make that mistake a second time. Now, move your cohort immediately. The cursed reeves will be out soon, but the day, and the victory, will belong to us. If Lord Blood visits your position, tell him to report to me at once.'
His horse sprang into the air, and Arras dropped to the ooze as hooves flashed above his head. When he rose, hands and knees dripping with muck, he stared after the lord commander's progress until the wings were caught by sunlight and abruptly vanished from his sight. The hells!
'Captain?'
'Sergeant Giyara.' He could speak, just barely, with an even voice as he tried to clap the muck off his gloves. 'Get the men over the bridges and form up for a frontal attack.'
Gods-cursed cloaks. As if he hadn't been the one who had argued against retreat in that first attack on Nessumara. Half his aides trotted away with the sergeant while he fumed on the canal's shore. The sun had risen high enough to spill its light over the canal's glossy waters. With Giyara in the van, troops began to funnel across the bridges. More enemy archers appeared on the wall platforms, but his archers kept up an efficient stream of fire.
Odd, really, how ephemeral that wall was, little more than planks and brush and hope. Surely they were not hinging their defense on it. He could not see Eighth Cohort much less the Eleventh and Ninth holding the right flank a mey upriver from his
position, but he heard the murmur of distant shouting, men eager to get to fighting and looting. An eagle glided past above, the first he'd seen. Otherwise, the sky remained empty but for a dark haze towering along the northern horizon.
Have Lord Blood report to me at once. Didn't Lord Radas know where his subcommander, his brother cloak, was?
A round back rolled out of the water and vanished so quickly he wasn't sure if he'd truly seen it. A rainbow of colors skimmed the surface where light glittered. A water bird — not one he recognized — floated past the lean-to, preening viciously at its feathers like a dog with the mange. Odd that it ignored them, for surely folk in this part of the world hunted fowl just as they did everywhere else. Instead, it labored at its brilliant plumage, then lifted its beak as though struggling to swallow.
The hells. Either the defenders left in haste, or they were cursed stupid.
Or it was a trap.
He ran a hand through the water. It was strangely slimy to the touch. He sniffed a finger, licked it.
Oil.
'The hells!' His words startled his aides. 'Call a full retreat. Get everyone off that island and form into marching order. We're moving back. Now.'
'The lord commander gave the order-' one protested.
'This is a trap, and the lord commander is too stubborn, or too vain, to see it. He's cursed puffed up with his gods-rotted power. But I see it, and I won't allow my cohort to get caught in it. Do as I say, or stand aside.'
They obeyed. They abandoned the wall, the island, and the bridges, and began a disciplined retreat across the ground they had so laboriously trudged over for the last two days. When men from the cadres who had been working on the breach reported that the debris was damp and slimy with oil, he sent a runner to the Eighth Cohort. Not in time.
They'd retreated not a quarter of a mey from the canal when flights of eagles swooped low, loosing arrows tipped with fire, and the land burst into flame. It was spectacular, really, easily seen across the flat landscape. The wall burst to become a ridge of fire, while flame skimmed along the canal like a coruscating snake racing along the ground. Bridges exploded into flame in sparkling yellows, whites, and blues like fireworks shot off at festival time.
The screams of the other cohorts, caught between the oil-soaked canal and the oil-soaked debris, chased his soldiers as they slogged across the mire to the causeway. Once up on the wide stone roadway, they marched unmolested and at double time toward Saltow. Away to the north, the haze was thickening, pillars rising into the sky. Something huge was burning. Had the defenders done what he'd not dared do: set fire to the land?
'Giyara,' he said, as they strode along in the rearguard, 'Lord Radas will have me cleansed for sure, but cursed if I'm going to sacrifice my soldiers for his ignorance. I'll do my best to protect the rest of you from his wrath. I'll face him alone.'
'What do we do when we reach Saltow?' asked Giyara.
Behind, Eighth Cohort soldiers came running, entirely routed.
'Hells if I know. But I'd be cursed curious to know who planned this defense. For that's a man who knows how to fight.'
Nallo had been pacing or sitting restlessly all day, too nervous and eager to rest, although Pil had lounged on a bench with his eyes shut, a repose of calm that would have irritated her if she wasn't so fond of him. He was the brother she'd always wished she had, wasn't he? Not the braggarts and teasers who had ceaselessly bullied her time and again until, time and again, she lost her temper — no difficult task — and got in trouble with this uncle or that aunt, who never liked her much anyway, her being lanky and cranky and, as they always said, not worth the food she scraped from the bottom of the clan pot.
She was cast of them now.
She had a new clan, among the reeves.
An eagle appeared downriver. Flags flashed the signal — battle had been joined in Nessumara! — and the two flights of reeves atop Law Rock leaped to their harness. Up they spiraled as the fire bell clanged three times, and then twice, and last once, alerting their allies in Toskala. Heavy amphorae whacked her knees as she guided Tumna in a swing downriver over the sparkling current and back around toward the city below. Smoke already trailed up from a bright blue fire within the Ilu temple in Stone Quarter, and fireworks burst from a Thunderer's temple in Flag Quarter, and last from one temple in each of the other three quarters, according to the plan. The flight glided around the rock and over Toskala. Markets cleared as folk ran for their homes, but from the height she saw men and women forming up inside compounds with staves
and shovels and hooks and work blades. Men pulled out wagons and carts. Then she was over the main garrison headquarters in Wolf Quarter. She cut the ropes that held one of the amphora. It plummeted, and shattered on the tile roof. She cut free the second, which crashed through the thatched roof of a shade awning in the courtyard, splattering soldiers come running to stare up.
Arrows tipped with flame flashed as Pil glided past on Sweet. Fire rippled down the roof tiles and caught in dry thatch. More arrows, unlit, struck among the soldiery, who scattered. Flame eddied along the packed dirt of the courtyard. More amphorae hit; then they passed over the gates to the tents and corrals of the garrisons, livestock herds and auxiliary encampment. She released the last two amphorae over the command tents. Pil shot, striking true. Flames stuttered and caught. The horses went wild.
The eagles swung wide. Coming around, she saw smoke and fire rising in the garrison strongholds. She headed back for Law Rock to pick up the second and last load of oil — mostly common cooking oil — while Pil and the other reeves who were decent archers spiraled low over the city in support of the locals streaming out of their compounds.
Toskala had risen.
Nekkar sat in the shade of the porch on a thin pillow, teaching the apprentices the intricacies of the Tale of the Guardians, as it was chanted on the new moon. It was a good way to pass the time in the heat of a dry-season afternoon when everyone was exhausted from the months of occupation and weak from hunger. The young ones drooped; several dozed off and snorted awake as his voice startled them.
'When we speak of the orphaned girl who calls to the gods, we change the timbre of the chant to show respect for her courage and honor. The signs begin at chest height, close to the heart to show our connection to those who came before us, our ancestors. Then' — his own hands sketched the gestures — 'rise to show her courage and honor rising as she dares the dangerous path to Indiyabu. Her path is our path, for we must all rise in the quest for justice, we must brave the dangerous path because to stand aside and do nothing is a form of death. We turn our back on the gods when we turn our back on justice. We strive to show the same courage and honor that she displayed-'
The fire bell atop Law Rock clanged three times. He ceased
speaking. Every apprentice looked up, eyes widening. The silence opened as hearts raced.
The fire bell rang twice. Envoys scurried into the courtyard, abandoning their daily tasks.
