He did not understand his friend’s recklessness.

The servant and Commander Forguile reached Flisk ahead of the boys and the gunners. Flisk took the mug, gulped cider, and was disappointed that it did not scald his mouth and tongue. He wanted warmth, but his drink had cooled in the sharp air.

Nevertheless he emptied the mug, returned it to the servant, and faced his friend.

Earlier, Forguile had fought wearing only a cloak over his strapped ribs. Now he was bundled in blankets, a cloak, and a rain-cape. His breathing steamed, yet he did not appear to feel the cold. Instead, he seemed unaccountably cheerful.

“Are they ready?” he asked as if the prospect of being incinerated by lightning or shredded by gunpowder pleased him. “The riflemen? The Magisters?”

Flisk managed a nod.

“Do they understand? I will not be amused if I die because some Magister or soldier neglects to defend me.”

“They understand.” The Captain shook his head. The Magisters in particular would be comforted by his orders. They were accustomed to striking from positions of safety. “They know why they are needed. They will do whatever they can.”

Forguile nodded. He may have doubted his friend’s assessment, but he did not have time to argue. The cannoneers were near.

They came in a tight bunch, almost clinging to each other. Like the Commander, they were bundled to the ears. Surrounded by strong men, the boys looked more eager than anxious. They had been drawn to volunteer by the imagined thrill of fighting for Belleger. With cannon.

Well, they were young. Flisk could not remember ever being so young, but he recognized the courage of ignorance when he saw it. They had not learned to believe in their own deaths.

In contrast, the gunners were grim, determined. They knew what they faced too well. Some of them had a different kind of eagerness in their eyes, a desire to deliver violence for revenge or blood-lust. Others did not hide their fear. They loved their families or their homes or their lives. They dreaded losing everything they considered precious. But they did not hang back.

If they could not stop the enemy here, all Belleger might share their fate. Then Amika would fall next.

None of the cannoneers saluted. Captain Flisk and Commander Forguile had never asked for that show of respect. All they had ever required was good work and endurance. The men simply stood ready; and the boys followed their example.

Without hesitation, the Commander stepped forward. “Thank you all.” He sounded confident. “If we survive the next hour, I will thank each of you personally. Or Captain Flisk will, if I”—he gave the men a grin—“am indisposed.

“For the present, now is better than later. Those ships are perfectly placed to receive our welcome. It would be impolite to keep them waiting.

“Choose your teams and come.”