“The Umbrish fellow was Noosh, a pit fighting slave who escaped and came to us. He was too violent, too unpredictable. He got into too many fights in our colony, so we sent him up the White Road, where his skills turned out to be more appreciated. The Illyrian is Porger. I don’t know much about him. I would imagine he was a crow’s nester, like our Reiwyn here. Whom you didn’t see, but I have no doubt he was there, was Quanglee. A Kettish cannibal turned pirate. They are Burlone’s lieutenants, probably the only people in the world he trusts. They are no less dangerous than he.”
Something had been weighing on me, festering in my brain like a splinter. “He said we had two choices. Give him our women or he would take them. What did he mean? Surely he knows we’ll be more on guard for treachery now that we know he has people in the colony working for him.”
Arn stared at the flames. “He means to take them.”
“Take them?” asked Uller. “How would he do that?”
The realization dawned upon me like a spear’s strike. “He said he didn’t care about our wall.”
Arn nodded, but it was Sharkhart who answered, “He means to come and take them from us. He will bring an army.”
We received a hero’s welcome when we returned to the colony, but it did little to quell the sour taste in my mouth. Antioc was up again, and greeted Zin with a big hug. For me he had a handshake and a pat on the shoulder, adding to his greeting, “I wish I could have been with you.”
“So do I,” I replied.
Hratoe ran to Gargath’s arms, silent tears streaming down her little cheeks. Some came out looking for Landis and Doten, and were saddened to see they’d not returned with us. We’d been forced to send them to ashes on the White Road. I’d barely known them, probably wouldn’t have liked them if I had, but they’d died bravely, in part to protect me. That made me feel responsible for them, no matter how ridiculous that seemed. I thought of saying something to their friends as they cried, an expression of gratitude, but there wasn’t anything I could think of that would soften the sting of their deaths. I wondered if I’d have been so mourned were I among the fallen?
It was near time for the mid-day meal. Arn told us to eat and rest, he would wish to meet with us later. We sat in the mess hall, surrounding a table from right to left with Reiwyn next to me, then Blackfoot, Antioc, Front-Strider, Uller, Zin, Gargath, and finally Hratoe on my right. We shared stories and drinks, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. For the first time since arriving here, I felt at home. I couldn’t shake that feeling, no matter how I tried.
26.
I suspected he would ask us to fight, and I was right. When we met with Arn, he had his big, hand-drawn map of the colony laid out on the table for us to see. He pointed at the stretch of earth and beach along the eastern border of the colony and told us the attack would come from there; the Scumdogs would not risk traversing the forest lest their clamor attract the attention of the gluttons.
Everyone reacted predictably. Antioc was stalwart. Uller was cautious but inquisitive. Blackfoot was excited, though noticeably afraid. Reiwyn was impassioned, as if the Scumdogs attack on the colony was somehow a personal slight against her. Hratoe was silent while Gargath struggled to sign everyone’s words to her. Front-Strider was statuesque, and I . . . ? I was quiet as well, until Arn asked me a direct question.
“What do you think of our odds?”
At first I wasn’t sure he was asking me. Why would he ask me? I was no tactician. I just built things. I looked around at the others to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood him, but I knew I had him right when I saw everyone looking at me. I still couldn’t believe it. “You’re asking me?”
“You’re the closest thing we have to an expert.”
I forced a short laugh. “I’m no fighter. You’d be better off asking Antioc or Sharkhart or Front-Strider. They would be a wiser counsel than I.”
“They are fighters,” said Arn, looking at each of them as he leaned over the table with his hands pressed to it. “Good fighters, but for this we need planners. Strategists. Tacticians.”
“Again, I am none of that.”
“You built and used machines of war.”
“Built them, yes. I very rarely was called upon to use them. Even when I was, the planning was not mine.”
“Nonetheless, you built the wall, and the wall is our strongest point against the invaders. Surely you can counsel us on the odds of our wall surviving an attack?”
I ran a finger across my chin and stepped to the table. I stared at it for a short time. “It depends.”
“Depends upon what?”
My mouth was dry from nerves. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Most defensible fortifications are built of brick, not wood. Wood is only used for temporary locations, or when no stone is available. When I built this wall, it was to be a barrier against infiltration, not invasion. Had I known—”
“Do you have time to build another wall?” asked Sharkhart.
“Time? Perhaps. But time is not the question. The question is if we have the stone.”
“There are many stones in the lagoon,” offered Antioc.
“Not enough.”
“Then the forest?” said Blackfoot.
I shook my head. “Even if we dared brave the forest for stones, it wouldn’t be enough for a wall. We’d need a quarry, which is in itself a great work. We’d be better off using clay to fire bricks, but I doubt you have anyone in the colony skilled in making bricks. Even if you did, it would take months to extract the clay, construct the ovens, and fire the bricks. No, if we’re to stand against the Scumdogs, it will have to be with the wall we have already.”
“You’ve not answered the question, Lew,” said Arn. “Will the wall hold?”
I widened my eyes for a moment and crossed my arms. “Again, that depends.”
“On─?”
“On how skilled they are in siege warfare.” I looked around at everyone. “Have any of you besides Antioc even been involved in a siege?” No one. Just as I thought. I sighed and pointed at the map, running my fingers along ground east of gate. “Assuming they aren’t completely incompetent in these matters, the first thing they will do is establish a line of circumvallation. Since we’re alone here, they’ll have no need to set up a line of contravallation.”
“I see.” Arn nodded. “And what are those things?”
I put my face in my hands. After taking a long breath I explained, “A line of circumvallation is set up to prevent us from breaking out to fight them as they prepare for an incursion. A line of contravallation prevents assistance from outside forces attacking the besiegers from the rear of their line. As I said, we’ve no hope of outside aid, so our attackers can instead focus all their attention on circumvallation.”
“And that is bad for us?”
“Yes. You see what I mean? These are the most basic principles of a siege, and you’re dependent on me as an expert.”
“Considering our circumstances, I would say someone acquainted even with the basics is an expert.”
“How long will a siege last?” asked Melvon; who until then I hadn’t even noticed was present.
“Days, weeks, months. It depends on how long our stores last and how disciplined our foe is.”
“We can last months. All our farms are inside the wall and our water is gathered from wells. We may run short of fish and longcrab, but we can easily make do with other food,” said Melvon.
Arn shook his head. “Burlone is a pirate, not a soldier. Same with the rest of the Scumdogs. They’ve no temperament for a protracted engagement.”
I leaned against the map table, holding myself up on the edges with my hands open. “Then they will try immediately to breech the wall.”
“So the question is, how much do we trust our wall?”
“Being wood, they may try to burn it. That would be folly, as they would have to get close enough for us to attack.”
Reiwyn asked, “Couldn’t they hit it with flaming arrows fr
om range?”
“They could, but such flames would be small and easily extinguished before they raged out of control. If they attack anything with flame, it will be the buildings inside the wall. Keep us busy putting out fires while they attack. We’ll need fire brigades. Anyone who can’t fight can help.”
“I don’t understand why they’re even attacking us,” interrupted Uller. “They’ve been using subterfuge for years, why risk an assault now?”
“Because they no longer have their agent within our walls,” explained Arn. “Without Ferun here, they’ve nothing to lose. They’re coming to kill us and take the women as slaves. Better to take them all at once then risk losing us all if we decide to abandon the colony.”
“Would we abandon the colony?”
Arn shook his head. “No. But Burlone doesn’t know that.” He looked at me. “What else might they try?”
I thought for a moment. “It depends . . .”
“On?” He was growing irritated with that answer, but it was the best I could do.
“On if they have any engineers among them.”
“I doubt it. They are pirates.”
“They are pirates now. Who knows what they were before?” I rubbed my chin. “Still, we can count on them having at least a shipwright.”
“So?”
“So, they will know how to construct a battering ram.” I pointed at the gate, then at the walls. “And ladders, to attempt an escalade.”
“Why both?” asked Antioc.
I ran my fingers along the wall on the map. “They will seek to split our defenses. Those who are dealing with the ram cannot repel the escalades, and vice versa.” I gestured to the area off the map just beyond our walls. “In either case, they’ll pepper the defenders with arrows from a safe distance.”
“Then we’ll pepper them right back,” said Reiwyn.
“They’ll have more archers than us. And arrows. And if they run out, they can depend on their supply lines from Drullcove for more. Can we say the same?” Silence. “I didn’t think so.”
“Will the gate hold?” asked Arn.
“No gate is unbreechable, given enough time and effort, even the strongest gate will fall. The best we can hope to do is fortify it with beams. But, eventually, they will get in.”
“And then we will fight them.” That was Antioc, tightening his fists. Everyone but me seemed to nod in agreement. I would have to have a word with him later about that.
“I’m beginning to see,” said Arn with a nod. “The more men we force them to expend breeching the gate, the fewer we will need to fight when they finally get in.” He looked at me. “What can be done to make their incursion as costly as possible?”
“I . . .” I took a few seconds and looked at my friends. First Antioc, who seemed ready to fight, then Reiwyn, who was no less resolute. Uller was uncertain, which was good, because I was dependent on him to be the fellow voice of reason. Blackfoot was difficult to read. He seemed so happy all the time, there was no telling what he really wanted, but I assumed he would do whatever Reiwyn wished. “I will need time to think it over.”
“What is there to discuss?” asked Reiwyn when I got the five of us alone by the lagoon.
“This isn’t our fight,” I explained.
“We’ve had this discussion before,” said Antioc. “You chose to stay and help them.”
“I agreed to build a wall, and the wall is built. Either it will hold and they will survive, or it will fall and they’ll all die or get sold to slavery. What good will five more souls do in this fight?”
“You know as well as any of us that we are more than just five more souls.” Reiwyn’s eyes flared as she spoke. I did so love it when she got worked up, I just didn’t prefer when it was directed at me. “Antioc is the strongest arm in the colony, probably the best fighter, too. Uller is a wizard—”
“Apprentice,” he corrected.
“Blackfoot can be near invisible if he wishes, and I trained most of the archers in the colony. And you . . .” She seemed to be struggling over this next part. “You’re a genius.”
“Yes, I know. But that doesn’t mean I can do this.” I ran my eyes over the lot of them. “Even if I concede that we’re all the best at our respective skills—which, we may very well be—that doesn’t mean we’ll stand a chance in open warfare against the Scumdogs.”
“I’ve fought before,” said Antioc. “We all have. You and I have even fought in a war.”
“Against Illyrian conscripts. These aren’t a bunch of teenage boys who got slapped in armor and handed a spear three days before you met them on the field. These are pirates. Not just any pirates, either. Pirates so dangerous and brutal that they had to stop being pirates because their bounties were too high!”
“We have an obligation,” countered Reiwyn.
“Arn absolved me of any obligation personally. On the White Road, he told me I’d already done more for this colony than anyone ever had. I take that absolution to include all of you, too.”
They didn’t look convinced. “It’s not as though we’re leaving these people with nothing. Since we’ve arrived, the colony has a fine new wall, a unit of highly trained archers, and we’ve exposed Ferun as a traitor. By any objective measure, the colony is better off now than it was when we arrived. We don’t owe these people anything!”
“What about our friends?” asked Blackfoot.
“And Zin,” added Uller.
I threw up my hands and shrugged. “You know what, they can come with us. Gargath, Hratoe, Front-Strider, the whole gang. If they come, they can join us. They’ll be plenty of treasure to share.”
“Zin won’t abandon them,” said Uller.
“Neither will Front-Strider. He was here before we arrived,” said Blackfoot.
“That’s their choice to make,” I countered. “The least we can do is offer to let them come along. Even Arn, if he wants—”
“Arn would never desert the colony!” snapped Reiwyn.
I held my hands up like I was pressing an invisible wall between us. “Of that I am well aware. It just seemed rude not to offer.”
Everyone was silent for a while. None of them would look at me. Fair. Then I wouldn’t look at any of them. I gazed at the sun setting over the colony, casting bright yellow beams over the sharpened tops of the wall pillars. It was all so peaceful right now. Beautiful, even. It seemed a shame for any harm to come to it . . . no! Now was no time for sentimentality. Like it or not, I was the leader, and the leader had to remain firm.
“What about our obligation to Roren? His legacy?”
“Jetsam! You don’t care a spit about Roren’s legacy,” said Reiwyn. “You never did. We had to talk you into even taking up this quest.”
“Yes, which is ironic since you’re now trying to talk me out of it.”
“We’re not trying to talk you out of anything. We can defend the colony and travel to Xanas Muir. There’s at least a month left before winter . . .”
“What if one of us gets hurt? Antioc is the strongest one here, and a beating from Ferun put him down for a week. No offense.” Antioc raised his hand to wave me on. “Can you imagine how long a cutlass blade or well-aimed arrow would take us out for? Assuming we survived. What then? What are we going to do if one of us dies? What happens to Roren’s legacy then? All five of us have to be alive to breech Xanas Muir. The graybeard was very clear on that, that’s why he only entrusted each of us with one part of the puzzle, so we’d do it together.”
They didn’t have anything to say to that. That was because they knew I was right. I waited a few minutes for it to soak into their brains. It didn’t look like they were taking it very comfortably, but take it they did. Any decision on the part of the group required unanimity. That, and I was the leader.
Reiwyn crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re just being selfish.”
I widened my eyes at her. “I’m being selfish? If just one of us dies, so too does any chance the rest of us has of getting the tr
easure.” I looked at Uller until he looked back at me. “That means no pardon for you, Reiwyn or me. No paid bounty for Blackfoot. And Antioc, you’re my man—”
“You told me not to call myself that—”
“That means you work for me. And I say we don’t do this.”
He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Reiwyn looked at him, shocked. “You can’t be serious! You’re going to take his side?”
“We took an oath to Roren. That takes precedence over any commitment we might have to the colony. More importantly, I took an oath to Lew. I owe him my life and must do as he wishes.” He looked at me, somewhat crossly. “Even if I do not agree with him.”
I looked at Uller, even though he refused to look at me. “What about you? You really want to live here the rest of your life? Daevas, man, you haven’t even changed out of your apprentice robes. You can’t let go of that life. And why should you? You’re destined for something greater than being apprentice to a hedge wizard . . .”
“Witch!”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not the Hagorium, and he’ll never be able to give you the recognition you deserve. Uller, you’re the smartest person I know. Be reasonable.”
Slowly, he raised his eyes to Reiwyn. “He’s right. I’m not made for this kind of life. I knew coming here was folly the moment I stepped on the Songwillow.”
Reiwyn put her hands on her shapely hips. “What about Zindet?”
“I believe I can convince her to come with us. I’m sure Arn would help, since he has a personal relationship with her and will wish to see her as far from harm’s way as possible. She’ll be safer with us than she would be here when the Scumdogs come.”
Reiwyn’s face twisted up in disgust as she turned to Blackfoot. “What about you? You’re with me, right?”
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