Before the King could say anything, Lome exclaimed, “Ah!” and wheeled to confront him. “Now I see it. There is the flaw. You are not so perfect, Brother. There had to be a flaw.

“No doubt, your plans to flush your subjects out of the city are clever. No doubt, you will fight fiercely to protect our flight. And no doubt, Amika will welcome us, at least for a time.

“But the bridges, Brother. The road to the library. If that is our best road, it will serve the enemy as well. It will take him straight to his target. After he has overrun the Hand, he will strike at the library without the inconvenience of crossing Belleger and the desert. And while he does so, we will be no more safe in Amika than we are here.”

“And you think I do not know the danger?” retorted King Bifalt. “I do. As does Queen Estie. She has made her own plans to counter it. Her guardsmen will be ready when you and our people cross into Amika. The enemy will not enter her realm while she has soldiers to defend it.”

Scowling, Prince Lome studied King Bifalt. Bifalt saw doubts and desires squirm across his brother’s features. He could almost name them. But he did not know where they would lead.

Then Lome let out a gusting sigh. “You astonish me, Bifalt. You almost make me believe what you ask is possible.”

A moment later, however, his expression closed like a door. He glowered at the roadbed instead of the King.

“But no,” he groaned. “I cannot do it.” A kind of agony twisted in his voice, a dread that wracked him. “Your people know me by repute. They have nourished their scorn for decades. They will not obey me. They will only laugh.

“Hells, Brother!” he cried. “You are a monster. I need a drink.”

Lome’s distress made Bifalt feel like a monster. He had not chosen Lome’s path in life—but he had also done nothing to redirect it. Still, he did not relent. That was his role here: here and everywhere. He did not relent.

He could not give his brother courage, or self-respect, or devotion to Belleger. But he could offer protection.

“Calm yourself, Brother,” he said hoarsely. “No one will laugh at you. I will ensure it. I will give you—” He looked around at his bodyguards. He could not do without Jeck. And Spliner and Boy were not veterans. They were not known as fighting men. “I will give you Malder.

“He will stand with you in his breastplate and helm. He will have his saber at his hip and his rifle on his shoulder. No one will laugh.”

The big bodyguard had that effect.

If King Bifalt’s unplanned announcement took Malder aback, he did not show it. His wits were as quick as Jeck’s. Without hesitation, he approached Prince Lome.