The Drenai dead, stripped of their weapons and armour, were hurled into the fire gullies, and the stench of burning flesh filled the air and stung the eyes.
The evacuation at the south gates became a flood as the city emptied. Soldiers joined in, discarding their weapons and mingling with the crowds. No effort was made to stop them, on Rek’s direct order.
*
In a little house, near the street of Millers, Maerie tried to comfort the small child sobbing in her arms. The noise in the street outside frightened her, as families loaded their possessions on to carts and wagons tethered with oxen or milk cows. It was pandemonium.
Maerie cuddled the child, crooning a lullaby tune and kissing the tight curls on his head.
‘I must go back to the wall,’ said her husband, a tall young man with dark hair and wide, gentle blue eyes. How tired he looked, hollow-eyed and gaunt.
‘Don’t go, Carin,’ she said, as he strapped his sword-belt about his waist.
‘Don’t go? I must.’
‘Let us leave Delnoch. We have friends in Purdol and you could find work there.’
He was not an intuitive man and he missed the note of desperation in her voice, failed to sense the rising panic behind her eyes.
‘Don’t let these fools frighten you, Maerie. Druss is still with us and we will hold Kania. I promise you.’
The sobbing child clutched his mother’s dress, soothed by the gentle strength of’his father’s voice. Too young to understand the words yet he was comforted by the pitch and tone. The noise outside receded from him and he slept on his mother’s shoulder. But Maerie was older and wiser than the child and to her the words were just words.
‘Listen to me, Carin. I want to leave. Today!’
‘I can’t talk now. I must go back. I will see you later. It will be all right.’ Leaning forward he kissed her, then stepped into the chaos of the street.
She looked around her, remembering: the chest by the door a gift from Carin’s parents. The chairs made by her uncle, Damus; fashioned with care like all his work. They had brought the chairs and chest with them two years before.
Good years?
Carin was kind, thoughtful, loving. There was so much goodness to him. Easing the child into his cot, she wandered to the small bedroom, shutting the window against the noise. Soon the Nadir would come. The door would be smashed in and filthy tribesmen would come for her, tearing at her clothing . . .
She shut her eyes.
Druss was still here, he had said.
Stupid Carin! Kind, loving, thoughtful, stupid Carin! Carin the miller.
She had never been truly happy with him, though without this war she might never have realised it. She had been so close to contentment. Then he had joined the defenders, coming home so proudly in that ludicrous breastplate and oversized helm.
Stupid Carin. Kind Carin.
The door opened and she turned to see her friend Delis, her blonde hair covered in a travel shawl and a heavy cloak over her shoulders.
‘Are you coming?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Is Carin coming with you?’
‘No.’
Swiftly she gathered her belongings, pushing them into a canvas bag issued to Carin. Delis carried the bag to the wagon outside while Maerie lifted her son from his cot, wrapping him in a second blanket. Stooping, she pulled open the small chest, pushing aside the linen and pulling clear the small bag of silver which Carin had hidden there.
She didn’t bother to close the door.
*
In the Keep Druss raged at Rek, swearing to kill any deserter he recognised.
‘It’s too late for that,’ said Rek.
‘Damn you, boy!’ muttered Druss. ‘We have fewer than three thousand men. How long do you think we will hold if we allow desertions?’
‘How long if we don’t?’ snapped Rek. ‘We are finished, anyway! Serbitar says Kania can be held for maybe two days, Sumitos perhaps three, Valteri the same and Geddon less. Ten days in all. Ten miserable days!’ The young Earl leaned on the balcony rail above the gates and watched the convoys start south. ‘Look at them, Druss! Farmers, bakers, tradesmen. What right have we to ask them to die? What will it matter to them if we fail? The Nadir will not kill every baker in Drenan – it will just mean a change of masters.’