And he knew what it meant. She had learned who and what she was, and had made her choice. Now she was a sorceress. Like Magister Avail’s, her voice could reach any mind at any distance, at the cost of total deafness for herself. Now there was no place for her anywhere, except in the library.

She had decided against her husband.

Stunned by the blow, he was gone before he fell on his face.

TWENTY

A GATHERING

Together, Jeck and Malder lifted their King from the scrub grass and freezing mud. Supported between them, he wobbled like an invalid or a drunkard, unable to stand, hardly able to see or hear. Estie’s voice filled his world. It echoed back at him from the ground and the stars, from the darkness of the trees, from the destruction of Belleger’s Fist.

Bifalt. Bifalt!

It was worse than sorcery. It was a choice. Estie had turned her back.

The Prince and Elgart reached him quickly. “Brother!” cried Jaspid. Elgart panted, “Majesty? Majesty?”

They could not know what Bifalt had lost.

Everything reeled. He was standing among the columns in the Fist’s basement, or on the hillside, or in the sky. Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus. Somewhere inside him, there were words. He had something to say. Something to do. The war had only begun. But his world was dim with distance, too far away to compel him. Estie’s shout had shattered him. Whatever Jaspid and Elgart needed to hear was lost in shock and loss.

Sharply, Jeck said, “Majesty!” He seemed to know his King better than Bifalt knew himself. Perhaps Malder knew him better as well. They had ridden into hell with him against Amikan cavalry and sorcerers. “The enemy is not a fool. He will have scouts. We must reach the trees before we are seen.”

Bifalt flinched. A whimper escaped between his teeth. He tried to call it back, but the effort was beyond him.

The enemy. The war. His people.

He needed words.

For the sake of his injured men, he found a few.

“Get everyone,” he panted. “Into the forest. Help the wounded. Make fires.”

The trees would shield fires from sight.

He could not say more. The truth shamed him. He was in too much pain to confess it.

Jeck glanced at Malder; at Jaspid and Elgart. At once, the Prince answered, “Elgart and I will protect him, Jeck.”

Jaspid’s skills were legendary. Elgart was well-known.

Jeck scowled. “As you say, Majesty.” Reluctantly, he let Prince Jaspid take the King’s arm. Malder allowed Elgart to replace him. The bodyguards strode away, calling commands to the riflemen and Magisters, to Boy and Spliner. Despite the lingering rumble of the Fist’s ruin, their voices sounded too loud.

At Bifalt’s ear, Jaspid whispered, “What hit you, Brother? All those stones. Are you hurt?”