Some time ago, sub-Commander Waysel had delivered the last of Amika’s promised cannon. After years of effort and blood, the fortifications had been completed. But the cost had been high. Two hundred laborers had given their last strength. Too many of them had died on the terraces. And the plight of the survivors was little better. Their eyes were glazed with cold. A number of them had lost fingers and toes to frostbite, ears and cheeks. Working with stone in the bay’s damp, bitter cold had left mangled hands, arms, legs. There were rotting sores and infections everywhere.

Since then, however, carts and wagons had carried them back to the Open Hand. Fresh workmen and servants had dismantled the bunkhouses, kitchens, and toolsheds from the fortifications; hauled boards, timbers, and stoves up the road. In the lee of a low hill near the cliff, the pieces of walls and ceilings had been reassembled to make housing for the cannoneers, riflemen, and Magisters who would fight the first battle against the invasion.

The gunners were all volunteers, but they were too few for the number of cannon. The riflemen were there to help them. An infirmary had been built, and physicians were already on their way. At present, however, the Magisters were still back in the Hand. King Bifalt and General Klamath had not yet decided which Decimates the bay’s defense would need—and how many sorcerers the defense of Belleger could afford to risk. Klamath hoped that when he returned to Belleger’s Fist, he would have clearer ideas to share with his King.

Matt’s reasons for visiting the bay were entirely his own. The First Captain wanted to see his eldest son, Mattwil. The time that they had spent together among the training-fields outside the Open Hand had ended painfully.

During the past summer and autumn, Mattwil had been at work as a stonemason on Queen Estie’s road. However, he had deserted his duty in order to warn Belleger that the road’s Amikan overseers were using and torturing Nuuri slaves. That crime had been the doing of King Smegin, Queen Estie’s father. The Queen had put a stop to it, but not before Mattwil had fled in the night. When he had delivered his report, he had worn his actions as if they covered him in Nuuri blood. He had not fought to defend them against Amikan cruelty: he had run away. Afterward, he had not known how to bear his shame. In his father’s presence, and Klamath’s, he had vowed that he would not fight in the coming war—and that he would never serve with Amikans again.