She spoke aloud. He used gestures and hand-signs. His grasp on Karsolsky’s System was incomplete, but he was becoming fluent.

She began by giving him her version of King Bifalt’s reasons for charging the horde. “Yes,” she admitted uncomfortably, “he hates sorcery and sorcerers. But that does not make him insane. It did not drive him to charge. He saw a danger that we have not considered.”

She held Crayn’s sandstone gaze. “Help me understand him, Commander. What did he see in priests with exploding globes and Shields? What could be worth his life?”

Crayn took a long moment to consider the question. He drew a deep breath, let it out. Frowning, he suggested carefully:

—You know the King, Majesty. I do not doubt what you say of him. My first thought is this. If the Farsighted are not mistaken in what they saw, then—

He hesitated, unsure of himself—or disturbed by his own reasoning.

“Then?” prompted Estie.

—Then the Magisters here have mistaken their defenses. They are more exposed than they imagine.

This was what Queen Estie wanted from him. “How so?”

—They believe that the desert is their realm. They expect the sands to protect them. But have they considered how the power of Shields might be used among the dunes?

—Sand is only sand, Majesty. Together, Rile’s Shields may be able to thrust even the highest dunes aside. They may be able to force a path through the desert.

The Queen flinched, but she did not interrupt him.

He spread his hands.

—Then ask yourself this, Majesty. What does Rile gain? An easy passage through the desert, yes. But then what? His cavalry and infantry and the horde together cannot breach the Repository’s walls. Can the sorcery of Shields? I do not think so. This stone is iron, not sand. And it is thick. His priests can raise as many Shields and fling as many globes as they wish. They will accomplish nothing. And while they attack, the Magisters here will rain slaughter with their Decimates.

—If the priests are the true threat, Majesty, their Great God has wasted a long journey.

Scrambling to keep up, Estie thought, Then the true threat must be— Before Crayn could say more, she panted, “A moment. Give me a moment.”

Then she caught up with herself.

“If the priests are not the true threat, Rile must have brought them to protect something else.”

Rile himself might be the true threat. Or he might possess some other secret, a form of sorcery about which she, and perhaps the Repository, knew nothing.

At once, she jumped to her feet. “Come, Commander. We must speak with Magister Rummage again. He may need to reconsider the Repository’s defense.”

Crayn surged upright. “As you say, Majesty.” She was in a hurry, but he was fast enough to reach the door ahead of her, open it for her. Together, they left the sitting room.