Zereth had the second line drawn before I'd finished deciding whether the gray scar overhead was going to open again.
I found him in the inner courtyard, a map of the castle's own bones spread across a barrel head that Simon had dragged out from the forge specifically for the purpose, weighted down at the corners with a hammer, a whetstone, and, incongruously, someone's abandoned breakfast bowl. He didn't look up when I approached. He'd stopped needing to confirm my presence by sight years ago; some general's instinct told him where I stood the way it told him where every other piece on his board stood.
"The outer gate has perhaps twenty minutes left in it, My Lord. Your Domain bought us the hour we needed to prepare for that, and I intend to spend every second of it."
"Show me."
