From the mass of trapped people, Elgart emerged. As he approached, he shouted, “Magister Astride is here!” He pointed at a gasping woman propped against the wall, the only Magister coated in dust and sweat. “I had a hell’s own difficulty getting her out, but you told me not to risk her.”

The King shouted as well. He was not sure that he would ever hear clearly again. “Who went in?”

“They are Magisters, Majesty.” Elgart gave him the benefit of a grin. “First, they had to discuss. Then they all volunteered. But one—” He paused to grimace. “Magister Bone. Not old, but in poor health. Coughing up his lungs. He said he could not survive the rigors of whatever comes next. He went.”

Bifalt had time to think, If he is not too weak—

Then a third detonation shook the vaults. Thunder followed it as stones from the ceiling hammered down. That tumult covered the screams—if any of Rile’s men were screaming. It sounded like ruin. The Magisters flinched or cowered. The laborers crouched like men who did not know which way to run. As if in unison, all of the riflemen staggered.

Grinding his teeth, the King told Elgart, “It must be now. We have no time.”

From top to bottom, the nearby pillars spat stones and mortar. They would not stand much longer.

“Bone knows that, Majesty.” Elgart’s tone held a moment of sadness. “He will do what he can.”

As the last few riflemen arrived, Prince Jaspid assembled them among their comrades. He knew the danger as well as Bifalt did. When the ceiling collapsed, it would bring all of Belleger’s Fist down with it.

Bifalt ached for the next explosion. He wanted the Fist’s destruction to take hundreds of Rile’s men with it. He hoped for a thousand. But if the keep fell too soon—

Or if Magister Bone did not reach open air—

“A fuse has failed!” shouted the Prince. “The next blast is late!”

Abruptly, the floor jumped. It cracked like crazed glass. Breaks raced through the wall on both sides of the tunnel. The whole wall seemed to bow outward. Distance muffled the shrill cry of shattering granite. A sudden gale of dust and dirt spewed from the hole.

The Decimate of earthquake.

King Bifalt swallowed a mouthful of blood. That concussion might open the way—or it might block the tunnel completely.

He started to yell Elgart’s name, but the former spy had already disappeared into the tunnel.

More gunpowder exploded. The blast shook the foundations from wall to wall. Its force blew out most of the torches. An accelerating avalanche of stones cut off the last of the light. Thick gloom and dust-clogged air swept outward. Bifalt could barely see. The only illumination came from the lanterns in the tunnel. Everywhere he looked, his people seemed to dissolve and become powder.