“The beam that our colleague proposes using,” cut in Rectinus Falco, holding himself erect with his chin and chest outthrust in a posture as much theatrical as rhetorical, “is one of the few decent timbers remaining to us. The bronze that he would have us use —”
“Is available,” said Vibulenus, and no one in the courtyard, even the speaker, could doubt the power of his voice. “And timber will be in much shorter supply the third time we build the siege works, a certain result if we proceed in the current manner for the next week or even days. Therefore, if your worship will —”
“You are —” interrupted Falco, twisted by anger from the Commander to speak directly toward his rival instead.
“If your worship will give the order,” Vibulenus continued in a snarl as piercing as the sound of the Commander’s laser cycling, “I will carry out the necessary arrangements so that the fortress can be stormed after the wall is breached.”
“How droll,” said the Commander, sipping again from a goblet that shone as if studded with a thousand jewels. The liquid within was visible, rolling sluggishly; its color changing from blue through amber, depending on how the light struck it. “This isn’t really covered, but I don’t see how the Federation could object to it.”
Ballistas loosed against the distant stronghold. The sound of their discharge was barely a whisper on the breeze, but the sharper crack of balls demolishing themselves on stone was clearly audible.
“All right, Tribune Gaius Vibulenus Caper,” the Commander said, stilling with his words the remark that Falco, still standing, was about to interject. “The estimates of success through starving out the garrison have been revised downward again, and at this particular stage in my career I cannot afford. . . .”
His voice paused. He might have gone on, but Falco, driven by anger to a courage equal to anything his rival had displayed on the battlefield, burst out, “Your worship, there is a cost which our colleague is — passing over. I will not say —” but with venom in his tone he said it “—choosing to obfuscate.” He glanced from the Commander to Vibulenus.
“Go on,” said both together, the blue-garbed Commander interested; the taller tribune puzzled. If there were a point Vibulenus had missed in the triumphant structuring of his notion, then he deserved whatever punishment he received for wasting the Commander’s time on a — nearly — disrespectfully determined presentation.
“He is neglecting the assault on the walls,” Falco continued smoothly. “‘Under cover of my new device,’ says our friend, ‘so new indeed that even you cannot imagine it, your worship —” Falco smirked.
The goblet which the Commander had been swiveling gently, froze although the fluid continued its slow motion within.
Falco was terrified. He of all the Romans was most conscious of the blue figure’s power over them and most concerned that the Commander was truly inscrutable, his face and gestures not those of a man — though they might be. Falco was too experienced to intellectually believe his rival was cool and collected, but his gut accepted Vibulenus’ appearance as his reality — tall, calm, a hero in battle while Falco could claim only the Commander’s ear in a place of safety.
Well then, this was his field. “My colleague proposes,” continued the shorter tribune as his mind cut away the rhetorical flowers which he suddenly feared would bring his end, “that a party attack the walls with picks, drawing the attention of the defenders on the tower who will then be dispatched by his wonderful device. It is patent to all of us who were near the walls during the previous attack —” Falco had been well back, as always, but the chaos forebade certainty; and in any case, stating a “fact” loudly was most of the way to being believed. “—that this attention, if drawn, means the immolation of the attacking force.”
The speaker paused. All around the circle, Romans frowned and pursed their lips as they considered the words and agreed with them. Neither the officers nor centurions who had cut their way to command through heroism were willing to damn the plan at once for its danger, but. . . .