They would not be enough.

During that time, Bifalt would have welcomed the intrusion of Magister Avail’s voice in his mind. But from the Last Repository, he received only silence.

Early in the morning eight days after Matt had left the Open Hand, King Bifalt and General Klamath rode out to the same ridge from which they had watched Master Ungabwey’s caravan depart, the high ground beyond the army’s training-fields. Alerted by Hellick’s signals, they went to meet the First Captain’s return with his poisoned company.

King Bifalt would have preferred to face this duty alone. But the General belonged with him, and he could not refuse Jeck, Spliner, and Boy. For reasons of his own, Klamath brought his young aide Ulla with him on his horse.

Prince Jaspid had remained behind. In the absence of other officers, he had taken reluctant command of the army’s training.

Bifalt was in no mood to wait, but he could spare the time. The host following Matt’s company had slowed its advance. And in the Bay of Lights, Rile’s army had not begun to march on the Hand. The chore of unloading so many ships was prodigious. An overwhelming force could not be landed, equipped, and provisioned without immense effort. Three days ago, Second Captain Hegels had believed that the enemy would be ready to move by now. Since then, he had extended his estimate. He did not expect the siege of the Open Hand to begin for four more days.

King Bifalt had time to treat men like Mattwil’s father with the respect they deserved.

Nevertheless he dreaded this duty. Few things infuriated him more than seeing his people stricken, afflicted, or killed when he had not been there to fight beside them. The fact that Matt’s company had been ravaged by sorcery only made him angrier. The riflemen struggling to return had earned sympathy from their King. They needed compassion and understanding. Bifalt knew that. But he had none to give. He should have been with them.

He missed Elgart. The former spy would have said something to ease the waiting.

Only an hour or two after dawn, the hills below and beyond the ridge still cast long shadows. There were no storms on the horizon, but unruly clouds scudded overhead, shedding patches of gloom. With so many sick soldiers, the First Captain’s company would come along the valleys to make the riding as easy as possible. They were not in sight yet.

According to Matt’s earlier signals, his men had managed to collect a few survivors from the destruction of Master Ungabwey’s caravan. King Bifalt assumed they were riflemen, the train’s rearguard. The signals suggested other possibilities.

Perhaps the General had brought Ulla for his keen sight. Suddenly, the boy pointed at a line of deep shadows a bit west of south. “There, sir.”