For a moment, the three men stood in silence, gazing out over the benighted west. In the distance, the glow of sorcerous globes marked the enemy’s location. By their sheer numbers, they made a stark black horizon of the foothills. But they were moving. Apparently, the priests had begun their ascent some time ago.

Their shining held a hint of gold, a vague tinge that marred or enhanced the power of the priests. Klamath thought that he knew what it was.

Too tense to watch for long, he turned to Waysel.

“We were told to hold fire, sir, until we hear a signal. I assume that your cannon will give it. What are your orders?”

Waysel seemed flustered. “We were told, General— That is, sir—” With an effort, he steadied himself. “Magister Rummage commands the defense here. He instructed us to hold fire until hundreds of cavalrymen have passed below us.

“He did not explain himself. Perhaps we will understand when the enemy comes.”

General Klamath nodded. “Thank you, sir. We expect Rile’s infantry to come straight uphill. But they will arrive after the cavalry. For the present, obey Magister Rummage. My riflemen and I will do the same.

“If you see Queen Estie, give her my thanks.”

Without another word, he turned away, taking Hellick with him.

When they were gone, sub-Commander Waysel spent a little while chewing over his uncertainties. Then he sent one of his guardsmen to the Repository to summon the rest of his men and Commander Crayn’s. He needed them to prepare and work the guns.

Fearing the priests, he prayed that either his Queen or the librarian would not neglect to give him Magisters of fire.

An hour before dawn, Queen Estie and Commander Crayn reached her post.

Crayn had brought his weapons. In addition, he carried a large pack of provisions and bedding. Estie hoped that she would have opportunities for rest and relief, but she suspected that she might need to eat and sleep in the passage.

Leaving his pack in the hall and the heavy door open, Crayn followed her out into the open shelter of her covert.

The air felt frigid, poised for disastrous changes. It stung Estie’s cheeks, made her vision blur. Moments passed before she could pick out a few stars directly overhead. They seemed lonely against the fading black of the sky.

With signs and gestures, Crayn said:

—I fear a storm, Majesty.

She winced. What could the defenders do then? Bad weather might not hamper the priests. Even if it did, their Shields would protect them from rifle-fire. And if it did not, they could batter the hillsides with globes until all the riflemen were dead.

From the gap between boulders on her right, she watched Waysel’s command preparing the cannon. He had enough guardsmen, all of his and most of Crayn’s. They would be ready to fire soon.