They were in position. Kestrel waited with the gunners behind a thin layer of trees bordering a hill that overlooked the road. A breeze flipped the leaves. Trees creaked. The gunners, mostly Herrani, nervously looked up at Arin’s project.

It had taken nearly all the soldiers the better part of the day, using two-handed saws from the supply wagon. Axes, too. And, of course, the rope.

Arin had tied each tree trunk and staked the rope deep down into the forest floor. Each tree was unique, its height and width and lean calling for a different network of ropes, set at different angles. After the trees had been tied into place, soldiers sawed them at their base—though not quite all the way through.

“When the Valorians come,” Arin had said, “cut the ropes.”

“You want to kill me,” Roshar had said. “Embarrassingly. A prince meets his end in battle. He doesn’t get squashed by a falling tree. I bet you tied those things all wrong.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Arin’s mouth. The air was gritty with sawdust. “After every thing,” he told Kestrel, “I wouldn’t let you be harmed by a tree.”

“Me,” Roshar said pointedly. “You mean me.”

But Arin had already gone. Soon after, Roshar left in the opposite direction.

The plan was an ambush.

“What formation would the general use,” Roshar had asked her, “for a march along a road of that width?”

Kestrel had paused, fingers on the worn map.

“She can’t know for certain,” Arin said.

“Here’s what I would do if I were him,” she said. “I’d be in the front ranks, where I’d keep most of my cavalry—the officers. New recruits would be behind the supply wagons, which I’d keep in the middle. Infantry in the back, with a few trusted officers just in case. I’d choose officers who wouldn’t complain about being in the rearguard with the lower ranks. They’d be experienced. They’d be good. But there’d be few. Archers and crossbows flanking the regiment, ready to target the hills. He’ll know there’s a risk of a skirmish. It’d make sense, if we were readying for a siege at Errilith, to send small groups to harass their progress north. He’d expect the supplies to be targeted. If we destroy the wagons, we cut the legs out from under him. It’s not that an attack would be a complete surprise. It’s the force of our attack, and our ability to use a weapon he can’t contend with, that give us our best advantages.”

“So we give him what he expects,” Arin said. “A small company of ours can attack the front lines, draw the general’s attention while our larger force prepares to bucket the rearguard. The general should pull his defenses forward. We might even separate them from the center. Their officers wear metal armor. Volleys from the guns will be more effective on the center and rear. The gunners should drop as many soldiers as possible around the wagons—and, gods help us, the cannons.”

“A small company attacking the Valorians’ front ranks,” Roshar mused. “How delightfully suicidal. Perfect for you, Arin.”

“But,” said Kestrel.

They both looked at her, and she could tell from the set of Arin’s jaw that Roshar had said only what Arin already planned to do anyway. Arin’s eyes were overcast. They had a distant, difficult regard that sent a chill down her spine. It made her wonder whether Arin’s god was real after all. If he was there right now inside Arin, whispering to him.

“You command this force,” Kestrel told Roshar. “It should be you. Arin can attack the rearguard.”

With a smirk, Roshar said, “No, that pleasant task is mine. You, little ghost, stay with the guns.”

Kestrel’s fingers tightened. “You’re placing me in the safest position.”

“I’m placing you where you won’t be seen by your father.”

She thought of the general seeing her. She thought of him not seeing her. Both thoughts were paralyzing.

“You’re not so different from one of those guns,” Roshar said. “A secret weapon. The general must know you’ve escaped the work camp, must guess where you went—if you survived the tundra. But will he think you’re here, with this army? He might, eventually. He might recognize your hand in these dealings whether he sees you or not. But I would rather—and I’m sure Arin would very much rather—that he have no confirmation of your presence.”

She started to protest.

“You swore an oath to me,” Roshar said cheerfully. “A Valorian honors her word.”