The remnants of Master Ungabwey’s caravan were soldiers, as Bifalt had assumed. They were easily identified. Their garments were torn, stained with sweat, and filthy. They must have worn themselves to shreds searching for survivors in the ruins of the caravan. Some of them had been hurt, no doubt by falling rocks, or by falling themselves. The King saw a broken arm here, a gashed forehead there; other wounds. In one way, however, they had fared better than the First Captain’s riflemen and the soldiers Matt had been sent to reinforce. They did not look like men who had learned to fear the air they breathed.

Bunched together on their mounts in front of King Bifalt, Matt’s command formed a frightened, flinching wall. He could not see the travois or its burden.

He expected General Klamath to address his returning soldiers at once. Instead, Klamath gave his first attention to Ulla. He pulled the boy around him, held him so that they sat face to face. “Hear me, Ulla,” said Klamath as if he did not see the fear in the boy’s face. “These will be my last commands. Find your father. He is secured on one of the horses. You will think that he is dead, but he lives. He will live.

“Tell him that you both have been released from Belleger’s service. You have done enough. You will be given a place together in the Open Hand. Care will be provided. And when he is well enough for a journey, you will return home to Amika.”

Ulla did not speak. He stared at Klamath briefly. Then he flung his arms around the General’s neck, hugged him hard.

A moment later, the boy was gone, running among the horses to find his father.

Now King Bifalt understood. He had forgotten that Ulla was Amikan; and he could have guessed that Hellick was not the only Amikan Matt had taken with him. Klamath’s consideration for his young aide, and for the boy’s father, was typical of him. The dampness in his eyes as he sent Ulla away was typical. The King approved. He would have announced the same release and care for the stricken riflemen, but it was not his place to do so. They were General Klamath’s to command or set free. Klamath would not forget.

Urging his mount forward, King Bifalt approached the man who had assumed Matt’s command, sub-Commander Hellick. At once, the King demanded, “Where is the First Captain?”

Hellick pointed behind him. “There, Majesty.”

A short distance away, several soldiers had dismounted to gather around a horse. Carefully, they were untying the ropes that kept Matt in his saddle. As the King approached, they lowered him to the cold ground, stretched him out on his back.

King Bifalt vaulted out of his saddle, strode closer.