They answered by pulling back—but only until they were out of range. Clearly, they hoped to lure Matt’s men closer. And just as clearly, they feared Belleger’s rifles. They could not know how many soldiers the First Captain had hidden behind him.

Matt dispatched a few scouts to keep watch on the enemy. He set his sentries. Then he felt safe for the night.

He was mistaken. Hours after the sun’s setting, his sentries reported a few small fires upwind of his camp. The men who set them must have carried their own wood. There was nothing to burn on these hills in winter.

With a handful of soldiers, Matt rode out to investigate. They were the first to smell the smoke. By the time they reached the fires, the flames had been abandoned—and Matt and his few companions were feeling sick. Reeling, they stamped out the fires and tried to ride back to their camp. Before they reached it, they pitched from their horses, vomiting up their guts. Their eyes burned. Matt’s were bleeding.

Soon riflemen came to find them. But by then, a third of the First Captain’s command had fallen ill.

The soldiers needed someone to lead them. Sub-Commander Hellick gave the order to flee. Matt and the sickest men had to be tied in their saddles while the whole company ran. Whenever they felt safe enough to rest, more small fires appeared upwind of them, and they fled again.

Fortunately, they were not pursued. Keeping a discreet distance, the raiders simply followed. If they were in a hurry to reach the Open Hand, they did not show it.

They may have been timing their approach to arrive when Rile’s army struck.

When General Klamath brought the First Captain’s tidings to the King, Bifalt did not waste his energy wondering how the raiders had devised a poisonous smoke. The fact of it was enough. Instead, he remembered a tale that Klamath had told him long ago. In the village of Klamath’s birth, there had been a Magister of pestilence who had used his theurgy to heal diseases, infections, and tumors. Perhaps—

To the General’s grim scowl, King Bifalt said, “Fifty riflemen, Klamath. I will not risk more. Instruct them to leave the enemy alone. They must aid the First Captain’s men. And prevent more of those venomous fires.

“Send Magisters of pestilence as well. Do what you must to compel them.” The Magisters Bifalt knew would not volunteer to leave their homes and risk death on an instant’s notice. “I want them riding south in an hour.”

After Klamath hurried to obey, King Bifalt paced around and around in his rooms, waiting for more reports. He refused to think about Matt’s plight. That smoke was just one example of the horrors that sorcery could inflict on ordinary men. While he cursed to himself, he concentrated on reviewing his preparations for the coming siege.