"Which is why we've planned it for the day of the new guard rotation," Marcus said.
"That's right." Rogan smiled grimly at the young soldier. "We'll leave during the day, then after sunset I'll assemble my men in the forest outside the prison camp. When we get the signal from inside, we'll strike."
"What signal?" Tiesto asked. "What if you don't see it?"
"Amber is an Alturan enchantress, Your Highness," Rogan said. "She said she would raise a green light — green for Altura. She'll make sure we see it. And when we see the light, that's when we strike."
"The timing's tight," Tiesto muttered.
"It is," Rogan said. "We only have the night to free the prisoners and march with those who are able back to Ralanast's eastern gate, keeping the enemy at bay the entire time. Your Highness, you must start the revolt at dawn."
"And finally…" Marcus said.
"Finally we all march through the city for the main southern gate, where the Lord Marshal and an army of Alturans and Halrana will be itching to get in."
"It's a good plan," Tiesto said, nodding. "But it all comes down to the prison camp."
"It comes down to a lot more than that, Your Highness," Rogan said.
"Marcus, please, leave us alone for a moment," Prince Tiesto said.
Marcus placed his hand over his heart and looked briefly at the ground, before glancing at Rogan and then departing.
"Look, if this is about the High Animator's request, I'm afraid this is one battle that won't be won by magic. In three days time, it's the hearts of men that will be the deciding factor between victory and defeat. Without essence, and a lot of time…"
Prince Tiesto smiled. "No, Marshal Rogan…"
"Marshal…?"
"This isn't about the Halrana Lexicon, Rogan, this is about you."
Rogan scowled. "What about me?"
"It isn't right to call the man who trains bladesingers 'just Rogan'. Like it or not, you are a leader, and you need to have a title accordingly."
"Who says so?" Rogan asked.
"I say so," Prince Tiesto's voice firmed, and Rogan's eyebrows went up. "Here," the prince said.
The Halrana noble handed Rogan a device to be worn on his breast. It was a raj hada, with the hand of Halaran on one side and the sword and flower of Altura on the other. The colours green and brown were interwoven. The insignia was that of a marshal.
"What is it?"
Prince Tiesto snorted. "Don't be a fool, Rogan. You know what it is. I'm making you a marshal, and don't think High Lord Rorelan or Lord Marshal Miro won't back me up."
"Don't expect me not to wear armoursilk," Rogan said.
"Marshal, underneath that, you can wear whatever you like. Lord Marshal Miro is a bladesinger, why should you be any different?"
Rogan thought about what Amelia had said. Perhaps this was his destiny?
"Fine, Your Highness." Rogan frowned, taking the badge. "Marshal it is."
As the newly promoted marshal turned to leave, Prince Tiesto spoke again. "And Marshal Rogan?"
"What is it?"
"Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for helping my people."
"Prince Tiesto?"
"Yes?"
"You've got a busy few days ahead of you. You'd better get to work."
37
"I SWEAR that's what the guard said," Samora said. "Moragon's away in the east, and the babe went with him. I'm sorry, Amber, don't be upset."
"I just hate not knowing where he is and if he's safe." Amber wiped at her eyes.
"It's better that the babe isn't here. He might get caught up in the fighting."
"I know," Amber said. "Scratch it, I know. But how will I ever get him back to me?"
"You'll find a way," Samora said.
"Thanks for doing that for me, I know it wasn't easy."
Samora shrugged. "He just wanted a grope. I've had worse."
"You'd better go," Amber said. "In fact, we'd better not speak again until tomorrow night."
"I understand." Samora nodded. The Halrana woman squeezed Amber's shoulder, and then left the tent.
When she was alone, Amber waited for the space of twenty breaths, and then lifted up her sleeping pallet to reveal a place where the dirt had been recently stirred. With her wooden plate she scooped at the loose dirt, digging deep and forming a pile at the side of the hollow. Finally she hit something hard, and with her breath running hard, she dropped the plate and felt in the hole with her hands. She withdrew the big glass bowl, and then a moment later Amber withdrew the tiny flask of essence and the scrill that just a few days ago Lina had brought her.