There was a rise on that side of the plain. He had not noticed it the previous day. It sat alone on the horizon, more like a tor than a hill, the ancient remains of a volcano. Boulders knuckled its sides. Its crown stood high above the plain. The sun had already touched there, lifting the crest out of the surrounding gloom.

As solitary as the tor, a man stood there. Instead of looking down at the wreckage of Klamath’s army, he faced the east. Sunlight shone on his bronze breastplate.

A rifleman, then. Alone? And unaware of the General’s people?

No. After a moment, the man turned. With one arm, he waved a greeting. Then he disappeared down the far side of the tor.

Beckoning to the First Captain, Klamath asked, “Did you see that man? Did you recognize him?”

“The distance, sir.” The Amikan was reluctant to commit himself. He took a breath. “He looked like King Bifalt.”

To his surprise, Klamath found himself sitting in the snow. The King? Tears made ice on his sore cheeks. He felt unable to hold up his head. The King?

He hardly heard himself ask, “Can any of the men ride, Hegels?” Were any of the horses strong enough? “I want to be sure. There must be men behind that rise.”

King Bifalt had not come alone. That was impossible.

Gruffly, Hegels answered, “There is no need. Look.”

Klamath braced his hands in the snow to straighten his back. With an effort, he forced up his head.

Through the sting in his eyes, he saw riders canter past the slope of the tor. Soon, they were touched by the sun, and he could count them. The light defined them against the white background. The legs of their mounts kicked up plumes of snow. They were seven.

One was King Bifalt. He had Prince Jaspid with him. Elgart. Jeck and Malder. Sub-Commander Hellick.

And Suti al-Suri.

Waving, the chief warrior shouted proudly, “Sister! El-Algreb bring bounty!”

Moments later, the King and his companions slowed their mounts. In a rush, Bifalt vaulted out of his saddle, hurried toward his old friend. Then he stopped, waiting for the General to rise. The other men waited on their horses.

Klamath did not feel able to climb as far as his feet. He could not prevent his eyes from bleeding tears.

Peering up at his King, he asked, as petulant as a child, “What took you so long?” Then he was ashamed of himself. Groaning, “Majesty,” he held out his hand, mutely asking for the First Captain’s help.

As if the General weighed nothing, Hegels lifted him. At once, Klamath staggered toward King Bifalt and hugged him.

Bifalt had become a different man. Instead of refusing Klamath’s embrace, or tolerating it, he flung his arms around Klamath and held him fiercely.

Klamath clung, trying to make the moment last.