“Blame the work, Matt. He has done more than he knows how to endure. It numbs him. But now it is done. He will remember your love when he regains his strength. And he will be safe while he recovers. No one will ask him to join the fighting. If he has lost his way, he will find it again.”

The shape of the hills dimmed the afternoon light. A premature twilight spread around the riders. It seemed to reach far into a dark future.

As if he were confessing himself, Matt said to the gloom, “I fear that priest.” He had become more and less than the man Klamath knew, harder and more bitter. “Do you remember, Klamath? Mattwil heard the same priest preach, or another like him. The Church—” The spurned father choked for a moment. “The Church gave my son another reason to accuse himself. He believed its teachings. They offered him their version of forgiveness, but even that he could not accept. If he accepts it now, he will be truly lost.”

To that, Klamath had no answer. Instead of wasting words that would give no comfort, he nudged his horse closer to Matt’s. With one hand, he reached out to grip Matt’s shoulder for a moment. He had no other language for his share of his old friend’s sorrow.

During the rest of their ride back to the Open Hand, they did not speak again.

FOUR

NEW USES FOR SORCERY

When General Klamath returned to the Bay of Lights several days later, he had a specific purpose. He was leading a company of untried Magisters. He and King Bifalt wanted to know whether their Decimates could serve the defense. If they could, the sorcerers would need to understand what was expected of them.

Before dawn in the bailey of Belleger’s Fist, the General gathered the Magisters he had summoned. A heavy sky laden with winter had been dropping masses of snow for the past two days. More snow was falling now, and an aching cold covered the Open Hand. Along Belleger’s coastal cliffs, the weather would be worse. Accordingly, all of the Decimate-wielders were so thickly bundled that they resembled sheep ready for shearing. In their wool and padding, several of them were too encumbered to mount their horses without help.

General Klamath had decided on eighteen of Belleger’s and Amika’s theurgists. Of them, three wielded the Decimate of drought. Klamath did not expect to use them in the bay. Their power could not reach the enemy. But he had a more immediate task for them. Snow was nothing more than frozen rain; and he had been told that every Decimate could counteract its own form of power. He wanted to see how drought fared in weather like this.