“I think the archbishop is now in command. De Vrailly is—not himself.” Alcaeus shrugged. “At any rate, the archbishop has summoned the levies of the whole of Jarsay, the Albin and the Brogat. He’s sitting at Second Bridge and fortifying his camp.”

Gelfred nodded. “That goes with what my people tell me. We picked up a deserter who says that he ordered Corcy’s sons hanged, but de Vrailly cancelled it.”

Gabriel’s pulse quickened. “Would de Vrailly change sides?”

Alcaeus shook his head. “If Kronmir could do it in person—perhaps. It would take a delicate touch and a great deal of—how do Albans put it?—sugar. The man is a monster. But no. Not where we are now.” He held up a hand. “It is the north to which we must see.”

He and Gelfred held the corners of a map—more a sketch.

“Pardon me, that I must speak of hard things.” Alcaeus put a hand—very tentatively—on his captain’s arm.

Gabriel nodded.

“The sorcerer has taken Ticondaga. His forces increase every day—the northern Wild is flocking to him.” He shrugged. “Ser John Crayford and Ser Ricar have the northern army at Broadalbin north of Albinkirk. They have some survivors from Ticondaga, including your brother Aneas. I am to tell you that the duchess and earl both died in the taking.” Alcaeus paused. “I’m sorry.”

“I already knew. But Gavin will have to be told in the morning. I told him—I felt it in the aethereal. He will be glad Aneas is alive.” Gabriel tried to smile, but nothing came. “I will be glad, too, when I have some gladness in me.”

“I have an imperial messenger from Ser John. He has four hundred lances and he’s ordering out the shire troops, but he will not attempt to make a stand in the wilderness. He wants us to know he’s been fighting every day.”

Gabriel tried to see it. If Thorn was at Ticondaga and all the creatures of the Wild were with him…

“Where is Ser John?” he asked.

“Broadalbin, north of Albinkirk. His messenger bird reported that he fears for Dorling.” Alcaeus paused. “I thought that we believed Dorling unassailable, because of our… friend.”

Gabriel stroked his beard. “I’ve made a number of mistakes in the last few weeks, Alcaeus. The greatest of them was assuming that Thorn was less gifted than I am. He’s not. He’s as willing to take risks. Suddenly he’s daring. He may risk Dorling. He may even be right to.”

“There’s more,” Alcaeus said. “Harcourt on the west wall fell to the Faery Knight yesterday. I didn’t hear—the message went to Albinkirk by bird and I only have it from Ser John. Another army crossed the Great River just east of N’pano over a week ago, from the north.”

“Oh, sweet Christ,” Gelfred said. The man who never swore.