“You can.” The Captain’s voice shook. He used its tremors as if they were anger. “We will begin with the long guns. They are sixteen. You Magisters of lightning are eight. Riflemen will escort you down to the terraces. They will ensure that you come to no harm. Each of you will protect two cannon.”

At once, Magister Lambent yelped, “We cannot! I cannot! We will be exposed!” As if his protest were irrefutable, he cried, “I cannot see!”

Heren Flisk did not turn. He had no strength to waste on Lambent’s fears. Lives were at stake.

“We are all exposed,” he snapped. “You will not be the first. The gunners have gone to their posts. They are doomed without you. If you die, you will not be the last.”

With a snarl, Magister Trench added, “You do not have to see, you fool. You have to feel. And stop being such a coward.”

Flisk had suffered Lambent’s arrogance for years. He allowed himself to sneer. “For a Magister with your reputation, Lambent, the task will be simple enough. You will not attack. You will defend. You can sense sorcery as it rises. When it comes, you will dismiss it. I have been assured that any Magister can do as much against his own Decimate.

“While you shield the cannon, they will keep firing. They will hold the enemy back—if you do not fail.

“General Klamath will return with more Magisters. Until then, Belleger is in your hands.”

Lambent tried again. “No! I will n—”

Abruptly, he gasped in pain. Captain Flisk glanced behind him in time to see the appalled Magister drop to his knees clutching his lower back.

Magister Brighten stepped away from Lambent. Grinning fiercely, she showed Flisk her braced thumb. She must have jabbed one of Lambent’s kidneys. “I have wanted to do that for a long time,” she said with satisfaction. “Your men will have to haul him into place, Captain. But once he is there, he will shield the cannon to save himself.”

“What of us, Captain?” put in Magister Trench. “Do you have a use for the Decimate of wind?”

Flisk turned back to the stove. More cautiously, he replied, “I do, Magister. It is uncertain. You may find yourselves exposed for nothing. Or you may be crucial.

“I saw you exert your Decimate to extend the reach of your senses. Perhaps you can do the same for our lightning-wielders.” To himself, Flisk cursed the loss of Shallow, Scurry, and Gust. “Our soldiers will guide two of you to each terrace.” One sorcerer of wind for every four cannon. Flisk did not think they would be enough. “Do whatever you can there.”

He was not conscious of listening for the first sounds of battle. He was too tired, too cold. But he was not surprised when he heard the start of a cannonade.