Ser Gavin waved for drink, and Grazias, who had survived the day, and who bid fair to be the best squire Gavin had ever had, produced a flask of Candian wine and began to hand it around, so that in ten sips of liquor, the Queen of Faery, the Earl of the North Wall, the Patriarch of Liviapolis, and the Duchess Mogon drank with Alcaeus and 1Exrech and Lord Gregario and Ser Shawn and Donald Dhu.

The last swig Ser Gavin handed to his squire.

“Here,” he said. “Finish this.”

Grazias looked around the firelit circle, and took the bottle. He bowed, and drained it.

“Kneel,” Gavin said. He knighted the young man in one blow to the shoulder, and turned to face them.

“We haven’t won,” he said. “In fact, we probably can’t do that again. I’m still unclear why Ash so spectacularly failed to capitalize on his advantages.”

“We haven’t lost yet,” Alcaeus said. “And Ser Ranald is beginning to unload at Southford.”

Ser Shawn nodded. “Albinkirk proper is under attack,” he said.

“Where the hell is the emperor?” Gregario asked. “He said he’d be here two days ago.”

Tamsin’s eyelashes fluttered.

“I wish I’d seen you drop the daemon,” Shawn was saying to the duchess.

“I’ll dance it for you, man,” she said.

Over fifteen miles away, there was a titanic explosion. The earth rumbled, and there was a spray of light into the air, so that for a moment, every man and woman and Qwethnethog cast a dark shadow on the new-fallen snow.

Tamsin stood up straight. “Desiderata is in Lissen Carak,” she said. “She is facing Ash.” She narrowed her eyes. And then closed them. “The will is failing.”

The distant lightning played on the abbey like a storm in the mountains. They watched it, mere spectators.

“So,” Gregario said. “Tomorrow?”

Ser Gavin shrugged. “Today worked because we had a ton of luck and a very simple plan,” he said. “And we lost ten battles’ worth of people. Can we even fight again tomorrow?”

Alcaeus shrugged. “My people only fought in the last hour, and they were victorious,” he said. “Even now, a man is saying he had a vision of the Virgin.”

“My people are mostly dead,” Mogon said. “I pray that the Sossag have been loyal, and my eggs and nests are safe, or we are done as a people.”

Gregario frowned. “My knights are exhausted. I’ve lost a third of my horses.”

1Exrech nodded. His voiceless voice clicked. “Wine excellent. Fight tomorrow.” His mandibles opened halfway, a fairly horrible sight that allowed those standing near him to see straight down the hairs of his outer throat to his first stomach.

The wight belched. He clacked his mandibles. “Every hour, the scent of truth brings me recruits. Tomorrow, I will have twice what I had today. Ash is not strong. We, together, are strong.”