That was enough for Bifalt. He remembered the caravan-track, the bare iron-rutted road formed to ease the journey for the wagons that supplied the Repository, but he had only the vaguest memory of how he had survived after Set Ungabwey had abandoned him there. At the time, he had been half dead with thirst and hunger. The ride had felt long to him. Perhaps it would seem shorter now. All he cared about was gaining on the Great God.

Among the foothills at last, sheltered from sight by buttresses of raw stone and ancient spills of shale, the devotee of Spirit halted the army. A pale statue in the waning night, she sat her horse until the King joined her with his comrades. Speaking quietly, she announced, “We are now less than a league below the road. It passes southward above us before its last curve up to the Repository.

“We must be cautious now, King. It will be fatal if the enemy’s mounted force catches us crossing the road. Strung out as we are, we cannot defend ourselves.”

Privately, King Bifalt groaned. Every instinct in him cried out for haste. But those instincts had betrayed him against the horde. They had cost the el-Algreb too many horse-warriors. His damaged hand was badly swollen now, throbbing constantly, almost useless.

Defying himself, he asked Amandis, “What do you suggest?”

She was sure of her answer. “Suti al-Suri’s scouts can watch the road for us. We should walk now. When we are near enough to gauge the danger, we can decide whether to attempt a crossing.”

Hells! thought the King. But he did not object. Instead, he replied as if the word did not wring his heart, “Good.”

He did not need to consult Suti al-Suri. The chief warrior was already whistling to his relay of scouts.

Grinding his teeth, Bifalt told Jaspid to pass the word. “We walk now. If nothing else, the horses will be grateful.” Then he added, “Urge the men to eat and drink while they can. They will need their strength.”

Despite his own yearning to forge ahead, the Prince muttered, “As you say, Majesty.”

On his orders, the army dismounted. Dragging their reluctant mounts, they began to ascend on foot.

A stone’s throw below the road, they stopped.

From their position, they could not see the Repository or the high peaks of the Wall. Storm clouds piled over the mountains, casting their own gloom. But there was enough light to reveal the army’s surroundings, the rocks and dead brush, the shale and boulders, the occasional patches of scrub oak. Over his own harsh breathing and the panting of his people, Bifalt heard the clatter of hooves.

Lying flat on dirt and pebbles below the road’s edge, he watched Rile’s cavalry sweep past, charging like thunder.