“I can promise an estate in Mystarria, if King Sylvarresta cannot do better.”

“I’ll take it,” Shostag grunted, waved his men in.

Two hours before dawn, Orden still had seen no sign of Gaborn or Borenson, had heard no word. Another messenger brought news that the Duke of Groverman would offer more aid from neighboring castles, but couldn’t reach Longmot before dusk.

Of course, Raj Ahten will get here first, Orden realized.

Groverman did right by maintaining his own hold until he was sure it could be defended, regardless of the promise of treasure.

So it seemed that no more aid would come. Though his scouts had not yet warned him of Raj Ahten’s approach, Orden expected it within an hour or two.

The very fact that he hadn’t yet received word of Gaborn worried King Orden. Hour by hour, his hopes for his son’s well-being dwindled, until he felt it vain to hope. Surely Raj Ahten had captured him.

And the Wolf Lord would have either killed him or taken the boy’s endowments.

So Orden took his forcibles, lined up his volunteers, and let the facilitator for the Earl of Dreis sing the ancient spells that made the forcibles glow, creating ribbons of light as man after man gave up metabolism.

Last of all, Orden gave his own endowment, completing the serpent ring. It was a desperate act.

With a heavy heart and fewer than six thousand men, Orden closed his gates at dawn and waited for the gathering conflict. He’d left a few scouts outside the walls to bring advance word of any sighting of Raj Ahten’s troops, but had no more hopes of reinforcements.

He gave one last speech, calling on the full powers of his Voice to cut across distance, penetrate every stone of the castle. The knights and commoners and felons on the walls all looked up at him expectantly, every man bundled in his armor.

“Men,” he said, “you’ve heard that Raj Ahten took Castle Sylvarresta without benefit of arms. He used nothing but glamour and Voice to disarm Sylvarresta’s troops. And you know what happened to the knights in that castle afterward.

“Well, we’ll allow none of that here. If Raj Ahten seeks to use his Voice, I’ll expect every man within range to fire on him the same as if he were a charging army.

“When he leaves this field, either he’ll be dead, or we’ll be dead. If any of you young men succumb to the power of his Voice, my knights will throw you over the castle walls.

“We’ll not suffer children to spoil a man’s fight.

“May the Powers be with us!”

When he finished speaking, six thousand men raised their arms, chanting “Orden! Orden! Orden!”