Perhaps later, he would ask how Bifalt knew what Queen Estie had done. For the present, he had no idea what to say. Elgart might have found something to offer the King. Klamath had nothing. Bifalt had shared his deepest pain. It had changed him. But where Estie was concerned, he was still himself. The only voice that he would hear was the voice of his grief.

In his own way, General Klamath did his duty. He called the King’s thoughts away from his wife. Swallowing the tightness in his throat, he asked, “Why did you climb that tor?” And climb it alone? “It was not to look for us. Suti al-Suri’s scouts must have told you that we are here.”

“I was commanded,” answered Bifalt hoarsely. “Magister Avail spoke in my mind. He told me to find high ground and face east. So that the Repository could see me, if you can believe it.”

Then he shrugged. “I heard him as the storm cleared. I did not find high ground until this morning.”

“And this troubles you, Majesty?” asked Klamath. “Did you wish to remain hidden from the Repository?”

From your wife?

Bifalt made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “I do not know why they care where I am.”

Now Klamath had to suppress a smile. That growl reassured him. It was more than familiar: it was characteristic. He spread his hands. “How could they not, Majesty? You are their only defender. You do not wish to be, but you are. They are merely sorcerers. What can they do? The Great God is a sorcerer as well, and he is ready for them. Whether we live or die, you are all that they have ever had.”

Why else had the library’s Magisters worked so hard to make Bifalt the King they needed him to be?

King Bifalt squinted against the sun for a moment. Without his accustomed rancor, he drawled, “No doubt, they would say that they exist to preserve knowledge, not to fight for it. I call that slippery reasoning.”

After a moment, he added, “You are a good friend, Klamath. You do not defend Queen Estie. She has enough defenders”—he tapped his chest—“here.”

Then he took the General’s arm again. Together, they resumed walking.

When the King had composed himself, he said, “Now our circumstances have changed. We must speak of what we will do.”

Klamath allowed himself a moment of relief. He felt that he and his King had passed a crisis. Now they could reassume roles that he understood, the roles that warfare demanded.

While Bifalt explained his orders, Klamath said nothing. The King’s intentions were extreme, but Klamath accepted them. What else did he expect? When the wagons arrived, his forces would be able to eat and rest. That was enough. He was only the General. Bifalt was Belleger’s King.