Before climbing the steep stone stair toward the upper ward of Stonewake, Kezra stopped at the water trough in the outer courtyard where Marn Vance and Tella Corve were waiting beside their handcart. The two basin carriers had been released from the guardroom under the parley terms. Even so, four Host spear guards remained posted at ten paces’ distance. They watched their every breath.
Kezra walked over to the stone trough, dipping her bare fingertips into the freezing water to rinse away the rime that had crusted her cuffs during the climb. She leaned close to Tella, who was pretending to tighten the harness strap on the cart frame.
“Tella,” Kezra murmured. She kept her head low so the sentries on the low roof wall couldn’t read her lips. “When you take the handcart back down the ramp this afternoon, you go straight to Adra Pike at the tool house. Tell her exactly what Hest said at the toll circle.”
Tella didn’t look up from the buckle. “About the sixty bushels of barley?”
“Not the barley,” Kezra whispered, her voice tight with cold urgency. “About the destination. Hest named the target. Krail wants to move this castle to the western bluffs above Oakhaven, at the confluence of the River Leat and the North Road. He intends to use Stonewake as a permanent trade monopoly over the lowland crossroads.”
