"Lord of the Earth, bless that girl," Lina said. "She's done more than we ever asked of her. I'm naming my next child after her."

Amber smiled, suddenly feeling a surge of hope to hear Lina, a woman who had been given her fair share of life's painful moments, talk about again having a child.

"It's nearly time," Samora said.

"Give it a big longer," Lina said. "Everyone knows to wait for nightfall."

The prisoners who'd kept their wooden bowls were those who sat closest to the three women. Amber looked down at the sack at her feet, where the glass globe of the nightlamp had been covered from prying eyes, trying to slow the racing of her heart as the sun steadily dropped towards the horizon.

"The man who commands the allied army," Amber said suddenly.

"What about him?" Lina asked.

"He's the man I love."

"You're in love with the Lord Marshal?" Samora said quizzically.

"I suppose I am," Amber said.

"I pray you'll soon be reunited," Lina said, squeezing Amber's knee. "Come on. It's time. They're here." Lina looked up.

Against the afterglow that remained after sunset, six men carrying a makeshift litter were silhouetted against the sky as they wended their way through the camp, carrying a seventh man, immobile and groaning in pain, through the camp to where the three women sat waiting.

This part of the plan was a calculated risk. The guards generally left the prisoners to their own devices, particularly when it came to injuries. When a prisoner was hurt or sick there were no visits from healers; it was left to the prisoners to tend to their own kind. The litter had been made from Amber's wooden sleeping pallet, modified by some of the men who were good with their hands to form a platform of planks. The six men who bore the litter were the strongest of the prisoners, and the prone figure they carried was neither injured nor unwell. All seven men had been soldiers in the allied army, and all had a debt to repay to their enemy.

"Put him down here," Amber said. From now on, they would give up any pretence; the most casual glance would reveal the revolt. "Now, quick, before the guards notice, everyone stand back and get ready."

The man on the litter rolled off to join his fellows, while Amber heaved and turned the door-sized piece of wood over.

Spidery symbols covered it, drawn with as much skill as Amber possessed. "Sahl-an-tour," she said.

The runes blazed to life, and immediately a wave of warmth washed over her from the makeshift heatplate. The growing temperature forced Amber to step back, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Shouts and cries were heard from the guards. In their section of the camp, near the gate, the most able-bodied prisoners all stood in accord, wooden food bowls in their hands.

"Now!" Amber cried.