More angrily, the King ordered Heren Flisk to the overworked infirmary. If the Captain’s dislocated shoulder was not set soon, he might never regain the use of that arm. In any case, he looked like he was dying on his feet. His King had asked too much of him. Bifalt’s anger was directed at himself.

For a while, the King stayed with the pyre and its mourners, watching wood and bodies burn like his heart. Then he and his bodyguards went to look out over the ruin of the bay’s defenses.

Along the way, he dispatched a messenger with a summons for Second Captain Hegels. He wanted Hegels to take command of the opposition here. Perhaps riflemen could slow the enemy’s ascent from the strand.

Four other people accompanied him. Commander Forguile was battered and bruised, obviously weary; but he wore his condition with a smile. Magister Trench’s toughness was more mental than physical: he had hardly exerted himself during the battles. As if to prove himself, he came dragging Magister Whimper. Like her fellow drought-wielders, she had done nothing since her arrival except watch two of her comrades shot and lose another over the precipice. Despite her acid nature, she looked frightened out of her mind. And Magister Brighten followed the others, stumbling with exhaustion and grim-faced, but determined to have her say.

In shattering cold and bitter winds at the head of the road, King Bifalt studied what had become of his preparations for Rile’s coming. The sight of the smashed cannon and wrecked emplacements made pain throb in his forehead, but he did not look away. He had expected something like this. Surely he had expected it? But not so soon, or at such cost.

He said nothing about the fierce strangers who had attacked the cannoneers. He believed that he understood what had happened. Queen Estie’s only message had warned him about two similar men and the priest, Father Knout. Where there had been two, there could be twenty, or two hundred. He did not try to imagine how a large force had crossed the Line River to strike here. To his mind, the crucial point was the connection between the fanged strangers and Rile’s priests. Magister Pillion had seen Father Skurn’s power restored. Father Skurn must have summoned the attack. Now he was dead. There were no more priests in Belleger. King Bifalt felt sure that the strangers would not threaten the bay’s defenders again.

Nailed to his duty, he spoke with his temporary advisers about other matters. He wanted to know what they thought sorcery and rifles might do against the Great God’s forces here.