“I didn’t give up before, and the gods know I’m cursed well not going to give up now. What if we can hold this rock? Won’t that give hope to others?”

“Who will be captain?” repeated Pil.

“That’s right,” she said fiercely, looking at each in turn: the fire captain still stricken and likely to break out in a whine; Peddo exhausted but thoughtful; Kesta twisted between despair and hope. Pil as always so calm that you didn’t know whether to love him or shake him to see if he would ever yelp. “We need a commander, someone who knows Toskala and the other halls. Someone who has allies. Someone who might actually know what he’s doing, even if he is a vain-hearted and insufferably smug horse’s ass. I say, we send word to Argent Hall. To Marshal Joss.”

53

Joss paced to the edge of darkness beyond which Scar drowsed on a rocky perch, but he heard and sensed nothing out of the ordinary. Yet he could not shake off a tingle along his skin, like ants crawling up and down his neck. He returned to the fire. Water boiled in a pot set on a tripod over the flames. He placed a bowl on a rock and poured water over leaves, then covered it to steep. Darkness had trapped them in the steep-sided, hidden valley, and he was himself confined to the circle of firelight with a blanket on the ground, if he even dared attempt sleep. Hearing the scuff of footsteps, he rose.

Miyara set down their lamp beside the bowl. She wiped sweat from her forehead with a cloth and sank into a crouch, rubbing her neck.

“How are things?” he asked, not sure how much he was permitted to know but desperate for any scrap.

“I’ll take the tea. Thanks for brewing it. Priya and I could use a sharp pinch to keep alert.”

“How are you managing without the lamp, if you don’t mind my asking? Or did you find another in the shelter?”

“I did not.” She grinned. “Us reeves taking a break from training at Naya Hall to spend a night in the cave aren’t doing so because we need light, eh?” She laughed.

Joss ran a hand over his head. “What do you mean?”

“Surely you of all people would—” Then she laughed again. “As nervous as you are, Marshal, you’d think you were the father, eh?”

“Or responsible for Captain Anji’s wife. This is scarcely the time for jokes.”

“Aui! No more jokes, then!” Miyara shook her head, lifted up the bowl’s cover, and inhaled. “Eihi! That’s ready, eh? It’s out of your hands, Marshal. The gods will favor her, or curse her, but if you ask me, she’s a tough one. Never a word of complaint. She’s managing as well as any can who must suffer through her first birth. Here, now, let’s take this back. I’ve something I’d like you to see.”

“Is that allowed—? I wouldn’t want to—”