Studying Osen Tal’s charcoal map of the northern service path under the ward lamp, Ilyra calculated the enemy force waiting at the top of that rock-cut gallery. “According to the shrine servant, Assistant Examiner Reth Mal has two inner-council guard detachments with him, and Commander Keth Or’s recovery squad was last seen patrolling the northern road,” Ilyra said, her brow creasing in tactical check. “Even if Keth Or’s right wrist is still stiff from Daro’s cut at White Heron Hall, that puts two Jade officers and at least a dozen Bronze guards within call of the northern chamber.”
She looked up from the map at Seyun and Daro. “When Arel Fen left us two shrine guards at the snow bridge, he returned to the eastern road post where twenty loyal outer-hall White Heron spearmen are stationed—students who trained under Hall Mistress Soran and despise Osen’s old trial faction. If I send a fast rider to the eastern post tonight and summon twenty or thirty White Heron students to march up the ridge with us, we can hold the outer hall in force while we extract Halin.”
It was a sound, textbook military proposal. The natural instinct of an officer trained in a great chartered house where difficult problems were solved by assembling a disciplined formation of spears. Before Seyun could reply, Daro Kesh shook his head firmly and tapped his scarred forefinger right on the kneeling stone silhouettes Osen had sketched along the service path.
