“Jeck,” he said under his breath, “we will need more men.”

The bodyguard glanced at the travois. “As you say, Majesty.” Turning away, he hurried for his horse. In moments, he was pounding up the ridge-side.

“How is it possible?” asked Klamath. “To survive an avalanche—?”

“We uncovered iron in the frame of his carriage,” answered the rifleman. “And Tchwee— The interpreter, General. He was strong. He must have taken some of the weight. We found him crouched over the master. Mangled almost to pulp. But without him—” The man’s voice trailed away.

A few more strides took King Bifalt to the side of the travois. He looked down at the ravaged form of Set Ungabwey.

At the best of times, the caravan-master could hardly stand. He never left his carriage because he could not walk without help. Now he lay as if he were being crushed by his own vast bulk. Both of his legs and one of his arms were badly broken. Shards of bone jutted through the skin. The blood pulsing weakly from his mouth spoke of splintered ribs, suggested pierced lungs or other organs. His heavy flesh slumped to both sides. If it had been softer, it might have dripped off him.

But there was still life in his eyes. Somehow— He needed only a moment to find and focus on King Bifalt.

Like a bubble of blood bursting, he breathed, “King.”

Bifalt lowered himself to one knee, leaned over Master Ungabwey. He spoke in a choked whisper. “You tried to save us. You have paid too high a price.”

Like a gasp, the fat man answered, “It is nothing.” He managed a wet cough to clear his throat. “I expected death. I did not expect to fail.”

Through his teeth, Bifalt rasped, “Be still, Master. Keep your strength. Men will come soon. They will bear you more gently. You will have the best care our physicians can give.”

If nothing else, they would give him herbs to dull the pain while he died.

With his good arm, Set Ungabwey tried to clutch at King Bifalt, but he was too weak. “Hear me, King.” The words came in a rush. “My daughters are safe. In the library. You must save them.” Another cough racked his chest. “I am not done.”

With that, he closed his eyes as if to seal a promise.

Not done? thought the King. Not done? Look at you.

He did not believe that the master would live to reach the army’s physicians.

Nevertheless Set Ungabwey went on breathing. His heart kept forcing a thin beat of blood from his mouth.