Before we reach the ramp to the dam, a cloth sack is thrown over my head and I’m left leaning against the side of the wagon’s bed, trying to make sense of things as Bay squirms in my arms.

The wagon pitches during the climb, is momentarily level, and then pitches again as we descend into the space beyond the dam. Once on flat ground, the mule’s hooves clomp over hard earth. A few instructions are spoken to our driver, but despite Bedrock’s scale, the place is eerily quiet. No voices or laughter. Just the distant roar of the crashing waterfall and the creak of the wagon’s wheels.

Despite the sack blocking most of my light, things suddenly go darker still. The mule’s hooves echo—we’ve rolled into an enclosed space, a large stable of some sort, if I had to guess—then lurch to a stop. I’m pulled from the wagon.

“Those three go to the fields, the girl straight to the General’s meeting chambers. And the baby goes to the nursery.”

Bay is lifted from my arms. “No!” I grasp blindly for her, tugging against my escort, but I can’t see anything, and I feel like an empty husk of myself. My limbs are heavy, my head clouded. Any fight I had in the Barrel scudded off when Bain tackled me. If the person holding me now let go of my arm, I might topple over.

They push, guiding me roughly, and like a particle of dust in a storm, I’m swept away.

I’m sitting in a chair, hands bound in my lap, when the sack finally comes off my head.

I blink, momentarily stunned by the brightness of the room. The ceiling is too high, and the weathered table stretching before me is massive. It could easily seat twelve. Guards line the perimeter of the room, yet the place doesn’t feel crowded. It’s unnatural. Too large. Too open.

Candles and torches burn throughout the space, casting the stone walls in flickering shadows. To my right there’s a window framed with thin curtains, but from where I’m seated, all I can see beyond it is sky. At the far end of the table is the room’s only doorway. A curtain of beaded ropes hangs from the top frame.

The beads part without warning, and a man steps through. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wears pale garments and a sleeveless leather robe that falls to his heels. A chain of metal pendants hangs around his neck, and a falcon is perched on his shoulder. Its plumage is sandy, like the bird belonging to the gunner from the Barrel, but this creature is larger.

The guards along the walls stand straighter as the man approaches the table.

This must be the General.

I steel my expression, raise my chin.