“At the Elinarch,” Amara said, to spare her husband’s jaw, “he heated the paving stones first, to drive assaulting Canim off them and into the town’s buildings. Then he set the buildings on fire.”

Riva stared out at the plain of fire before them and shuddered. “Ruthless.”

“Indeed,” Amara said.

“The boy finishes what he begins,” Bernard said. His mouth quirked up at one corner. “His Highness, the boy.”

Riva turned to look at the two of them thoughtfully, frowning. “Do you think he’s really on the way?”

“Said he was,” Bernard said.

“But he has so few men.”

Bernard snorted. “Boy didn’t have anyone but an unarmed slave with him when he stopped the Marat at Second Calderon.” He turned to face Riva and met his eyes. “He says he’s coming to fight, believe him.”

Lord Riva stared back at Bernard, his eyes thoughtful. Out on the plain, the fires had begun to die down—leaving half a mile of red-hot coals underfoot. The air over the plain wavered madly in the heat. Burning vord chitin smelled utterly hideous, she noted. There was a dull roar of windstreams overhead as the High Lords, their task completed, returned to friendly lines.

“Bernard,” Amara said quietly.

Her husband glanced out at the plain and nodded. He turned to Giraldi, and said, “Sound the retreat. We fall back to the next wall.”

Giraldi saluted and passed the order along to the trumpeter. Soon, the signal was echoing up and down the length of the wall. Centurions began barking orders. Men began to withdraw down the stairs leading from the walls and form into their units. Marat gargants had rolled up a few moments before, their long, slow steps covering ground rapidly. The wounded were being loaded onto beasts whose saddlecloths had been prepared to carry hurt men safely.

“Count Calderon,” Riva said, his voice becoming somewhat stilted and formal, “I realize that our relationship has been... a distant one. And that you have doubtless already worked very hard to prepare the valley’s defenses. Nonetheless, I should like to volunteer my skills and those of my engineers to do whatever we can to help.”

Bernard eyed him again.

“I’m not a very good soldier, Your Excellency,” Riva said. “But I know about building. And some of the finest architects and engineers in the Realm ply their trade in my city.”

Bernard glanced at Amara, who smiled very faintly and pretended to be watching for the enemy.

“Be honored, Your Grace,” Bernard said. “Giraldi, here, will show you to Pentius Pluvus. He’s kept books and schedules for us on this project. He’ll know where you and your folks can help the most.”

Riva offered Bernard his hand. They clasped forearms briefly, and Riva smiled. “Good luck to you, Count.”

Bernard answered him with small, sad smile. “To all of us.”