Matt would have given his heart’s blood to cleanse his son’s spirit; but Mattwil had refused his love. For that reason, and because he hoped that some good would come of it, General Klamath had sent the young man to Captain Flisk in the bay. The gun emplacements had a seemingly endless need for skilled stonemasons. And Heren Flisk was a kind man who understood shame. Klamath had trusted the Captain to provide the mixture of attention, neglect, and exhausting work that Mattwil needed. And he had hoped that the example set by Commander Forguile and the Amikan workmen would ease Mattwil’s bitterness.

More than once since that day, Klamath had offered to recall Mattwil if Matt wished it; but Matt had declined. When the two old friends were alone, Matt had not troubled to hide his pain. “My son is a good man,” he told Klamath. “Whatever he does, he has good reasons—although,” admitted the First Captain ruefully, “he may not know what they are. He will find his way back to his family when he can.”

Riding together toward the bay, the General set his own concerns aside at intervals to consider Matt’s—and Mattwil’s. But he said nothing. He had nothing new to add. Looking back, he wondered if he had been wrong to send the young man away at a time when Mattwil and his father needed each other. That was characteristic of him. He made decisions because he was King Bifalt’s General and decisions were expected of him. Later, he doubted himself. Now he expected to learn whether his doubts were justified after Matt had spoken with his son.

He would not have been surprised to hear that Mattwil regarded him as the kind of man who sacrificed his own wounded after a battle.

Approaching the camp, the track curved around the dense woodland that rimmed the cliffs northward from the steep road down to the strand and the sea. Here General Klamath felt the fringes of the tormented winds battering themselves against the precipices and the wracked waves, whipping spray upward. Among the bare, black trees, a scout waved an acknowledgment to the General’s company, then hurried away to forewarn Commander Forguile and Captain Flisk of Klamath’s coming.

As the General passed the edge of the woods, he caught sight of the encampment. Interspersed with kitchens, the low bunkhouses formed a line away from the cliffs and the worst of the winds. Most of the bunkhouses were probably empty now. They would be filled as King Bifalt’s Magisters and more riflemen came to join the gunners.

Ennis Forguile and Heren Flisk stood outside the nearest kitchen, waiting to greet the King’s General. Behind them, a small crowd of riflemen, cannoneers, and servants gathered.