“Without mounts, what could the raiders do?” Hellick sighed, enjoying the memory. “They fled south, back toward the Realm’s Edge. They cannot threaten you now.”

Prince Jaspid said nothing. His jaw worked, chewing expletives, but he kept them to himself.

Elgart was less reticent. “Amazing,” he declared. “Amandis assured me that the el-Algreb are worthy allies. I believed her, of course. But I did not know how much to believe her.”

King Bifalt braced himself on Elgart’s shoulder. This gift was too great. He could hardly trust it. Needing reassurance, he asked harshly, “Is this true, sub-Commander?”

Hellick almost smiled. “It is my life as well as yours, Majesty. Amika’s life as well as Belleger’s. If my tidings were false, I would not be here to deliver them.”

The smoke was getting thicker. It stung Bifalt’s eyes. Leaning harder on Elgart, he rubbed his face with his free hand. Then a brief gust cleared the air. When he had mastered himself, he said, “Forgive me, Hellick.” He stood a little straighter. “I do not question your honesty. But I did not expect this outcome. I would have been content if the el-Algreb had delayed the raiders. I did not dream of victory. Now I must think—”

When King Bifalt fell silent, Jaspid asked the obvious question. “Where are the horse-warriors now, sub-Commander?”

In an instant, Hellick’s irritation returned. It resembled disgust. “That is a different tale, Highness. I have remained in contact with General Klamath by signal. When he learned that the Cleckin had fled, he ordered the el-Algreb to join him in the east. Suti al-Suri refused.”

The Amikan turned to King Bifalt. “You know how he speaks, Majesty. I often struggle to understand him. But he seemed to say that his alliance is with you, not with the General.” Embarrassed, Hellick added, “With his brother, not his sister.

“He intended to return to the Open Hand. He seemed to believe that you still live.”

“And?” prompted Jaspid.

“His scouts found this clearing.” Hellick’s ire was fading, pushed aside by involuntary admiration. “You would not have seen them, Highness. They are better at stealth than any men I know. Suti al-Suri sent them to sweep this forest for threats. He may join you soon.

“The el-Algreb fear nothing except the Great God’s skirmishers. Those men are swift, agile, and far too many. If they came upon you here, they might leave none of you alive.”

Bifalt shook his head. He was chasing too many thoughts at once. Possibilities sprang on him suddenly or evaded him like rabbits. The skirmishers, he muttered to himself, trying to fix his attention on one subject. Of course. They would be a fatal foe among the trees. And among the horses. Despite their guns, Klamath’s men would not fare much better.

That, thought the King, will be work for Magisters. Nothing less would suffice against the small, agile men.