Darion watched the four reach the outer wall of the barracks and stop. They pressed flat against the stone. He had trained them to do that, and it worked, they did it smoothly, no awkwardness, like their bodies already knew how.
He was impressed with the smooth compliance. All his hard work hadn't been in vain after all.
He kept the spyglass on the guard at the entrance.
He was still asleep. Head down on his chest. His spear was propped against the wall next to him at an angle that said he'd put it down, not that he was holding it.
He moved the glass to the far corner. That guard had given up pretending to watch anything. He was just sitting there now, back against the wall, arms folded.
He looked back at his four.
They were waiting. Still and patient. Their green eyes glowed dim in the shadows. He could feel the binding from here in a way, the connection steady in the back of his mind like a held breath.
He kept his voice below a whisper. Barely moved his lips.
