He looked at Gabriel’s rough map in the dirt. “Still three days away.”

They both shook their heads. “Three days,” Gabriel said. “And fight him, win, and get back.”

The next day there were twenty days left until the gates were open, or so Gabriel had to believe. He rose and mounted his griffon immediately. He had a brief conversation with Mortirmir and launched, leaving his column to continue racing east and north. They were entering the central hills of Galle and there were deep woods along the crest of every ridge.

They would slow down the column. The imperial force was fast, but it was not faster than rumour and smoke.

And there was nothing to be done about it. Gabriel spiraled up into the morning, caught the sun peeking over the eastern hills, and then rose still farther.

He used Mortirmir’s technique, and located a dozen places of apparent hermetical calm in the first minutes. And hour later he tried again, labeling them in the aethereal. His faith in Mortirmir’s method dwindled, and in the end, he stopped circling and had Ariosto fly north and east to Du Corse. It took him almost three hours to reach the Gallish army.

Du Corse was moving south and west, with a long line of pages moving ahead of his force. Gabriel circled for a while, and finally landed.

Du Corse came to meet him with a dozen men of his retinue. They knelt. Gabriel was still not used to men kneeling, and he smiled.

“What do you have for magisters?” he asked, by way of a greeting.

Du Corse shook his head. “I freed two men who’d been arrested by the church in Lucrece as witches.” He shrugged. “I have the creature who served the Bishop of Lorica. That is, the former bishop.”

“Tell me about the not-dead,” Gabriel said. “I need to be back in the air in an hour.”

“It was not even a fight, my liege,” Du Corse said, as if Gabriel really was his liege. “We stumbled across a . . . nest . . . of the things. We slaughtered them.”

“Damn,” Gabriel said. “I wanted you to be in contact with the Necromancer. That sounds . . .” He shook his head. “No idea. I hate being in a hurry. Is the ground clear behind you?”

“All the way to the coast,” Du Corse said with satisfaction. “The feudal levies are combing the countryside, but I think we’re safe.” He grinned his ferocious grin. He reminded Gabriel a little of Tom Lachlan. “In as much as anything is safe. How far is your army?”

“Three days’ march,” Gabriel said. “The army of Dar is here, at Cattilon. We’re here, at La Forêt d’Aix.”

Du Corse whistled. “And we hope the Necromancer is between our claws.”

“And we hope that our other enemy is watching us gather shipping at Lucrece,” Gabriel said. “You did order that?”