ezlos said, chewing on his lip.

  "There ya go," Kasia said. She gave a delicate clap, fingers against palm. "Well done punching the new leader of Tarcin in the face."