Two hours after the confession, Hajin found Seret walking the rear sentries, his sword still sheathed while he talked quietly. Helen lingered at the adjoining post while Hajin jabbed a thumb toward a lone dune sitting beyond the parked wagons.
"Three minutes, Captain," he said, keeping his hand below the sentry's crossbow.
"We practice the handoff once, somewhere the wounded won't wake every time we swap."
Seret glanced at the dune and then down at his own sword, while Helen finally stepped away from her post. She stopped between them while Brand kept watching the eastern approach, and left the request hanging until she understood it.
"What sort of practice?"
"A short spar," Hajin answered, patting the chain coiled at his waist.
"Slow first, faster once we're warm, then one scrape against stone so you can try taking the line when he stops."
The captain studied the links while a gust shoved the wagon canvas behind him, flapping its edge against his scabbard.
