A hand seized his hand and placed it on the key in the plaque.

He turned it.

The gate closed in silence.

He let go his nonworking and stood breathing, feeling superb.

Mortirmir leaned around him. “That was spectacular,” he said.

“I liked it,” Gabriel admitted. “Ready the company. Two minutes. All magisters, on me.”

“You need rest,” Sukey said.

“We are out of time. Is everyone fed?” he asked.

Sukey nodded, on the edge of anger. “Fed, and horses foddered. I’m out; unless we send back to Arles or start looting these poor irks, we’re done.” She shook her head. “Of course, I have forty useless wagons of loot and Umroth ivory . . .”

“Not useless,” Gabriel said. “Well done, Sukey. I hope everyone had a nap.” He looked around; there was Michael, his great sword in his hand; there was Tom Lachlan, already dismounted, with the lances of the casa dismounted right behind the white banda; there was No Head, and Francis Atcourt; Sauce, directing Conte Simone’s knights. The vast hall was packed with soldiers; maybe twenty thousand men and women, a few irks, and a single bogglin.

He walked back, pressing through packed and armoured people. He was dripping as he walked, but he wasn’t cold. The people were warming, even this vast place.

He found Blanche. “Wish me luck,” he said. “If this one isn’t it . . .” He shrugged, “Then I don’t know where we are.”

She kissed him. “Go,” she said. She smiled. “You look like a fantastical beast, my love.”

He smiled. His feeling of joy remained, and he squelched back across the hall, and men called out to him, and he paused to kiss Oak Pew on the cheek.

He got back to the pedestal, and he nodded to Mortirmir. “May I borrow your voice?” he asked.

“Of course,” Mortirmir said. He snapped his fingers.

Soldiers.

We have marched and we have fought. Now, I hope, we will find what we seek.

If our guess is correct, this will be a fight. You need to be ready. You have drilled for this. Follow the drill and we will win quickly and with a minimum of fuss.

Ready?

There was a roar. And then three giant cheers, a flood of sound echoing from the high ceiling, three roars that shook the mountain.

Gabriel stood very straight. “Ready?” he called to the red banda, first at the gate.

“Get on wi’ ye,” shouted an archer. Men laughed.

Ready? he asked in the aethereal.

They all answered him; Mortirmir, Tancreda, Petrarcha, and a dozen lesser lights.

He turned the key four places.

And pressed down on the jewel.

Instantly he felt the will fighting him for control of the gate, and his heart soared with victory.

Got them! he yelled.