They emerged onto the third-floor landing. The others were assembled. Hern and Sermas still stood guard, looking decidedly nervous at the close proximity of the dead vertag. Sermas especially seemed weak in the knees.
Janis opened Clemon’s door and marched in, Khollo and Ondus close behind. “Apologies for disturbing you, Lord Clemon,” he said. “But we have a guest here who insists on seeing you before he goes.”
“I have more important things to do than receive every vagabond who wanders across the Basin,” Clemon sneered. “Just now, I’m planning my report to the king over your treasonous behavior.”
Janis snorted. “Hope you’re not too far along on that. Our guest may change your mind.”
The two soldiers dragged the vertag in front of Clemon. The king’s chatelain gave an undignified whimper and retreated until his back came up against the wall of the tower. He placed his trembling right hand over his heart, pointing at the vertag with a visibly shaking finger.
“That . . . that’s not possible,” he croaked.
“I beg to differ,” Janis replied. “This vertag was caught just outside the fortress walls. Ondus here was wounded in the struggle and two other men are dead.”
“Dead?”
Janis nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Clemon fumbled with the window latch, flinging the shutters wide. Khollo lurched forward thinking that the noble meant to throw himself through the window. But Clemon merely retched through the portal. An unpleasant splattering noise accompanied his gagging.
Janis wrinkled his nose distastefully. “I hope he kept that off the walls of the tower. Fortunately, this window is on the north side so he isn’t spewing into the courtyard.”
“That is indeed something to be thankful for,” Ondus said fervently. Clemon continued retching, leaning against the window frame for support.
“Sermas, Hern, keep an eye on him,” Janis said. “I’ll send a replacement as soon as possible. In the meantime, we need to bury our dead.”
“What about this?” Ondus asked, nudging the vertag with the toe of his boot.
“It can keep Lord Clemon company,” Janis grunted. “That’ll prevent him from deciding he dreamed the whole thing.”
“Good idea,” Khollo put in, watching the king’s chatelain.
“I’ll start marshaling the troops,” Janis muttered. “I think we had better be prepared for an attack tonight.”
“Yes,” Ondus agreed. “I will command the men on the walls below. You, Khollo, Hern and Sermas will man the tower. Keep them busy with your bow, Khollo.”
“That’s the plan,” Khollo agreed. “Get your wound looked after. By the time you’re done with that, everyone will have their orders and you can take command of the wall.”
Three hours later, Khollo, Janis, Ondus, Sermas, and Hern were sitting at the council table ravenously attacking a late lunch of sliced beef sandwiches. The defenders of the West Bank had been given their orders. Soldiers would man the walls, under the command of Ondus, who would lead from the wall over the gatehouse. The eleven remaining cadets under the command of Sergeant Wilkes would fight as a reserve force, darting around to shore up the defenses, deliver more arrows, and carry messages to the various leaders. Sermas, Hern, Khollo, and Janis would command from the top of the keep tower. Khollo was to keep the vertaga occupied with his bow, if he had clear targets. The others were to watch how the battle was progressing and keep an eye on the trap door, in case the vertaga should break through.
“Can we hold the fortress?” Sermas asked at one point during the tense meal.
Janis shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
Sermas did not look at all reassured.
Ondus shot Janis an irritated look. “We have a good chance,” he told Sermas. “We have high walls, good archers, and determined defenders. With any luck, the vertaga are expecting to catch us off guard. They’ll be overconfident, sloppy. And we’ll exploit that and use it to defeat them.”
Sermas nodded, then returned his attention to his sandwich, looking considerably more relaxed.
Khollo finished his own sandwich and leaned forward. “There’s something we need to discuss,” he said quietly. “You may not like it though.”
“Like not liking vertaga preparing to storm the fortress?” Hern asked.
“Not that bad,” Khollo reassured him. “The question is, what do we do with Clemon’s soldiers and Clemon himself?”
Ondus smiled wryly. The others looked uncertain. Janis was scowling.
“We have several good warriors in prison right now,” Khollo explained. “And the chatelain will hardly be safe in his room once the fighting starts.”
“What are you proposing?” Janis growled. “That we release them so they can betray us later?”
“I’m proposing that we assign Clemon’s guards to the defense of the gate, and keep Clemon on the roof with us,” Khollo replied evenly.
“No, I won’t nanny him during the battle. He can stay in the kitchens with the other women and children.” Janis pushed to his feet and moved to the windows, eying the lands to the south.
“Janis, we need those men,” Khollo persisted, wondering what had come over his uncle. “A few trained soldiers could make all the difference. Show them the beast’s corpse and they will believe. They will fight. Meanwhile, we have to protect Clemon. He is our only chance of convincing King Orram to marshal our armies. From the tower, he can watch with us. He will see the vertaga, see how they fight and realize that they are a threat.”
Janis said nothing.
“Janis, your judgement is clouded by your past,” Ondus said gravely. All trace of mirth had vanished from his blue eyes. For once, he was deadly serious. “You cannot let the events of the first war dictate what happens now!”
“Ondus is right,” Khollo put in. “You cannot let grief and grudges define who you are. We need – ”
Janis whirled around. “Do not speak to me about grief,” he snarled. “What would you know of such loss?”
Khollo met his uncle’s furious gaze
