Earlier, he had learned that the el-Algreb had beaten the Cleckin: an unexpected relief. But then he had received word that Suti al-Suri had refused to join him. Under other circumstances, Klamath would have been furious. However, a second signal from sub-Commander Hellick had reported that the horse-warriors had returned toward the Open Hand to search for King Bifalt. After that, the General had put the el-Algreb out of his mind. They had gone beyond his reach. He was left hoping that they would find the King alive.

Now Klamath had riflemen scouting everywhere, some of them hidden along the line of the enemy’s march from the Bay of Lights, others dangerously close to the city and Rile’s forces. They contacted him whenever they could. During the night, one of them had reached him. The man had described the almost unimaginable death of the tall stone keep where Belleger’s kings had ruled for generations. He had delivered those tidings with horror.

Before dawn, other reports spoke of the fierce rush of the Great God’s cavalry pounding north along the Queen’s road. A thousand men? More? Rile must have sent them to secure the river crossing at Fivebridge.

Klamath wished them joy in the attempt. If Amika’s defenders had obeyed their Queen, the cavalrymen would find the bridge broken, cast into the turbulence of the River. Their frustration would be answered with rifle-fire and grenades.

Yet Rile still had his infantry. The rest of the cavalry. Those feral skirmishers. And innumerable sorcerers clad like priests. Losing the men who had died in Belleger’s Fist might infuriate the Great God. Their sacrifice would not hamper him.

Klamath’s First Captain watched with him. Hegels needed his chance to see how the enemy repaid opposition. Captain Rowt was there as well. He had earned his place by bringing his riflemen and sorcerers out of the city safely. In addition, the General had ordered five Magisters to join him, one to represent each of the Decimates among his forces. They sat their mounts with dismay in their eyes like reflections of flames.

The rest of the army was a league farther east on lower ground, and still moving.

Klamath trusted certain of his Magisters. Trench and Brighten had proven themselves with wind and lightning. Crawl’s leadership at the barricades of fire deserved respect. And Magister Solace had earned the General’s regard by keeping his friend Matt alive.

But he worried about Magister Whimper, the drought-wielder. Despite her haughty manner, she was a fearful woman, easily intimidated. She might have refused his commands if she had dared. Nevertheless he had a particular need for her Decimate.