There were so many bodies, infantrymen and riflemen. Their struggles had turned the snow and earth into a red muck that made the dead indistinguishable. Bifalt could be anywhere down there. Even if he still lived, still fought, he might be impossible to locate. The confusion of men and Decimates masked the conflict from edge to edge. It concealed everyone.

Nevertheless Estie tried, staring until her sore eyes felt like coals in their sockets. Crayn kept his hand on her shoulder to steady her, but his touch did not require her attention.

She had expected another blare of brilliance from the doomed priests in the pavilion, yet it took her by surprise when it came. It distorted her vision, made her head reel. The concussion that followed shook the rock under her feet. It staggered the boulders of her covert, shifted them on their foundations. One and then another of them rolled away, leaving her exposed.

She did not care. Rile’s attention was focused on the keep, avid to see what his attack had accomplished. Two more of his priests were gone. Their books burned briefly, then faded to smoke and ash. He had five left—but only five. She had no idea what they did. Perhaps they would not be enough.

Too slowly, she recovered her sight. The absence of the boulders gave her a wider view of the battlefield. She could see more, search harder.

She caught her breath when she saw Magisters forming a cordon below the lower plateau and the pavilion. With the ragged remnants of their stamina, they held back the infantrymen, driving the enemy downhill, while Klamath’s men scrambled to reach the shelter of the Decimates.

She could not guess how many of the General’s people had survived. Among the Magisters were two men she knew.

Klamath and Elgart.

Sudden tears blurred her eyes. Both men looked hurt. But they were too far away. She could not identify their wounds. Blinking furiously, she finally saw that they were kneeling, one on either side of a man prone in the muck. They plucked at him, tugged on his arms, tried to lift him.

He did not move.

Holding her breath while her pulse pounded in her throat, Estie watched.

Klamath’s and Elgart’s insistence seemed to imply that the fallen soldier was still alive. They were trying to rouse him.

For no apparent reason, Crayn jerked Estie’s shoulder. She glanced aside just as a bullet skidded off the Shields of the priests.

The Commander gestured urgently:

—The Prince, Majesty! He shoots at Rile. This must be your moment. Now, while the priests are distracted!

Her moment? Gods! The moment that Lylin had promised her.

Now?

Panic and doubt threatened to overwhelm her. She fought them down so that she could concentrate.