“Fifty-four running paces,” he shouted.

He latched the crossbow and put a bolt on the stock, turned, and began to lope down the road toward the mountain.

Wha’hae appeared at the gate and Gabriel opened it. There were three scouts and Gabriel immediately knew there was trouble; all three men were badly shaken, like men who had endured real pain.

“There’s a gap, Cap’n,” Wha’hae said. He was a big man with a big head and a wiry mustache, and fear sat ill on him. “Crawlies came at us over the road.”

“Losses?” Gabriel asked. “No Head!” he roared back in the cavernous hall behind him.

“We only lost one horse. Fuckers came at us—’orrible.” Wha’hae shrugged. “If’n they see movement, maybe.”

Mortirmir was pulling on gloves. “I’ll go,” he said. “They are flesh and whatever. I’ll handle it.”

Gabriel thought for a moment, balancing the squandering of ops against lives and time.

“Go,” he said. “No Head?” In fact, he desperately wanted to go himself. The delay was ripping him apart. He needed to do something.

The man appeared.

“Dan says the gap is fifty-four paces wide. He were running like a deer; bra’est thin’ I e’er seen.”

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“We shot some o’ the fuckers and then—you know? They eat each t’other?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, making a face.

“Favour and Kriax ran for it. Kriax went in some hole. Or it’s quick sand. I wasn’t . . .” Wha-Hae paused. “Any road, Favour made it across and counted. Fifty-four.”

“Kriax?” Gabriel asked.

“Daud the Red pulled her out o’ the sand. Bra’est thing I e’er saw.” Wha’hae was calming, but he wasn’t fully in control of his words.

No Head thought a moment, then went back and started roaring orders at Sukey, who was still at the top of the ramp.

“I’ll need two wagons and the rest o’ the greens,” No Head said over his shoulder. “And my pick o’ men.”

Long Paw appeared.

“Ser Robert?” the emperor nodded at Long Paw. “Your command. There’s a gap in the causeway. Report when you have a bridge or it is untenable. Magister Mortirmir is under your command.” Gabriel looked at the young mage, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Yes, sir,” Mortirmir muttered.

“Wha’ hae—how far?” he asked.

“An hour’s fast ride. Call it eight miles,” Wha’hae answered.

“Paw, as soon as you know it can be bridged, I want a report. And then another messenger so I can start an hour before you complete. We do not want the army strung out on that causeway and then halted, waiting, with the local flora and fauna coming at them.”

“Christ almighty,” Wha’hae said.

Gabriel turned to Michael. “New march order?”