“You will think me selfish,” rasped King Bifalt. “I will be reckless with my life when Rile comes. I mean to be very reckless. But I cannot do what I must if you are not with me. I want you to keep me alive.” He spoke softly, but his voice was hoarse with passion. “I will test you, Brother. No one else can do what I ask of you. Keep me alive.”

The Prince had an open mien. His emotions showed in the muscles around his eyes, the line of his mouth, the clenching of his jaws. Bifalt saw his struggle. Jaspid burned to fling himself into the nearest melee. At the same time, he could not refuse his King’s demand. His task as King Bifalt’s guardian might call on his absolute best. Or it might require him to simply stand there while Bifalt gave the orders for battle. If he had been a man who trembled, his hands would have betrayed that weakness.

Again, he looked away. He did not reply until he had risen to his feet. Then he said as if he were speaking to the far wall, “You know that I will do what I can. You are Belleger’s heart. It cannot withstand the enemy without you.”

He had nothing more to say. Turning sharply, he went to the door and left.

Finally, King Bifalt was alone.

For a time, his brother’s straits lingered, leaving him too restless to think. He trusted Jaspid’s balance. The Prince would not falter when his King needed him. On one point, however, Jaspid did not know his brother. Bifalt might be Belleger’s heart, but he had too little of his own. Estie had taken most of it with her.

Nevertheless brooding was an indulgence he could not afford. Elgart’s return with the el-Algreb had altered his own straits. He needed new plans, or better ones, to take advantage of the gift that Amandis and Flamora had arranged for him.

There was no help for it. He would have to send the horse-warriors against the raiders from the south. Belleger’s army could not fight two armies at once. Perhaps the el-Algreb would have some success even without the skills their new rifles required. And if they failed in the end, they might slow the raiders enough to give Bifalt or General Klamath the time they would need to adjust their own forces.

In the meantime, the King could imagine a way to improve his dream of a fatal last stand in Belleger’s Fist. It did not have to be fatal—if he was clever enough, and could make the necessary preparations in time. That would force Rile to adjust his own plans for the destruction of the city. At the same time, it might give Bifalt a tactical advantage, one that he had not foreseen in his long discussions with Klamath.