After a few moments, Scrawny glides down to land on his arm. The crow must have dug in his claws, because Tal winces. Preener and Slicewing settle nearby.

I hand him a tattered blue handkerchief. “I’ll send a bird to fly over your house every day at dawn. If you have a message for Gatha, hang this outside and the bird will land. Least suspicious place would be to hang it out with your wash.” I take out a thin piece of leather, roll it up, and tie it to the skinny part of Scrawny’s leg, barking at the bird to hold still when he fidgets. “Roll up your message and tie it like so. They get surly sometimes, but you just have to show them you’re in command.”

Tal doesn’t look like he completely believes me, but he gives a deliberate nod. “Thank you.”

I shrug off his thanks and whistle for the birds to follow me out of the village. Slicewing launches into the air, and the other two take wing moments after. The sun’s getting close to setting now, and I pass more villagers on the paths, mostly coming from the direction of the crop terraces. No one stops me, though I get a few curious looks. I’m almost back into the forest when I hear someone speaking in Amparan.

“Be ready to leave at dawn tomorrow for Sehmar City.”

A shiver goes up my spine, and I stop in my tracks. That must be the messenger that Tal mentioned.

Their voices get louder. Up ahead of me, my path meets another trail. It sounds like they’re coming from that direction, though a cottage blocks my view. I cast around for somewhere to hide.

“The village leader looks less happy to see you every time you come.”

“He’s lucky the village didn’t get razed with what happened to Arxa’s troops. He’ll behave himself. If not, well, that’s why you have your swords, right?”

Laughter follows. Bastards.

The path is frustratingly free of vegetation or cover. There’s a goat pen, but the fence is too low to hide anything. I edge toward the cottage, thinking that I can try to keep it between me and the speakers.

A memory forces itself before my eyes.

I’m chained to the wall of the dungeon. The interrogator stands in front of me, whip in hand. I prepare myself for another lash, but he stops and looks to the door.

“Commander Arxa, what an honor for you to visit.”

A shadow looks in from the doorway. I can hardly see him through the swollen slits of my eyes, but I can feel the force of his gaze.

“Make sure you get what you need out of him.” The commander’s voice rumbles like a cavalry stampede.

“You, over there. What are you doing?”