Hajin dragged the ransom note out from beneath a river stone beside the northern grate.
Hans held the lantern while Sable checked the ink, and the page named a destination without ever promising Toma's release. Hajin smoothed its creases against his knee as the guards all crowded close, reading their invitation above the marked directions.
"The old kiln road, alone," he read aloud, jabbing his thumb beneath the next line, "no divine Wings, no garrison moving north, or they torch the central grain shed before midnight."
"Wow, what a generous bunch of bastards, they even let me pick the funeral!"
Sable bent her bow and slipped the string into its notch while Hans brought the lantern lower.
"They can sight both sides of that road from above," she said, testing the string against her thumb, "you walk where they want, and they never come close enough for your chain."
"So I don't walk where they want."
He folded the note without tearing the directions away from their threats.
