The choir, without it, actually stumbled a moment before one voice rose over all the rest, a novice whose pure note towered and led, and then, voice by voice, the others rejoined.

And in the aethereal, a mighty power rattled the gate. It shook Desiderata for a moment; at the instant of victory, there was a new foe.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The gates—the company and Gabriel

There was no opposition. Tom Lachlan led the casa forward the moment the emperor passed the gate, and before Cully had taken a second breath, the casa emerged in fighting formation: knights in front, dismounted, with squires at their shoulders, holding the same spear, and archers in the intervals between lances.

They came through the gate, all together, as they had practiced, because there were so many things they had worried about; they were in superdense order, sixty men wide. Bad Tom was in the center.

The wind burned at them. The sun was rising, so rapidly that they could see it move.

“Tar’s tits,” Tom said. “It is hell.”

Gabriel was at the edge of the cave, looking down at the desert floor below the road. Dust swirled, and the sand moved as if it were alive.

“Halt the advance. I want to scout,” Gabriel snapped. His voice sounded odd.

Cully went back through the gate. And reappeared.

Gabriel allowed himself to smile. “They work,” he said. “Both ways. By God, friends, we may yet be in business.”

The green banda was passed to the front; this contingency had also been envisioned, and the greens filed off and came through mounted, and were followed by a dozen Vardariotes under Kriax, who saluted.

They cursed, too.

Gabriel took Kriax to the edge of the cave. He pointed at the swirling sand.

A vicious mouth emerged and vanished.

The wind blew, dust moved, sand slipped . . .

Legs. A hundred insectile legs, each as long as a tall man’s.

“Green magic doesn’t work here,” Gabriel said. “And the sand is full of those things. Stay on the road.” He turned to Daniel Favour. “The road may be trapped. My chart says we only have to go sixteen miles; those are old imperial miles. I am guessing that takes us to the mountain. It may be defended, and I’m not sure what the hell we do next. But we don’t have time for caution.”

Favour gave a wry smile. His hands were shaking.

Kriax just shrugged. “I should have died a hundred times,” she said. “Maybe today?” She shrugged again.

Tom Lachlan looked at Gabriel. “I want to go me’sel.”

“No,” Gabriel said.

“Ye’r jus’ like yersel!” Bad Tom said.

Gabriel was looking past him. “Go back through, tell everyone to water up. Tell them there’s no battle, and that we need to go like blazes. Tell them what we know: no green magic, hot as hell, sixteen miles.”