sounds of shouted commands and even occasional clashes of weapons from
nearby buildings announced that at least some of the rebels were beginning,
however faintly, to see the light. Tentatively, warily, the torch-bearing
mob began to converge on the pristinely white Elene castle, where the
gaily-coloured silk buntings shivered tremulously in the night breeze and
the lantern and candle-lit barges bobbed sedately in the moat. ‘Hello, the
castle!’ a ‘bull-voiced fellow in the front rank roared in execrable
Elenic. ‘Lower your drawbridge, or we’ll storm your walls!’ :Would you
please reply to that, Bevier?’ Sparhawk called to his Cyrinic friend.
Bevier grinned and carefully shifted one of his catapults. He sighted
carefully, elevated his line of sight so that the catapult was pointed
almost straight up, and then he applied the torch to the mixture of pitch
and naphtha in the spoon-like receptacle at the end of the atapult-arm. The
mixture took fire immediately. ‘I command you to lower your drawbridge!’
the unshaven knave out beyond the moat bellowed arrogantly. Bevier cut the
retaining rope on the catapult-arm. The blob of dripping fire sizzled as it
shot almost straight up into the air, then it slowed and seemed to hang
motionless for a moment. Then it fell. The ruffian who had been demanding
admittance gaped at Bevier’s reply as it majestically rose into the night
sky and then fell directly upon him like a comet. He vanished as he was
engulfed in fire. ‘Good shot!’ Sparhawk called his compliment. ‘Not bad,’
Bevier replied modestly. ‘It was sort of tricky, because he was so close.’
‘I noticed that.’ Emperor Sarabian had gone very pale, and he was visibly
shaken. ‘Did you have to do that, Sparhawk?’ He demanded in a choked voice
as the now-frightened mob
fled back across the lawns to positions that may or may not have been out
of Sir Bevier’s range. ‘Yes, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk replied calmly. ‘We’re
playing for time here. The beL that started to ring an hour or so ago was a
sort of General signal. Caalador’s cutthroats took the ring-leaders into
custody when it rang, Ehlana moved the party-goers inside the castle, and
the Atan legions outside the city started to march as soon as they heard
it. That loud-mouth who’s presently on fire at the edge of the moat is a
graphic demonstration of just how truly unpleasant things are going to get
if the mob decides to insist on being admitted. It’s going to take some
serious encouragement to persuade them to approach us again.’
‘I thought you said you could hold them off.’
‘We can, but why risk lives if you don’t have to? You’ll note that there
was no cheering or shouts when Bevier shot his catapult. Those people out
there are staring at an absolutely silent, apparently unmanned castle that
almost negligently obliterates offensive people. That’s a terrifying sort
of thing to contemplate. This is the part of the siege that frequently
lasts for several years.’ Sparhawk looked down the parapet. ‘I think it’s
time for us to move inside that turrret, your Majesties,’ he suggested. we
can’t be positive that Khalad disabled all the crossbows – or that somebody
in the mob hasn’t repaired a few. I’d have a great deal of trouble
explaining why I was careless enough to let one of you get killed. We can
see what’s going on from the turret, and I’ll feel much better if you’ve
both got nice thick stone walls around you.’
‘Shouldn’t we rupture those barges now, dear?’ Ehlana asked him. ‘Not just
yet. We’ve got the potential for inflicting a real disaster on the
besiegers there. Let’s not waste it.’
Some few of the crossbows in the hands of the mob functioned properly, but
not very many. There seemed to be a great deal of swearing about that. A
serious attempt to re-open the gates of the compound fell apart when the
Peloi, their sabres flashing and their shrill, ululating war cries echoing
back from the walls of nearby opalescent palaces charged across the’
neatly-clipped lawns to savage the crowd clustered around the gate. Then,
because once the Peloi have been unleashed they are very hard to rein in
again, the tribesmen from the marches of eastern Pelosia sliced back and
forth through the huddled mass cowering on the grass. The palace guards who
had joined the mob made some slight effort to respond, but the Peloi
horsemen gleefully rode them down. Sephrenia and Vanion entered the turret.
The small Styrik woman’s white gown gleamed in the shaft of moonlight that
streamed in through the door. ‘What are you thinking of, Sparhawk?’ she
demanded angrily. ‘This isn’t a safe place for Ehlana and Sarabian.’
‘I think it’s as safe as I can manage, little mother. Ehlana, what would
you say if I told you that you had to go inside?’
‘i’d say no, Sparhawk. I’d crawl out of my skin if you locked me up in
some safe room where I couldn’t see what’s going on.’
‘I sort of thought you might feel that way. And you, Emperor Sarabian?’
‘Your wife just nailed my feet to the floor, Sparhawk. How could I possibly
run off and hide while she’s standing up here on the wall like the
figurehead on a warship?’ The emperor looked at Sephrenia. ‘is this insane
foolhardiness a racial characteristic of these barbarians?’ he asked her.
She sighed. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the things they’re capable of,
Sarabian,’ she replied, throwing a quick smile at Vanion.
‘At least someone in that mob’s still thinking coherently, Sparhawk,’
Vanion said to his friend. ‘He’s just realised that there are all sorts of
unpleasant implications in the fact that they can’t get in here or out of
the compound. He’s out there trying to whip them up by telling them that
they’re doomed unless they take this castle.’
‘I hope he’s Also telling them that they’re doomed if they try,’ Sparhawk
replied. ‘i’d imagine that he’s glossing over that part. I had some
misgivings about you when you were a novice, my friend. You and Kalten
seemed like a couple of wild colts, but now that you’ve settled down,
you’re really quite good. Your strategy here has been brilliant, you know.
You actually haven’t embarrassed me too much this time.’
‘Thanks, Vanion,’ Sparhawk said dryly ‘No charge.’ The rebels approached
the moat tentatively, their Faces filled with apprehension and their eyes
fixed on the night sky, desperately searching for that first flicker of
fire which would announce that Sir Bevier was sending them greetings. The
chance passage of a shootingstar across the velvet throat of night elicited
screams of fright, followed by a vast nervous laugh. The gleaming,
brightly-lit castle, however, remained silent. No soldiers lined the
battlements. No globs of liquid fire sprang into the night sky from within
those nacreous walls. The defenders crouched silently behind the
battlements and waited. ‘Good,’ Vanion muttered after a quick glance out of
one of the embrasures in the turret. ‘Someone saw the potential of those
barges. They’ve clapped together some scaling ladders.’
‘We have to rupture those barges now, Vanion!’ Ehlana exclaimed.urgently.
‘You didn’t tell her?’ Vanion asked Sparhawk. ‘No. The concept might have
been difficult for her to accept.’
‘You’d better take her back inside the castle then, my friend. What’s
going to happen next is likely to upset her a great deal.’
‘Will you two stop talking about me as if I weren’t even here?’ Ehlana
burst out in exasperation. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘You’d better tell her,’ Vanion said bleakly. ‘We can start that fire at
any time, Ehlana,’ Sparhawk said as gently as he could. ‘in a situation
like this, fire’s a weapon. It’s not tactically practical to waste it by
setting it off before your enemies are around to receive its ‘benefits. ‘
She stared at him, the blood draining from her face. This wasn’t what I’d
planned, Sparhawk!’ she said vehemently. ‘The fire’s supposed to keep them
away from the moat. I didn’t want you to burn them alive with it.’
‘i’m sorry, Ehlana. It’s a military decision. A weapon’s useless unless
you demonstrate your willingness to employ it. I know it’s hard to accept,
but if we take your plan to its ultimate application, it may save lives in
the long run. We’re outnumbered here in Tamuli, and if we don’t establish a
certain reputation for ruthlessness, we’ll be over-run the next time
there’s a confrontation. ‘You’re a monster!’
‘No, dear. I’m a soldier.’ She suddenly started to cry. ‘Would you take
her inside now, little mother?’ Sparhawk asked Sephrenia. ‘I think we’d all
rather she didn’t see this.’ Sephrenia nodded and took the weeping queen to
the stairway leading down from the turret. ‘You might want to go too, your
Majesty,’ Vanion suggested to Sarabian. ‘Sparhawk and I are more or less
accustomed to this sort of unpleasantness. You don’t have to watch,
though.’
‘No, I’ll stay, Lord Vanion,’ Sarabian said firmly. ‘That’s up to you, your