First, Kaden, Valyn reminded himself, bellying forward once more. Then talk. If the talk didn’t work, Gwenna could blow the floor. Then they’d see who was surprised.

“Valyn,” the Flea continued after a moment. “I’ll be straight with you. I saw what happened at Ashk’lan, the slaughtered monks. We found what’s left of Yurl’s Wing and the other Aedolians spread over half the mountainside. Back on the Islands they’re naming you a traitor, but I’m not so sure. You never struck me as the traitorous type, and now that I’ve seen what I’ve seen . . .” He let the suggestion hang in the air a moment. “Come on out, let’s discuss this, before you do something dumb and Finn has to put an arrow through you.”

Valyn tried to weigh his response.

“Besides,” the Flea added, “you might as well talk to me now. I can hear you muttering down there.”

Valyn took a deep breath. He’d given away his position, but maybe a little conversation would buy time for Kaden. “The thing is,” he replied loudly, thinking back to the mountain pass days earlier, to the way he’d naïvely ordered his people to surrender their weapons, “trust hasn’t been working out too well for me recently.”

The Flea chuckled. “Looked like it worked out even less well for the men you were trusting.”

“Yeah, well, we got lucky.”

“Why don’t you put down your weapons, and you can tell me about it.” Valyn tensed. He wanted to believe the man, but he’d be shipped to ’Shael before he willingly disarmed again. Right now they could still maneuver, bargain, fight. Without weapons . . . well, he didn’t intend to throw the dice more than he had to.

When they reached the gate, Tan started talking to Kaden.

“Picture the bird,” he began slowly.

“What?” Valyn demanded.

“It’s a mental exercise,” Kaden said quietly.

Valyn shook his head. “Fuck the fucking bird,” he spat, “and get out of here. The Flea’s all sweetness and small talk now, but he’s not going to keep talking forever.”

The older monk turned that stony gaze on Valyn. “If Kaden steps through the gate without the necessary preparation, he will cease. It cannot be rushed.”

Valyn flexed and unflexed his sword hand. He could feel his luck flexing, straining, starting to splinter with each hammering heartbeat. “How long?”

“More time, the more you talk.”