“He frowned over at a set of great pots, man high, fires banked underneath ’em, steam pouring from inside. “What the bloody hell are the pots for?” asked Scenn. “Soup or something?” “They’re for rendering down the corpses, d’you see.” Isern frowned at her spear’s bloody head. “So they can get at the bones.” Scenn shook his head in disbelief. “What a pack of arseholes.”
