“Is there a joke I’m not getting about the fact that this whole miserable town’s about to be burned to the dirt?” Laith asked.

For once, even the flier’s cynicism couldn’t dampen Valyn’s spirits. He just smiled and passed the long lens. It took Laith a moment to find Gwenna in the shadows, and then he, too, was laughing.

“That tough, stubborn bitch,” he marveled. “Leave it to Gwenna Sharpe to decide she’s fed up playing prisoner to an entire army of Urghul.” Shaking his head, he handed the lens to Talal.

“Annick’s there, too,” the leach said after a moment. “And Pyrre.”

Valyn’s face hurt from smiling. It seemed like forever since he’d had a reason. “I wonder how they got free. . . .”

“Those three?” Laith asked. “Probably just kept clawing eyes and biting throats until there weren’t any Urghul left. Here we are wandering all over Raalte killing our own men, and they’ve busted themselves free, humped it back ahead of an entire mounted army, and started preparing the defense.” The bitterness had crept back into his voice. “Starts to make you wonder why we even bothered.”

The smile slid from Valyn’s face like a shadow. “We bothered,” he said, “because it seemed like the right choice at the time.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Laith said, rising to his feet on the crumbling roof. “Let’s get down there while there’s still work to do.”

Valyn hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

For a moment no one moved. No one spoke. The wind whipped spray from the waves, tossing it against the rock. It riffled through the boughs of the pines, scratched at the clouds, whipped the fires below into sparks and ruddy blaze.

The flier turned on him slowly, incredulous. “No?”

“We stay here,” Valyn said, keeping his voice low. “The mission is to kill il Tornja. That hasn’t changed.”

“And what about the fact that our Wing is right down there?” Laith demanded, waving a hand at the small town below. “What about the fact that the ’Kent-kissing Urghul are coming and these people need help?”

“Gwenna has it in hand,” Valyn said, his own words bitter on his tongue. He wanted to be down there as much as Laith, standing with his Wing and his people, throwing up barricades, thinking through strategy. . . . Three more bodies wouldn’t mean much when it came to the actual fight, but three Kettral-trained soldiers could do a lot right now when it came to organizing and leading the townsfolk. It would feel good to lift something, move something, do something. It would also jeopardize the mission.