Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 447
talk.
He wanted to talk.
Lavin shuddered, and closed the flap of the tent against
the chill. He wished he could sleep, but it was impossible. He
wished... he wished he could run.
Take her, and run.
He moved to the map table, where the sappers’ charts
lay, and drew his newly-ringed finger along a line that crossed
the palace wall. He had rewarded the thief Enneas with his life
for allowing this line to be drawn. If all worked according to
plan, he would shower the old grave robber with jewels.
Take her and run.
Maybe he would.