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“Eir Stegalkin,” said Gullik sternly. “She was a great hero, once.” He stressed the word “was.”

“So the slave driver hung out with us mere humans? Pitiful,” said Riona, loud enough for a few charr heads to twist in her direction.

“The prisoner will be silent!” snapped Kranxx, and slapped Riona’s haunch with the lightning rod. Dougal admired that Riona didn’t strike out against the asura.

They marched through the heat of the day, reaching the base camp by the late afternoon. The beachside camp was on the shores of the lake dominating the Ascalon Basin, and was laid out with military precision, lines of tents arranged in grids. The troops were dismissed and returned to their assigned quarters, leaving Ember and her prisoners alone. The charr stood there, waiting, and within a few moments the black-furred tribune stormed up.

“Doomforge!” snapped Rytlock Brimstone.

“Sir, yes, sir!” said Ember, snapping to attention. Riona stifled a laugh and Dougal scowled at her.

“You are a mystery. I don’t like mysteries in my camp,” Brimstone snarled. “You will take the furthest tent, down by the shore.”

“Yes, sir!” Ember looked petrified.

Brimstone ignored her discomfort. “There is an empty supply skiff moored there. We are going to abandon it and report it scuttled. I want you out of here before tomorrow morning. We are heading east along the coast. Choose a different direction.”

“Understood, sir!”

“Understand this,” said Brimstone. “I don’t want to see your face again. Dismissed!”

Ember executed a crisp salute and said, “Yes sir!” She motioned to Gullik to pull the humans down toward the far end of the tents.

“And, Doomforge …” said Rytlock Brimstone.

“Yes, sir!”

“You have your grandmother’s eyes,” said the tribune, and managed what Dougal could only imagine was a smile.

“Thank you, sir!” said Ember, suddenly relaxing a fraction of an inch, and waving for the others to follow.

The selected tent had been newly erected a fair distance from the crisp lines and close to the abandoned skiff. Ember indicated to the others to step inside. “Get your rest, we’ll leave once night has settled.”

“He knows,” said Kranxx, pulling off his rumpled hat and running his fingers through his hair. “He knows what we’re doing.”

“No,” replied Ember. “That is, he knows I am up to something, and that Imperator Swordshadow is somehow involved. And that we are a mystery, and he hates mysteries. The sooner we sneak out, the sooner he will be relieved of thinking about what we’re up to.”

“And what did he mean about your grandmother’s eyes?” said Riona.

“I thought it was obvious,” said Ember, pausing at the entrance to the tent. “He knows my grandmother. You rest. You will need your energy.” And then she was gone, leaving the others to make themselves comfortable as they saw fit. Dougal did not remove his chains, and Riona did not request it. They rested until dark.

For an abandoned skiff scheduled for scuttling the boat proved to be well stocked. A pair of heavy oars were set in muffled locks near the stern, and a long steering pole was laid alongside a gunwale. Beneath the seats were a few tins of boiled meat.

The asura took the bow, the humans and Ember behind him. Gullik pushed off from shore and, nimbly for his size, settled in at the rowing bench. They rowed away from the camp on quiet oars. No one would admit to seeing them leave.

Once they were far enough from the shore that the charr campfires were hot red dots, Ember unlocked the manacles. Dougal wanted to throw them into the lake but instead handed them over to Gullik, who paused from his rowing long enough to stash them back in his satchel and return Riona’s and Dougal’s weapons to them.

The moon was already up when they left the camp, but the lake swallowed its light utterly. They rowed through the darkness, the horizon only obvious from where the stars ended and complete blackness began. Far to the north there was a faint glow, something throwing the moonlight back into the sky.

Riona and Dougal took turns at the bow of the boat with the pole, feeling in the darkness