Page 124 of Beds and Blades

“I do not know. He was in the eastern tower at sundown for the watch rotation. After that, he returned to the war room.”

One of the soldiers approached us. “The war room is in disarray. A chair was overturned, and there is blood on the stone beside the hearth. Not much, but enough to suggest someone was struck.”

Skip’s fear remained steady and alive.

I looked back at Cato. “Did you see Varia? Where is she?”

“I saw her briefly. She left shortly after sundown. She took a supply cart through the eastern gate. One large crate, covered and sealed. She said she was carrying provisions to the signal village.”

“Did anyone inspect it?”

His expression changed.

“No. She was Lieutenant Varia.”

There it was.

She had not persuaded Skip to leave the fortress. She had gone to the war room while every soldier in Ely still trusted her, taken him by surprise, and rendered him unconscious before he could call for help. Then she had hidden the High Commander inside a supply crate and carried him through his own gate under the authority of her rank.

She had not needed to defeat Ely’s defenses.

Ely had opened them for her.

“Nema,” I said.

Cato stared at me.

“She took him to Nema. Morvanna has him.”

***

While the garrison armed, search parties cleared every building, corridor, storage room, and stable.

They found nothing.

Skip’s fear had not diminished. It was present, steady, and real, and transmitting with total fidelity. The claiming connection was doing what it had been built to do.

He was alive. He was afraid. He was not here.

The garrison assembled in the courtyard.

Every available soldier stood in the courtyard, torches lit against the dark and breath making clouds in the cold air.

The soldiers looked back at me, their faces ones I had been learning for four months. They were uncertain. They were worried. They were waiting to understand what was required of them.

Cato turned to me.

“The village of Nema,” he said. “If it has been fully infiltrated—if Morvanna has been working it the way the signal suggested—then we are looking at an established position. Turned inhabitants. Command layer assets. Defensible position in the dark. We can move in at dawn.”

“That is eight hours,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I am sorry. Unfortunately, we cannot risk the garrison in a night assault on an established position against unknown numbers. If we go in blind and we are outnumbered and we lose soldiers, we cannot replace them. The line weakens. The outpost weakens. The High Commander would not want…”

“The High Commander,” I said, my voice rising with anger, “is in that village!”

“I know that,” Cato said.

And he did. It was not that he did not care. He had spent years on this line learning the terrible discipline of weighing one life against many.