The alarm is erected on a wheeled pedestal in the center of the Skrain camp, surrounded by several large barracks tents. It’s a horn of pure white bone that almost glows in the moonlight. The mouthpiece is little more than the size of a reed flute, but it spirals out into a six-foot cone large enough for Evie to crawl inside. With the proper application of breath, the horn’s bellow will resound throughout the entire base of operations.

Sentries posted around the camp’s perimeter carry smaller horns that are also meant to alert the others and signal to blow the main alarm, but the Sicclunan night warriors should be seeing to them one by one at this very moment.

A lone Skrain soldier has been stationed beside the encampment’s main alarm. He totes a javelin and is currently occupied with spectating a game of dragon tiles being played on the ground in the distance.

“We’ll plant ourselves here,” Mother Manai says. “Wait for it to start. It shouldn’t be long now. No reason to tax the young man premature-like.”

“You spoke of grandchildren,” Evie says to her. “How many do you have?”

“I’m not really sure anymore. A fair score more than I did when I swallowed my coin, I imagine. Damn kids don’t seem to know what else to do with their time besides breed.”

Mother Manai tries to sound lighthearted, but Evie can hear that wavering sadness and longing underneath.

“I’m sorry if my asking about it causes you pain. I didn’t mean—”

“I like thinking about ’em, remembering ’em,” Mother Manai insists. “It’s one of my favorite things.”

“What are your other favorite things?”

Manai shrugs. “Drinking, supple young men who appreciate an older woman’s experience. I’m not more’n a simple peasant with simple tastes.”

“You’re a great warrior,” Evie reminds her, and she means it.

“I’m a survivor, love. That’s all. Fightin’ just comes with the territory.”

“Can I ask… why you’re here? Why you agreed to follow me into all this?”

“I like you. You remind me of one of my daughters. And you remind me of me when I was young and fresh and new.”

“That’s it?”

“What more is there for a Savage?” Mother Manai asks, sounding almost surprised.

Evie doesn’t press the issue further. In the silence that follows, the truth of what’s about to happen begins edging between her temples, touching the previously occupied parts of her mind. The inescapable notion that a plan she’s made is moments away from causing the deaths of hundreds of people, possibly on all sides of this conflict, takes center stage for Evie. In that moment she asks herself dozens of questions all at once, with no answer for any of them. She also knows the answers don’t matter; the course it set.