"There are no enemy dead," Jagang said, surveying the sight as he limped along with the aid of a pike a soldier had handed him. "What could have done this?"

"Nothing living," a Sister said.

As they moved quickly down the hill, making their way past the silent battle line, not far in front of the heaps of corpses, others of the cavalry, far down the slope on the other side of a wall in an area among small garden buildings and trees, spotted the emperor and raced out to protect him. Soldiers on horseback-numbering less than a thousand out of the over forty thousand they started with-swept in to surround the company returning from the palace. A number of the Sisters rode in, pulling in close to the emperor to provide an inner circle of defense.

Rusty, trailed by Pete, trotted across the lawns, accompanying the tattered remnants of the cavalry. When Jennsen whistled, Rusty recognized the call and rushed in to be close to her. The mare, nuzzling Jennsen's shoulder, voiced a plaintive whinny, eager for comfort. Rusty and Pete weren't cavalry horses, trained to be accustomed to the terrors of war. Jennsen ran a soothing hand over the horse's trembling neck and rubbed her ears. She gave similar comfort to Pete when he pressed his forehead against the back of her shoulder.

"What happened!" Jagang called out in a rage. "How could you let yourselves be taken like this?"

The officer leading the men on horseback looked around in dismay. "Excellency, it was… out of the clear air. It wasn't anything we could fight.»

"Are you trying to tell me it was ghosts!" Jagang bellowed.

"I think it was the horses the scout smelled," another officer said. His arm was bandaged up high but soaked in blood.

"I want to know what's going on," Jagang said as he glared around at the faces watching him. "How could this have happened?"

As men brought extra horses, Sister Perdita dismounted close by. "Excellency, it was some kind of attack involving magic-phantom horsemen invoked by wizardry is the only explanation I have."

His menacing eyes were leveled at her in a way that made even Jennsen quail. "Then why didn't you and your Sisters stop it?"

"It wasn't anything like the conjured magic we ordinarily encounter. I believe it had to be a form of constructed magic, or we would have not only detected it, but been able to stop it. At least, that's what I assume. I've never actually seen any constructed magic, but I've heard of it. Whatever this was that attacked us would not respond to anything we tried."

The emperor was still frowning darkly at her. "Magic is magic. You should have stopped it. That's what you were here for."

"Constructed magic is different than conjured, Excellency."

"Different? How?"

"Rather than using the gift on the spot, constructed magic has already been made up in advance. It can be preserved for a great period of timethousands of years, maybe even forever. When it's needed, the spell is triggered and the magic is loosed."

"Triggered by what?" Sebastian asked.

Sister Perdita shook her head in frustration. "By just about anything, as I've heard it told. It just depends on how it was constructed. No wizard now is able to construct such a spell. We know little about those ancient wizards or what they could do, but from what little we do know, a constructed spell could be something kept dry that comes to life when you get it wet-for example something to help fertilize crops when the spring rains come. It could be triggered by heating, like a cure taken for a feverthe cure carries a construction in and the fever triggers it. Others are triggered by a little magic, some by an elaborate application of incredibly intricate wizardry and great power."

"So," Jennsen reasoned, "someone with magic must have unleashed something so powerful as these phantom horsemen? A wizard, or a sorceress, or something?"

Sister Perdita shook her head. "It could be that kind of constructed magic, but it could just as easily be a spell-albeit an incredibly powerful one-kept in a thimble, and triggered by exposing the construction to… anything-horse dung, even."

Emperor Jagang waved off the very notion. "But something that small and easily triggered wouldn't be this powerful."

"Excellency," the Sister said, "in this, you can't equate the apparent material size of the construction or its trigger with the result-they have no relational value, at least not in the terms in which most people think. The trigger has no bearing on the power of the construction. Even the construction and its trigger are not necessarily relational. There is simply no rule by which to judge a construction."

The emperor swept an arm out before the tens of thousands of men and horses tangled in death. "But, surely, something of this magnitude had to have been something more."

"The army of phantom horsemen who carried out this attack might have been triggered by a wizard drawing spells in magic dust while speaking an incredibly complex invocation, or it could just as easily have been a book containing a cavalry counter that is simply opened to the proper page and held out before the attacking force-even from miles away.

Even the simple fear of a person holding out such a construction could be the trigger."

"You mean, anyone might accidentally trigger one, then?" Jennsen asked.

"Of course. That's what makes them so dangerous. But from what I've read, that kind is exceedingly rare. Because they can be so dangerous, most are layered in complex precautions and fail-safe mechanisms involving the most profound knowledge of the application of magic."

"But," Jennsen asked, "once a person-a wizard-with that advanced knowledge removes those layers of precautions and fail-safe mechanisms, then they might be set off by one final, simple trigger?"

Sister Perdita gave Jennsen a meaningful look. "Exactly."

"So," Jagang said, gesturing around at the thousands of bodies, "this force of phantom cavalry might be sent out again at any moment to finish us off."

The Sister shook her head. "As I understand it, a constructed spell is usually good only once. It's used up by doing what it was constructed to do. That's one reason they're rare; once used, they're gone forever, and there are no longer any wizards alive who can make more."

"Why haven't we encountered such constructed spells before?" Sebastian asked with growing impatience. "And why now, all of a sudden?"

Sister Perdita stared at him for a moment, a picture of bottled anger that Jennsen knew she would never have dared direct at the emperor, even though the attack on the Confessors' Palace, which he ordered, against her warning, had resulted in the deaths of many of her Sisters of the Light.

With a show of deliberate care, Sister Perdita pointed up at the dark Keep hard against the mountain above them. "There are a thousand rooms in the Wizard's Keep if there's one," she said in a low voice. "A good many of them will be stuffed full of nasty things. It's likely that when we drove them here for the winter, that wizard of theirs-Wizard Zoranderfinally had the good long time he needed to search through the Keep, looking for just the kinds of things he hitherto lacked, so as to be ready for us when spring arrived and we advanced toward Aydindril. I fear to think what catastrophic surprises he yet has in store for us. That Keep has stood invincible for thousands of years."

Sebastian's glare turned as dark as Jagang's "Why haven't you warned us about this? I never heard you say anything."

"I did. You were gone."

"You've also advised against many other things, as well, and we've overcome them," Jagang growled at her. "When you fight a war, you must expect to take risks and to take casualties. Only those who dare, win."

Sebastian gestured up at the Keep. "What other things might we expect?"

"Constructed spells are only one of the dangers in fighting these people. None of us Sisters really considered constructed spells a great threat because they're so rare, but, as you can see, even one constructed spell is profoundly perilous. Who knows what even more deadly things might be waiting to be unleashed.

"What's more, there's a whole world of dangers we can't even begin to conceive of. Their winter weather, alone, has killed hundreds of thousands of our men without the enemy having to lift a finger or risk a single man. That, alone, has done more damage to us than almost any battle or calamity of magic. Did we expect such losses from something so simple as snow and cold weather? Did our size and strength protect us from it? Are those hundreds of thousands any less of a loss because they died of fever rather than some fancy application of magic? What difference does it make to the dead-or those left to fight?

"I admit, to a soldier, winning because your enemy falls ill might not seem very glamorous or heroic, but dead is dead. Our army outnumbers these people many times over, yet we lost those hundreds of thousands to fever because of simple weather-not the magic you are so worried about us protecting you from."

"But in a real fight," Sebastian scoffed, "then our numbers really mean something and will win out."

"Tell that to those who died of fever. Numbers don't always determine the winner."

"That's outlandish," Sebastian shot back.

Sister Perdita pointed at the line of dead. "Tell it to them."

"We must take risks if we're to win," Jagang said, settling the matter. "What I want to know is if the enemy can be expected to throw more of these constructed spells at us?"

Sister Perdita shook her head, as if to say she had no idea. "I doubt that Wizard Zorander knows much about the constructed spells kept there. Such magic is no longer understood well."

"He apparently understood one of them pretty well," Sebastian said.

"And, that might have been the only one he understood well enough to use. As I said before, once used, constructed spells are used up."

"But it's also possible," Jennsen interrupted, "that there are more constructed spells he does understand."

"Yes. Or, for all anyone knows, this could have been the last constructed spell in existence. On the other hand, he might be sitting in there with a hundred of them in his lap, all much worse than this one. There is simply no way to know."