It said that he had been right about the position.
Baldwin stopped walking and put his back to the wall and levelled the sword at a corridor with nothing in it.
The voice went on, unbothered.
It said that he had put that position on a list a year and a half ago. That he had argued for its garrison to be withdrawn in autumn and had been refused. That he had argued again in spring and had been refused. That he had read the report this morning twice, all the way through the equipment inventory, which nobody reads.
That he had then gone to his father and said everything correctly, and had lost, and had bowed.
"Who is speaking," Baldwin said.
It did not answer that.
It asked him instead whether he had counted the unaccounted column.
He had. Four hundred and six.
