The scout reached beneath his cloak with shaking fingers and withdrew a narrow strip of gray cloth.
Three knots.
One tear through the corner.
A smear of dried mud.
Alistair's signal.
Barek accepted it before anyone else could.
His weathered eyes examined every knot carefully.
Only after several long seconds did he finally lift his gaze.
"It's him."
"Cassian."
Even saying the name seemed to make the air colder.
The scout nodded.
"Captain Alistair's team located a fortified encampment inside the northern ravines."
"How many?" Asarmose asked.
"I couldn't count."
"What did you see?"
The scout forced himself to think.
"Palisades."
A pause.
"Watchtowers."
Another.
"Supply wagons."
He hesitated.
"Mounted patrols."
Caelum folded his arms.
"How disciplined?"
The scout didn't answer immediately.
"They never broke formation."
That earned Barek's attention.
"They changed patrols every quarter bell."
Another pause.
"No unnecessary movement."
"Signals?"
"None."
