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Now… Now the Algarvians didn't seem to have so much with which to strike the invaders. Cornelu had seen as much on his last trip to Sibiu on leviathanback. His laugh was hard and cold. "That's what you get for taking on Unkerlant," he said, and laughed again.

Algarve had been recruiting Sibians to help fight its battles when he was there. He supposed they would mostly have gone to Unkerlant, too, the fools. How many of them crouched low in holes in the ground along with their Algarvian overlords, looking at vengeance here out on the ocean? However many traitors there were, Cornelu wished he could kill them all himself. Since he couldn't, he hoped the dragons overhead, the eggs tossed from the warships ashore, and the soldiers landing on the beaches would do the job for him.

He'd had his hopes dashed too many times in this war: his hopes for how the war would go, his hopes for his kingdom, his hopes for his marriage and his happiness. He was afraid to have hopes any more, for fear something would go wrong and ruin them anew.

Did King Burebistu have hopes? Like Gainibu of Valmiera, he'd been an Algarvian captive the past three years and more. Like Gainibu, he probably counted himself lucky that Mezentio hadn't booted him off the throne and replaced him with some Algarvian royal relative he wanted to get out of his hair. What was the King of Sibiu doing now? Something useful? Rallying the people in the palace against the Algarvian occupiers? Maybe. If Sibiu was lucky, just maybe.

But then Cornelu stopped worrying about Burebistu or anything farther away than the Algarvian ley-line frigate sliding down from the north toward the landing boats. Its egg-tossers and heavy sticks tore at the invaders; no Lagoan or Kuusaman warships were close enough to deal with it right away.

"I am," Cornelu said, and then, to his leviathan, "We are." He urged his mount forward. The frigate was faster than the leviathan, but if he could get to the ley line ahead of the ship's path and wait… If he could do that, he might give a good many of Mezentio's men a very thin time of it indeed.

He slid under the leviathan's belly, ready to loosen the egg slung there and fasten it to the frigate's hull. But he reached the ley line just too late; the frigate had already glided past. He couldn't even curse, not underwater, but red rage filled his thoughts.

As much from rage as for any other reason, he ordered the leviathan after the ley-line frigate. As long as the frigate kept going, it would leave the leviathan behind; it was, after all, steel and sorcery, not mere flesh and blood. But the frigate slowed when it got in among the landing boats. With so many targets all around, its captain wanted to make sure he missed none. Eggs started bursting near the frigate from ships that had seen the danger to the soldiers, but none struck home.

If one of those eggs burst too close to the leviathan, it could do as much harm as if the Algarvians tossed it. That was Cornelu's first thought. His second was, If one of those eggs bursts too close to me… But he had his duty, and a fine warm hatred of Mezentio's men to boot. He urged the leviathan forward.