Robin nodded, bringing her mind back to the plan. “There are two generals at the monastery right now,” she said. “Zimri, who is loyal to your father, and Gautho, who is loyal to Gareth. How strong would you say Zimri’s loyalty is?”
“He has been working for my father since I was a child,” Ian said. “He taught me to fight, to plan for battle. I have always considered him to be a part of my family.”
“But?” Robin prompted, sensing that there was more Ian wanted to say.
“He has spent his life knowing that the Return of the Majis would happen under his leadership. Preparing for this war has been his sole life’s work, obsessively so.”
“So he is loyal to you,” Robin said, “but that loyalty may waver if he knew you had changed your opinions on the Majis?”
“Yes.” Ian nodded. “Even if such news came from my father, I do not know that he would accept it.”
“Even though Erich married a Majis?” Robin asked. “You do not think that may have swayed his opinion on the matter at all?”
“Aizel is a singular person who gained our trust, and therefore his,” Ian responded. “I do not know that that changes his opinion on the whole of the matter. We did not have the time—or perhaps we did not use the small time we had—to share the truth about what we have learned over the last two seasons.”
“Perhaps it is time to change that,” Robin said.
“What is your plan, Robin?” Ian asked.
“Enough dancing around the point. Out with it,” Brother Fletcher said, though Robin doubted he had been paying attention.
Robin leaned forward over the short table between them. She needed Ian to believe in this. “We take back the monastery the day after the Majis are transferred there. You approach the monastery from the outside as Ian, Crown Prince of Iseldis, and call the generals out to meet with you.”
Ian had leaned back on his stool as she spoke, his face showing the concern he was clearly thinking. “You do remember,” he said, “that Gareth has sent out orders to apprehend me?”
“That is why I asked about Zimri,” Robin said. “We only need you to distract the generals for as long as it takes for me to enterthe monastery by another route and take it by surprise from the inside. If Zimri is as loyal as you say, his hesitation will buy us the time that we need.” She leaned forward. “I will not send you into battle without an exit strategy—and a backup plan for the exit strategy.”
Ian nodded. “So you take the monastery from the inside with what, eight bandits?”
“Twelve,” Robin replied. “I have five others who will join us from other villages closer to the shore.”
“And we hold the monastery as a fortress against three companies of soldiers who have been locked out?” Ian asked.
“I was not finished,” Robin said, trying not to show her irritation. She did not want to fault Ian for being skeptical.
Ian closed his mouth and gave her a single nod.
“When the Majis ships arrive—perhaps two sevennights from now—we will be in a position to free them. To remove the gems that control them from around their throats.”
Ian leaned forward again. “An army,” he said. “We would be freeing an army that could fight for us.”
Robin shook her head. “No.”
“No?” Ian was surprised.
“These are people who have been enslaved for their entire life. Freeing them to fight for us would be no better than what Gareth and his ancestors have done. This is not their battle to fight. No, in freeing the incoming Majis, we can show the Iseldan soldiers that the Majis are not their true enemy, and you can regain the trust of your actual army.”
Ian bit his lower lip, appearing to consider her words. “You are right.” He looked back up at her. “The outcome of this plan is ideal,” he said, “but this feels unlike you, Robin, in a way that makes me doubt the soundness of it. I do not see a way for you—for us—to take down the monastery with a handful of men. It would be walking into a slaughter.”
“My cypher there knows when the soldiers go down to the beach to practice their formations for the upcoming battle. The monastery will be empty. And...” She reached into the drawer of her small desk and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “I have this.”
Ian lifted the fletching materials off of the table as she unfolded the parchment and spread it out before him and Brother Fletcher. It was old. The ink had faded, worn completely away in the areas of the parchment that had been creased into folds.
“This is a map of the monastery,” Robin said. “But it is no ordinary map.”
Ian leaned over to study the faint lines.
Robin watched him, having studied the map for many hours herself. “It shows not only the main halls and rooms of the monastery buildings,” she explained, pointing to certain lines, “but the network of passages that wind through the ancient walls. Walls built to be thick enough to withstand the wind and cold from the sea for centuries to come.” She pointed to other lines on the map, illustrating the secret passages.
