As the rider hurried away, Forguile asked, “Do you suppose, Majesty, that Rile’s sorcerers wear distinctive garments? Will they resemble his priests?”

“We can hope,” rasped Bifalt. Any distinguishing sign would help the marksmen choose their targets.

With that, he let the three Magisters and Commander Forguile return to the shelter of the kitchens. With his bodyguards, he went back to the pyre. There he told his people that the time had come to abandon the encampment. He had given the necessary orders before he left Belleger’s Fist. A train of wagons would arrive soon to begin carrying away everyone who could be spared from the last defense. King Bifalt hated leaving anyone in the enemy’s path, but he had to resist the invasion somehow.

When they dispersed to pack up their meager belongings, he went with them to offer any help they might need—and to make sure that they left nothing Rile’s forces might find useful.

As soon as General Klamath emerged from the bunkhouse, however, Bifalt put him in charge of the evacuation. Rubbing his head, Bifalt ordered the Magisters of lightning to accompany him back to the Open Hand. No doubt the Second Captain’s efforts would be weakened without them. But they were spent in any case; and he expected to need them later. The riflemen he had brought with him, he left to Klamath. When Commander Forguile and Captain Flisk joined him, the King with his small company began the cold ride back to the Hand.

He had far too many lives on his conscience. They drove him like the pain in his skull. His failures were too expensive.

The halls of the Fist felt empty without Queen Estie. Forsaken, colder. Prince Jaspid was there, of course. Prince Lome. Land-Captain Erepos. Royal Surveyor Wheal fretting over King Bifalt’s plans to defend the city. Purse-Holder Grippe with nothing to do except number the men he could not afford to pay. Only Captain of the Count Crickin was absent, harrying Bellegerins across the south of the realm to leave their homes. In his grim way, the King was glad to see them all. But they did not comfort him. None of them could take Estie’s place.

Soon after her message, he had received a similar warning from Chancellor Sikthorn. Later, messages had begun to arrive from Commander Soulcess, increasingly frantic appeals for more men to defend Amika. King Bifalt had ignored most of them. But now, while the enemy remained in the bay, he felt that he could afford to heed Soulcess. He sent a rider to Maloresse with his promise that he would give Amika a hundred riflemen. They would depart in two days.

No doubt, Soulcess would object to that delay. But Bifalt wanted Amika’s best-known officer, Ennis Forguile, to lead those riflemen, and Forguile was exhausted to the edge of his astonishing endurance. He needed at least a little rest.