“As you say, Majesty!” Torchlight glittered in Jaspid’s eyes. He sounded suddenly eager, ready to take Master Ungabwey’s place. But he did not stop ordering the riflemen.

He had set four men behind every pillar that offered a clear view of the archway and the stairs, two to shoot while their companions reloaded. Others he assigned to the columns farther back to cover their comrades and the fuses. The later arrivals, he sent to protect the Magisters, the workmen, the tunnel.

King Bifalt nodded. Cursing himself for his decisions and the Great God for whatever happened next, he led Jeck and Malder toward the tunnel.

He found Spliner and Boy, six Magisters, and a crowd of laborers hovering outside a wide hole in the foundation-wall. Among them, he recognized several of the Fist’s servants, but Elgart was not there. On both sides, discarded earth and rock had been piled to extend the tunnel. As the King approached, two workmen backlit by lanterns rolled a heavy lump of granite to the opening. Panting, they let their companions shift the stone to the nearest pile.

More workmen appeared in the opening, lugging a granite slab between them. Behind them came others carrying ragged chunks. They all needed rest. Bracing their hands on their knees, they heaved for breath, retching on dust. At once, several of the laborers outside entered the hole to continue the work.

The King heard another distant crack.

As the men went in, Elgart squeezed past them. He paused briefly, choking on dust like the workmen, then came to King Bifalt. “That woman, Majesty,” he gasped immediately. “Magister Astride.” He was grinning like a madman. “I think I am in love. If I had not known Magister Pillion, I would not have believed that a Decimate could be used so precisely.”

Gnawing on his cheek, the King waited.

“It would be easier,” continued Elgart, “to seal the tunnel. But she puts her hands on that granite. She shudders with concentration. And the stone cracks. It cracks, Majesty. When she steps back, rocks fall at her feet like homage.”

“But the way is not open?” demanded Bifalt. “We still have no escape?”

The former spy’s face twisted. “Apart from her Decimate, Majesty, she is an ordinary woman. Weariness weakens her control. She will be forced to stop before she causes a collapse.”

Behind King Bifalt, a shot echoed among the pillars. The first infantryman had arrived. The force of the slug spun him over the ledge. He pitched to the floor in a clang of iron.

Then half a dozen rifles barked. Metal rang, and rang again. An infantryman must have toppled down the stairs. His armor sang a song of broken limbs and blood.

Hells! To Elgart, Bifalt snapped, “We are out of time. Fetch out Astride. Drag her if you must. Then explain to the other Magisters. One of them must risk a true earthquake. We can only hold the entrance for a short time. Soon our foes will remember to think. They will bring shields to cover them.