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    “Scriber Dennon.” Bryndine greeted me politely, glancing over my shoulder at Sylla, who still stood sentinel behind me as though I might try to bolt at any time. “Sylla, give us a moment, please.”
    Sylla reluctantly stepped away—but only a short distance, keeping her wary gaze fixed on me.
    Bryndine gestured for me to come closer and lowered her voice. “I apologize for Sylla, Scriber. She is… protective of me. I want you to know that you are in no danger from us. I need your help.”
    “You have a funny way of asking for help, my La—Captain Bryndine.” I glanced over my shoulder at Sylla, hoping she hadn’t heard my near-failure to address her Captain by her proper rank.
    “As I said, I apologize. There is no time to quarrel about this.” Bryndine glanced up at the growing crowd of villagers, making sure they were not eavesdropping. “The Burners are closing on this village as we speak. They will attack in a few hours, if not sooner. We are here to evacuate Waymark and bring all of you with us to Three Rivers. The First Company is on its way; the High Commander sent us ahead to begin preparations.”
    I stared at her for a moment, unable to speak. “I… Three Rivers?” That was the last place I wished to go.
    “Refugees from the attacks are being gathered at the capital, under King Syrid’s protection. The King wishes to show his people that Erryn’s Promise still stands, even if the Burners seek to disprove it.” She placed a hand on my shoulder as she continued. “Scriber Dennon, I need your support. These people will not leave their homes at my word alone. As you mentioned when last we met, my reputation precedes me. I will not be trusted, but they may listen to you.”
    “I can’t! I—”
    “I am not asking you to tell them yourself, only to help convince them if they are resistant after I explain,” Bryndine interjected. “If you do not, many of these people may die. The First Company is coming, but I do not know if they will arrive in time. My women will do all they can, but we are too few to defend the village ourselves.”
    “So you’re putting it on my shoulders?” Responsibility for the people of Waymark was too much; I had come to Waymark to avoid ever having lives placed in my hands again. Though they were proud to have a Scriber where most villages their size had none, I was far from beloved in the community. There was no guarantee they would listen to me at all. But Bryndine had put me in a position where I could not refuse, and it made me furious. “Is that what this is, Captain? If I can’t convince them, this is my fault, not yours?”
    “Think what you will of me, Scriber, as long as you agree to do this.”
    “You know I have to,” I answered bitterly. “I swore an oath.” I was not about to let her see me flinch from the task—it would only give her another opportunity to judge me.
    “Good. Go then, join them. I will address them shortly; be prepared to lend me your support.”
    I was about to turn away when a thought blossomed in my mind: her arm . With a sour certainty, I eyed her cleanly wrapped wound.
    “A horse kicked you, you said.”
    She nodded but said nothing. Her face remained an expressionless mask, but I thought I saw a hint of something flicker in her steel-grey eyes.
    “It wasn’t your horse. You had already found the rebels. You knew they were coming!”
    “Yes, Scriber Dennon,” she admitted with a sigh. “I did.”
    “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have been safely away yesterday!”
    “My company was sent out as scouts, and Sylla and I only encountered a small party. Three men, likely scouts themselves,” Bryndine explained. “They surprised us and wounded me, but they were not skilled; we dispatched them quickly. I had orders to report to the First Company outside Barleyfield before spreading word of anything we found, to avoid starting a panic.”
    “You had orders ? You just told me that the First Company likely