They did not take the captives all the way back to Grimridge before turning north again.
That decision changed the feel of the morning more than the blood at the counting gate, more than the broken cart in the race, more than the chalk board still streaked white under Mara's arm. Until now, every gain had still passed through the hall before the next move began. A room stripped, a ledger opened under lamp light, a captive forced below for Rowan to measure and hate. This time the board had already given them the next break in the line, and the men still breathing around it had made one thing plain. Rowan's remaining structure was shrinking fast, and anything left with a pulse in it would spend the next hour buying time or ruining ground.
Cassian saw no reason to gift them either.
"The board and two men go back," he said as they came off the ridge above the counting gate. "The rest come with me."
