The enemy will rose and cast, and Gabriel’s passive shield of hope and joy swatted it to earth. Gabriel didn’t even realize that his wave front was as wide as the front of the whole red banda; that as he went forward, it went forward, like a great power of the Wild.

Edmund’s sweating apprentices dropped the trail on Blanche, the first falconet. Cat Turell, eyes squinting through the dust, traversed the tube until the mouth was squarely in the center of the spear-things phalanx.

Another apprentice came forward with a wooden plug bound with twine; inside were one hundred and forty four iron balls. It went into the dragon’s mouth.

Morgon Mortirmir spread his arms.

“Everyone ready?” he said. He raised both eyebrows and favoured his wife with a look.

She blew him a kiss.

The Ifriquy’an kid whirled the porte-fire through the air as if he’d been doing it all his life and put it to the touch hole of the falconet.

Twenty four iron balls blew through a corner of the enemy phalanx, passing diagonally through the dense-packed things.

A shrill shrieking erupted.

Kaitlin, gonne two, fired.

Clarissa, gonne three, fired.

Morgon cast. In the real, he and Petrarcha and Tancreda were momentarily outlined in light, and then an uncountable number of lines of fire arced away into the heavens. They burst, all together, in tens of thousands of lines of angry red that raced earthward, arcing and turning at impossible angles like lightning on a dark day.

All this in the time a congregation might say “Amen.”

They struck all together silently.

Gabriel motioned with his sword. “Forward,” he said. He nodded to Payam, whose Mamluks were now filling the field behind the company. The Ifriquy’an waved. The Mamluks were deploying from column into line at a canter.

“What is happening?” he asked.

Michael turned his horse. “The Odine have formed up a great army to invade,” he said. “We’re pulling it to pieces. Just as we planned. Morgon is now pounding their wormy masters.”

“Il Conte Simone is now turning their flank,” Payam motioned with his Fell Sword. “Perhaps I should join him?”

Gabriel shook his head. “There’s no flank to turn,” he said. “This is not a formed host. The will . . . that is, this will . . . They weren’t ready. It isn’t ready.” He shook his head. “It is what I dreamed.” He turned to Michael. “Go see what the left is doing. Pavalo, on my word, I want you to exchange lines with the casa. In a little while, we will face the Odine.”

Payam nodded. “Allah hath a thousand hands to chastise,” he said with a smile. “And we have brought a few thousand more.” He smiled broadly. “We have faced the Odine a few times.”

Gabriel went back to watching the company.

The enemy phalanx stood its ground in the center, and died. Too late they attempted to charge, but their cohesion was failing them, and the gaps torn in them by gonnes and shafts were too great to heal.