“No,” Gaborn said more firmly. His father had always tried to protect him. Now he saw that his father would continue to do so, even if it cost his own life. But Gaborn was a Runelord, and though his endowments were few, they were over a broad spectrum. With wit and grace and stamina, he could fight in a battle like this better than any common soldier. Besides, he’d trained a good deal in tactics and swordplay.

As the son of a king, he’d learned to defend himself, though he doubted he’d be much of a match for one of Raj Ahten’s Invincibles.

Iome grabbed the sleeve of Gaborn’s tunic, whispered fiercely. “Do as your father says! Take me to Groverman. When we reach him, I will order him to fight!”

With a sinking feeling, Gaborn realized she was right. Groverman’s castle stood little more than thirty miles away. If he ran the horses, he could be there within a couple of hours.

“Do as she asks,” Orden said. “Perhaps it would help. Groverman has been gathering his forces. He may have ten thousand defenders on his walls by now.”

Gaborn knew he would have to do it, would have to take Iome to Groverman. Yet he’d be five hours or more at the task. He wouldn’t be able to return here before noon. By then Raj Ahten’s troops would have reached Longmot; their siege would be set.

If Raj Ahten’s hundred thousand reinforcements arrived, Gaborn wouldn’t be able to dislodge the Wolf Lord.

“Iome,” Gaborn asked, “may my father and I speak alone for a moment?”

“Of course,” Iome said, and she left. King Sylvarresta remained in the room, eating at the tables. Gaborn’s and his father’s Days also stayed.

Gaborn felt . . . strangely cognizant of their presence, embarrassed by it. Still, when Iome left, he went to his father, put his arms around the man’s shoulders, and cried.

“Here now,” his father whispered, “why should a prince weep?”

“You’re sending me on a fruitless mission,” Gaborn said. “I can feel it. Something . . . is terribly wrong.” He did not know how to speak of it, but he felt that they needed to discuss things—what should happen if one of them died. They’d spoken of this possibility many times over the years, after Gaborn’s mother was murdered, other times since. Yet this time, Gaborn felt a sense of inevitability.

What he really wanted, what he needed, was to say goodbye.

“How can we know our fight is fruitless?” his father asked. “I can detain Raj Ahten until you return.