Taking his King by the arm, he drew Bifalt away from the others until he could speak without being overheard.

Sunrise was near. Through the greying darkness, Bifalt could see the General’s features clearly enough. Klamath had a peasant’s face. When he scowled, he looked like a farmer fighting to plow stony ground.

He was scowling now.

“Majesty,” he said close to King Bifalt’s ear, “this is not like you. You have learned to slump. This posture does not inspire confidence. Have you reconsidered the Queen-Consort’s message? Do you now fear an enemy in the north?”

Bifalt made an effort to straighten his shoulders. For a moment, he succeeded. But the change felt strangely unnatural. It made his neck and back ache. Somehow, without his notice, he had become a man who could not stand erect without strain. He let himself sag.

Irritated, he answered, “No. I have not. I do not. The killing of Magister Facile is grievous, but that loss is the library’s, not ours. We lost her when she left with the Queen. For us here, one random priest and two men whose only weapons are fangs do not comprise an army. We can do nothing until we know more.

“I have larger concerns than posture.” He snorted the word. “If you want me to improve it, give me a reason. Have you and Wheal devised a barricade for this crossing?”

Klamath knew his King too well. In his own way, he understood what Estie’s departure for the Repository had cost Bifalt. A pang twisted the General’s mouth. But it was not his place to probe the King’s heart.

Klamath allowed his own shoulders to drop. “The Royal Surveyor will speak of that when he comes, Majesty. While we wait, there are other matters to report.” With a nod, he indicated First Captain Matt and the riflemen. “I cannot say that they will lift your burdens, but you will want to hear them.”

An involuntary grimace tightened King Bifalt’s features. He forced it away. “Then I will hear them.”

Ruling himself severely, he went with Klamath to rejoin the other men.

First Captain Matt was a modest man, but not a daunted one. He was taller than his General, and built like a stone watchtower. When King Bifalt asked him to speak, he answered with unassuming directness.

His report came from the relays of riders and signals that he had put in place to deliver messages from Set Ungabwey’s men in the canyons of the Realm’s Edge. Considering the distance, the caravan-master could communicate with remarkable speed.

According to Master Ungabwey, his mechanicians and their massive catapults, aided by the judicious use of gunpowder, had blocked the first of the three known passages through the range. An entire mountainside had been dropped into the canyon. Set Ungabwey’s train was now moving to attack the second pass. He had encountered sporadic opposition from the foreigners who had been raiding across the south of Belleger, but his escort of riflemen had kept the wagons and men safe.