Opposite the King, a lower range of treeless hills left more than enough space for Rile’s army to march past, but the supply-train would not be able to escape on that side. The slopes were too rugged for wagons.

On the track, more wagons than Bifalt had ever seen lumbered along, drawn by oxen and dray-horses. To the west, it stretched out of sight in the early daylight, coming as if it had no end. To the east, the line wandered away among the hills.

Wherever they could find room, a host of men crowded the trail. Unarmed but warmly dressed, they had to be the army’s servants or slaves, men who would do the hard work of caring for the army. If the First Captain’s estimate was accurate—thirteen thousand soldiers—Rile would need a multitude of serving-men.

Among them, infantrymen guarded the wagons. According to Suti al-Suri’s scouts, perhaps half of Rile’s light infantry had dropped back to protect the supply-train while the cavalry raced ahead, presumably to secure Queen Estie’s road. Those soldiers looked alert despite their long trek. But to protect a train of that length, they were spread thin. They did not pose a serious threat in any one place.

To Bifalt’s way of thinking, Rile had made several mistakes. First, he had not sent his cavalry toward the Queen’s road sooner. Instead, he had allowed his heavy infantry to waste time among the snares of the Open Hand. Then he had not prevented those soldiers from entering Belleger’s Fist. By such misjudgments, he had lost hundreds of men. He had let the last Bellegerins escape the city. And he had given Queen Estie’s Commanders their opportunity to destroy the bridges. Now he was trapped in Belleger.

He was probably furious. If he had learned the lesson of his mistakes, Rile would have provided better protection for his supply-train. His recklessness now showed that he did not count his losses. Instead, he had turned his rage elsewhere.

Toward General Klamath’s army.

He either did not know or did not care that he would have to fight his war without the aid of the Cleckin.

As King Bifalt studied the train, however, he saw that his enemy was not as heedless as he had hoped. Among the servants and infantrymen were Rile’s black priests, priests mounted on the tusked beasts of the cavalry and holding tall staffs that looked like iron. Beyond question, they wielded sorcery. Each staff was crowned by a shining globe of such brightness that it stung Bifalt’s eyes.

The sight of their power filled his mind with curses.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, he said nothing until Elgart murmured, “Those priests will harm us. What do you think, Majesty? Our guns can reach them, but the range will hinder accuracy.”