Skurn straightened his back, collected his breath. He appeared to remember that he had once been the Archpriest’s right hand. After a moment, he countered as if he could not be cowed, “Truth?”

The General snorted. “Of course, truth. Nothing less will satisfy me.”

He meant, I do not believe in gods. Or priests.

He also meant, You may not realize how easily your accidental death can be arranged.

In gouts of vapor, Father Skurn replied, “I want to see the ships that threaten you. And I hope to prove my honesty by serving where I can.”

That was not the answer Klamath expected. “Why?” he demanded. “As I recall, you preach that there is no enemy. There will be no war. King Bifalt has been misled by the library’s Magisters. The only war is the one in every heart that does not put its faith in your ‘Great God.’ ”

“It seems,” rasped the priest, “I was mistaken.” In a rush, he added, “Not about the war in every heart. That is truth. But about the library’s Magisters. It seems they do have an enemy.

“Whoever he is, he does not serve the Great God Rile. Our God desires only peace. I want to see this enemy for myself. I want proof that he exists. I cannot understand why the Great God has not already overcome him. In his name, I will support your forces.”

The General felt like spitting. He did not believe that the Great God desired only peace. But he saw no benefit in calling Skurn a liar. The priest would not be here now if he could be intimidated by anything less than a knife at his throat. His words were vapor, nothing more. His actions would reveal the truth. With a shrug, Klamath let the man join the boys.

Now the company of volunteers and the two commanders traveled together. At a steady canter, their trip would take less than half a day. While the boys chattered together, hardly able to contain their excitement, Klamath and Matt rode in silence. They each had their own reasons for visiting the Bay of Lights.

At first, Klamath had been reluctant to go. His duty called him to the bay, to the circumstances there and the final preparations for battle; but he fretted about his King. He did not like what he had seen of Bifalt’s sagging shoulders, Bifalt’s air of doubt. Belleger needed King Bifalt, not this slumped man who looked ready to stoop in defeat. But when Matt had requested leave to see the bay for himself, General Klamath had shaken off his reluctance. He knew why Matt wanted to go. And he had his own decisions to make.