But then came a day when the deaf man said nothing. After a few hours, his silence eroded her concentration. The gestures of A Complete System began to seem like empty hand-waving. Defeated, she dismissed her guardsmen. Pacing around her sitting room, she tried for patience while she waited for Magister Avail to speak.

She did not hear his voice until late that afternoon. When he spoke, he sounded too shaken to provide details.

I am sorry, Queen. King Bifalt has been routed.

Queen Estie did not hesitate. She took Commander Crayn and left her quarters, hurrying to find someone, anyone, who would tell her more.

When Suti al-Suri’s scouts reported that the horde was half a day away, King Bifalt called a halt.

His small army could have ridden farther. He had not been pushing the pace, and their wagon carried plenty of food and fodder. But sunset was coming, and the King needed time to talk and plan. Captain Flisk and Commander Forguile had described those fanged strangers. They were formidable despite their lack of weapons. Indiscriminate gunfire would not kill them. Hells, it might not slow them. Worse, they were supported by priests with shining globes. Any rash assault would fail.

The riflemen and the el-Algreb started campfires for food and warmth. In the waning daylight, Bifalt called his advisers together. Sitting in a ring around one of the fires, they discussed their intentions.

Suti al-Suri spoke for the horse-warriors. Prince Jaspid and Elgart were there, as were the King’s bodyguards. Sub-Commander Hellick was not. King Bifalt had released him to General Klamath along with the Magisters of earthquake. The King’s path took him across a region of open plains like the steppes of the Nuuri, a rumpled stretch of land that appeared almost flat. Earthquakes would be of more use among the sands of the desert. To replace Astride and the others, Bifalt had claimed Magisters Brighten and Crawl. They sat waiting with his counselors.

King Bifalt’s first question was for the chief warrior. “What do your scouts say?”

Suti al-Suri studied the fire, avoiding the King’s gaze. He seemed chastened—or perhaps daunted.

“Bad foes, Brother,” he muttered. “Bad for horses. Fast like skirmishers, but big. Long fangs.” His hands clutched reflexively at his bandolier of daggers. “Kill horses easy as men. More easy.”

Bifalt nodded. “Then we will have to fight at a distance.”

He imagined streams of horse-warriors riding along the edges of the horde, doing as much damage as possible and wheeling away before the enemy responded. The Magisters could punish any counterattack.

The chief warrior flicked a glance at King Bifalt, lowered his eyes again. “How fight distant? Rifles not good.” He may have meant that his warriors lacked accuracy with their guns. “Need hills.”

“We have none,” remarked Prince Jaspid. “And no cover.” His tone was carefully neutral. “The terrain will not help us.”