Bifalt accepted this. “Then speak of my brother.” Jaspid had rushed away from Bifalt in battle, a choice so uncharacteristic that it suggested madness. I am sorry, Brother. “Is he well?”

“He is, Majesty,” answered Klamath gruffly. “A little bruised, no more. He looked in on you earlier, but you were asleep. Now he trains with that devotee, Lylin.”

Elgart chuckled. “He calls it training. I call it courtship. I would fear for him, but she appears to be as smitten as he is.” The scarred man laughed outright. “They are a perfect match, Majesty. Imagine them sharing a home filled with wrecked furniture, broken crockery, and passion.”

Scowling, Klamath persisted in his report. “Much happened while we were fighting for our lives, and yours. Now we hear that this Lylin claimed Prince Jaspid for his marksmanship. She guided him to the porch of the Repository. When his chance came, he shot out the gems of Rile’s staff and destroyed Rile’s books.

“Those books were the final Decimate. We have seen the damage they did to this keep. It is severe. The Prince prevented them from achieving worse.”

For a moment, Bifalt’s attention wandered. The servants, he thought. Their bundles. Rile’s books.

Estie had urged him to stop them. He had failed. Amandis had given herself in the attempt, but she was only one devotee. He had done nothing except enable her sacrifice. The memory of her death was a pang that he did not know how to ease.

But Klamath was not done. More harshly, he continued, “Yet even that would not have been possible without Queen Estie. First she called Jaspid away from the battle. Then she struck at Rile with sorcery. She hurt him, Majesty. That moment of distraction enabled what followed.”

Speaking of Estie brought Bifalt’s attention back. Carefully, as if to ward off a fresh injury, he asked, “Rile is dead?”

“Killed by your blow, Majesty,” declared Elgart. “His power gushed out of him like blood. He fell and died.”

Klamath confirmed it. “His fire left the imprint of his body in the stone. Nothing else remains.”

King Bifalt expected to feel relief, if not vindication. Perhaps he did. But the death of his enemy raised a more important question.

“Then tell me, General,” he commanded with as much severity as he could manage. “What are our losses? How many lives did this battle cost us?”

That touched on the source of Klamath’s bitterness. Frowning fiercely, he answered, “Seven hundred, including First Captain Hegels. That is our best count. It may be higher, if the healers cannot save some of our injured. If they lose sub-Commander Hellick. I do not think it can be less.”

While Bifalt groaned, Klamath rasped, “But almost four hundred of those were horse-warriors.” He clenched his fist to keep himself from shouting. “Majesty, I must speak of this. Of all of us, only the el-Algreb fought without Magisters.