some time. Plus a hundred or so agents provocateurs from outside.”
“In something like this, those who aren’t trained soldiers we can probably discount, don’t you think?”
Ian nodded.
“How many of the actual soldiers’ll have had any actual combat experience?” I asked.
“Combat experience in this part of Ceta,” Ian said, “means having been involved in a border clash or two with the armed forces of the surrounding principalities. Maybe one in ten of the line soldiers has had that. On the other hand, every male, particularly in Nahar, has dreamed of a dramatic moment like this.”
“So they’ll all come on hard with the first attack,” I said.
“That’s as I see it,” said Ian, “and Kensie agrees. I’m glad to hear it’s your thought, too. Everyone out there will attack in that first charge, not merely determined to do well, but dreaming of outdoing everyone else around him. If we can throw them back even once, some of them won’t come again. And that’s the way it ought to go. They won’t lose heart as a group. Just each setback will take the heart out of some, and we’ll work them down to the hard core that’s serious about being willing to die if only they can get over the walls and reach us.”
“Yes,” I said, “and how many of those do you think there are?”
“That’s the problem,” said Ian, calmly. “At the very least, there’s going to be one in fifty we’ll have to kill to stop. Even if half of them are already out by the time we get down to it, that’s sixty of them left; and we’ve got to figure by that time we’ll have taken at least thirty percent casualties ourselves—and that’s an optimistic figure, considering the fact that these bandsmen are next thing to noncombatants. Man to man, on the kind of hardcore attackers that are going
to be making it over the walls, the bandsmen that’re left will be lucky to take care of an equal number of attackers. Padma, of course, doesn’t exist in our defensive table of personnel. That leaves you, me, Kensie, Michael, and Amanda to handle about thirty bodies. Have you been keeping yourself in condition?”
I grinned.
“That’s good,” said Ian. “I forgot to figure that scar-face of yours. Be sure to smile like that when they come at you. It ought to slow them down for a couple of seconds at least, and we’ll need all the help we can get.”
I laughed.
“If Michael doesn’t want you, how about working with Kensie for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Fine,” I said.
I got up and went out. Kensie looked up from his printouts when he saw me again.
“Find him?” he asked.
“Yes. He suggested you could use me.”
“I can. Join me.”
We worked together the rest of the afternoon. The so-called large scale terrain maps the Naharese army library provided were hardly more useful than tourist brochures from our point of view. What Kensie needed to know was what the ground was like meter by meter from the front walls on out over perhaps a couple of hundred meters of plain beyond where the slope of the mountain met it. Given that knowledge, it would be possible to make reasonable estimates as to how a foot attack might develop, how many attackers we might be likely to have on a front, and on which parts of that front, because of vegetation, or the footing or the terrain, attackers might be expected to fall behind their fellows during a rush.
The Naharese terrain maps had never been made with such a detailed information of the ground in mind. To correct them, Kensie had spent most of the day before taking telescopic pictures of three-meter square segments of the ground, using the watch cameras built into the ramparts of the first wall. With these pictures as reference, we now proceeded to make notes on blown-up versions of the clumsy Naharese maps.
It took us the rest of the afternoon; but by the time we were finished, we had a fairly good working knowledge of the ground before the Gebel Nahar, from the
viewpoint not only of someone storming up it, but from the viewpoint of a defender who might have to cover it on his belly—as Kensie and I would be doing that night. We knocked off, with the job done, finally, about the dinner hour.
In spite of having finished at a reasonable time, we found no one else at dinner but Ian. Michael was still up to his ears in the effort of teaching his bandsmen to be fighting troops; and Amanda was still with Padma, hard at the search for a solution, even at this eleventh hour.
“You’d both probably better get an hour of sleep, if you can spare the time,” Ian said to me. “We might be able to pick up an hour or two more of rest just before dawn, but there’s no counting on it.”
“Yes,” said Kensie. “And you might grab some sleep, yourself.”
Brother looked at brother. They knew each other so well, they were so complete in their understanding of each other, that neither one bothered to discuss the matter further. It had been discussed silently in that one momentary exchange of glances, and now they were concerned with other things.
As it turned out, I was able to get a full three hours of sleep. It was just after ten o’clock, local time when Kensie and I came out from Gebel Nahar. On the reasonable assumption that the regiments would have watchers keeping an eye on our walls—that same watch Kensie and I were to silence so that the bandsmen could mine the slope—I had guessed we would be doing something like going out over a dark portion of the front wall on a rope. Instead, Michael was to lead us, properly outfitted and with our face
and hands blackened, through some cellarways and along a passage that would let us out into the night a good fifty meters beyond the wall.
“How did you know about this?” I asked, as he took us along the passage, “If there’s more secret ways like this, and the regiments know about them—“
“There aren’t and they don’t,” said Michael. We were going almost single file down the concrete-walled tunnel as he answered me. “This is a private escape hatch that’s the secret of the Conde, and no one else. His father had it built thirty-eight local years ago. Our Conde called me in to tell me about it when he heard the regiments had deserted.”
I nodded. There was plainly a sympathy and a friendship between Michael and the old Conde that I had not had time to ask about. Perhaps it had come of their each being the only one of their kind in Gebel Nahar.
We reached the end of the tunnel and the foot of a short wooden ladder leading up to a circular metal hatch. Michael turned out the light in the tunnel and we were suddenly in absolute darkness. I heard him cranking something well-oiled, for it turned almost noiselessly. Above us the circular hatch lifted slowly to show starlit sky.
“Go ahead,” Michael whispered. “Keep your heads
down. The bushes that hide this spot have thorns at the end of their leaves.”
We went up; I led, as being the more expendable of the two of us. The thorns did not stab me, although I heard them scratch against the stiff fabric of the black combat overalls I was wearing, as I pushed my way through the bushes, keeping level to the ground. I heard Kensie come up behind me and the faint sound of the hatch being closed behind us. Michael was due to open it again in two hours and fourteen minutes.
Kensie touched my shoulder. I looked and saw his hand held up, to silhouette itself against the stars. He made the hand signal for move out, touched me again lightly on the shoulder and disappeared. I turned away and began to move off in the opposite direction, staying close to the ground.
I had forgotten what a sweep like this was like. As with all our people, I had been raised with the idea of being always in effective physical condition. Of course, in itself, this is almost a universal idea nowadays. Most cultures emphasize keeping the physical vehicle in shape so as to be able to deliver the mental skills wherever the market may require them. But, because in our case the conditions of our work are so physically demanding, we have probably placed more emphasis on it. It has become an idea which begins in the cradle and becomes almost an ingrained reflex, like washing or brushing teeth.
This may be one of the reasons we have so many people living to advanced old age; apart from those naturally young for their years like the individuals in Amanda’s family. Certainly, I think, it is one of the reasons why we tend to be active into extreme old age,