“We’re trying to get everyone to safety,” Galloran said. “But they need to be prepared for the worst contingencies.”

The horses sped up. Rachel encouraged them with Edomic. Drake had ridden Mandibar hard earlier, and even though the mare had not traveled quickly, she had covered rough terrain nonstop all night and for part of a day. And who knew how hard the horses had run to make it around the Sunken Lands? Even so, both horses managed a loping gait that swiftly took Rachel beyond view of her friends.

The way steepened, twisting ever higher into the mountains. Rachel tried not to think of Jason and the others having to cover all of the same ground on foot with a cavalry in pursuit.

They rounded a bend, and an enormous fortification finally came into view at the top of the pass, spanning the gorge like a dam. A raised drawbridge made the imposing wall even less inviting.

As they rode forward, further details became apparent. Soldiers could be seen among the battlements atop the gate. A pair of maroon banners, emblazoned with golden peaks, hung from the top of the massive granite wall. Scores of holes lined the sides of the pass above the gate. Rachel glimpsed faces peering from some of the holes and concluded that the apertures allowed defenders to fire arrows from tunnels in the mountainside.

Rachel slowed her mare as they reached the base of the wall. Corinne drew up beside her. It had to be more than fifty feet high, and in front of the base ran a deep trench with spikes bristling along the bottom.

“Are we near enough to address the gate wardens?” Galloran asked.

“If you shout,” Rachel guessed.

Galloran dismounted and raised his voice. “Hail, children of Eldrin! Could one of you fetch your captain?”

“I am Halak, High Captain of West Gate,” a tall figure answered from above. “We have not been ignorant of your approach, traveler. Why have you brought bloodshed to our doorstep when we make it no secret that this gate is sealed to outsiders?”

“Will it not open for an honorary kinsman?”

“Who am I addressing?”

“I am Galloran, heir to the throne of Trensicourt and sworn ally of the Amar Kabal.”

The captain paused. “If you speak truth, what errand brings you to the borders of our land unannounced?”

“If I speak truth?” Galloran repeated incredulously. He tore the rag from his eyes, revealing his scarred sockets. “I once frequented these vales. The years have not been generous, and I now wear a beard, but does no man upon the wall recognize my face?”

“My apologies,” Halak answered. “Why do you seek entry into our land?”

“By ceremony, I am a friend of the Amar Kabal. I wish to invoke my right to bring a proposal before the Conclave.”

“So you are not seeking passage through this gate to evade imperial pursuit?”

“The riders who pursue us are a consequence of my visit, not the motivation. We set out from Fortaim many days ago with this destination in mind.”

“Regardless of your intent, given the circumstances, admitting you could jeopardize our tenuous relations with Felrook.”

Galloran replaced his blindfold. “Dozens of imperial soldiers have invaded the neutral territory between your gate and the Sunken Lands to hunt my companions and me. The emperor is in open violation of your treaty already. His horsemen are chasing us up the gorge. Given the opportunity, they will cut us down outside your very gates.”

“We’re aware of their movements,” Halak replied carefully.

“We come bearing a tribute of more than fifty orantium spheres, including two of the large globes known as gatecrashers. I imagine you would not relish the idea of these explosives falling into enemy hands.”

“A bribe and a threat in the same breath. Which should I heed?”

“Neither. I am conversant with your laws. Until my friendship status is revoked, it remains my right to pass through this gate at will. My status can only be revoked by a majority decision of the Conclave, at a hearing where I am afforded the opportunity to speak in my defense.”

“I cannot refute your claim. But your privileged status does not extend to your comrades.”

“I can vouch for each of my nine companions. When I last visited your realm, my word would have been more than sufficient to secure a welcome. I recognize that times are changing. I do not visit to abuse my privileges. I do not seek prolonged sanctuary for myself or my companions. Grant us admittance for a week, so I can bring vital information before your Conclave. Complain to Felrook that I invoked my legal rights, according to your laws. We will voluntarily depart after I conduct my affairs with your elders. If your leaders so choose, you can turn us over to the minions of the emperor at that time. No harm will befall your delicate treaty.”

“Who are your companions? I only count three.”

“This is Tark, former musician with the Giddy Nine, who requires urgent treatment for lungrot and who recently returned the seed of Jasher to the guards at East Gate. Forgive his unconsciousness. He rides with my daughter, Corinne. And we’re also joined by a Beyonder named Rachel, a promising Edomic adept.”

“And the others?”

“Only two of our horses remain with us. The rest of my comrades straggle behind us on foot. My bodyguard, Dorsio, is not present; nor is my assistant, Nedwin, formerly of the House of Geer; nor is Ferrin, my chief scout. We also travel with Aram, a smuggler from Ithilum; Lord Jason of Caberton, a Beyonder who has joined the fight against Maldor; and Drake of the Amar Kabal.”

“Drake, the son of Hessit?” Halak exclaimed. “He accepted an invitation to Harthenham!”

“And recently fought his way free,” Galloran added.

“Very well,” Halak responded. “You are a man of no small reputation, Galloran. I will admit you and your companions. You will have your hearing before the Conclave. Be forewarned: It is possible that you are merely stalling your capture rather than evading it.”

“We understand.”

Halak gave a signal, and the iron-plated drawbridge clattered open, spanning the trench at the base of the wall. Galloran climbed back onto the horse with Rachel. As the group crossed the bridge, Rachel glanced down into the trench at the thicket of spikes.

The wall was quite thick, with a pair of raised portcullises, and a huge gate standing open at the far side. In the paved yard beyond, many soldiers stood at attention, mostly clad in leather armor. A group of at least twenty sat astride horses. The men were mainly armed with swords and spears. Several women held longbows. They all had a portion of their hair rolled up at the nape of their necks. Jasher had once explained that the style helped conceal and protect their seeds.