“I have reconsidered. The enemy has no reason to suppose that we still live.” Jaspid began calmly, but his ire mounted as he continued. “And he has lost hundreds of men. He must be furious. Common caution will not relieve him. He will burn to strike somewhere, and strike hard.

“He will send his cavalry through the Hand to the Queen’s road. If he can, he will enter Amika and exact retribution.”

An obvious danger, thought Elgart. Under any circumstances, the Great God would aim to take advantage of that road. But the Prince had more to say. Elgart did not interrupt him.

Jaspid leaned closer, dangerously near the flames. Without preamble or forewarning, he demanded, “Bifalt said it was Estie. In his mind. But that is nonsense, sir. Destroying the Fist must have broken him. Tell me if I am wrong.”

Elgart sighed. He was ready for this, but he did not like it. He did not have the right to betray any friend’s secrets.

He also did not like Jaspid’s tone. “You have not forgotten, Highness,” he said mildly, “that my name is Elgart.”

“I do not care if your name is the Great God,” retorted the Prince. “I want an answer.”

Elgart’s face twisted, a grin on one side, a scowl on the other. “Briefly, then, Highness. The Queen-Consort has chosen sorcery. Her power is like Magister Avail’s. Her mind can speak to any other mind. Distance is no obstacle.”

Jaspid jerked back as if Elgart had swung a saber at him. He clutched at the first word he understood. “Chosen—? No one chooses sorcery. It is inborn, or it is not.”

“Yes,” countered Elgart, “it is a gift of birth. But it is nothing until it is awakened. That is the choice. Until we emerged from the Fist, King Bifalt did not know what she might become.”

Watching Jaspid’s dismay struggle across his mien, Elgart took pity on him. “Clearly, the Queen-Consort has reached the Last Repository.” He insisted on her Bellegerin title, her bond with her husband. “She seeks aid for us, yes, but she has another reason as well. Some time ago, Magister Facile informed her that she has inherited a gift. While it slept, she was not aware of it. Magister Facile did not name it for her. She could not choose whether to awaken it or leave it sleeping.

“Now she has revealed her choice.”

Nothing else could cause Bifalt so much pain.

Another man might have accepted that explanation and moved on. Jaspid’s distress was more personal.

“Why did not Bifalt tell me?”

For that also, Elgart was prepared. To ease Jaspid’s way, he replied as if he doubted himself. “Shame?”

“Shame?” The Prince winced. “What cause does my brother have to feel shame?”