Bartsai and ten of his men were working on the parapet of the eastern wall, where a section of ramparts had given way. Floorboards had been ripped from nearby buildings to be used in the repairs.
Quing-chin climbed the ramparts and gave a Gothir salute. ‘Make that the last Gothir tribute to me,’ said Talisman coldly. ‘It does not amuse the tribesmen.’
‘My apologies, brother.’
Talisman smiled. ‘Do not apologize, my friend. I did not mean to scold. You did well last night. A shame they saved their water wagons.’
‘Not all of them, Talisman. They will be on short rations.’
‘How did they react when disaster struck?’
‘With great efficiency. They are well led,’ said Quing-chin. ‘We almost killed Gargan. I was watching from a rise and I saw him stumbling around in the flames. A young officer rode in and rescued him – it was the same man who saved the wagons.’
Talisman leaned on the parapet staring out over the valley. ‘Much as I hate Gargan, it must be said that he is a skilled general. He has his own chapter in Gothir history books. He was twenty-two when he led the charge that ended the civil war, the youngest general in Gothir history.’
‘He’s not twenty-two now,’ said Quing-chin. ‘He is old and fat.’
‘Courage remains, even when youth has faded,’ Talisman pointed out.
‘There is great venom in the man,’ said Quing-chin, removing his fur-fringed helm and running his fingers through his sweat-streaked hair. ‘An abiding malice that burns him. I think it will rage like last night’s blaze when he learns that you are the leader here.’
‘With luck you will be proved correct. An angry man rarely makes rational decisions.’
Quing-chin moved to the ramparts and sat down. ‘Have you thought about who will lead the fighters at the water-hole ?’
‘Yes. Kzun.’
Quing-chin looked doubtful. ‘I thought you said the Curved Horn were to guard it?’
‘They will. Under Kzun.’
‘A Lone Wolf? Will they stand for it?’
‘We will see,’ said Talisman. ‘Get your men to gather heavy rocks and stones, and place them around the battlements. We should have some missiles to hurl down upon the infantry as they try to scale the walls.’
Without another word Talisman walked away, climbing down from the wall and approaching Bartsai, who had stopped repair work while his people rested and drank from the well. ‘You have chosen your fighters?’ he asked.
‘I have. Twenty as you ordered. We could make it more now. Another thirty-two warriors have come in.’
‘If the well is as you described it, then twenty should be enough. Have the men come to me here. I wish to speak with them.’
Bartsai moved away and Talisman walked to where Kzun and his men were putting the last touches to the fighting platform. The top had been covered with wooden planks from the old tower. Talisman climbed to it and gazed through the jagged crack. ‘It is good,’ he said, as Kzun moved alongside.
‘It will do,’ said Kzun. ‘Is this where you wish my men and me to fight?’
‘Your men, yes. But not you. Appoint a leader for them. I want you to take command of the Curved Horn at the well.’
‘What?’ Kzun reddened. ‘You want me to lead those frightened monkeys?’
‘If the Gothir take the well, they will take the Shrine,’ said Talisman, his voice low and even. ‘It is the very heart of our defence. Without water the enemy will be forced to all-out attack; if we can hold them for long enough they will start to die. With water they have a dozen options; they could even starve us out.’
‘You don’t have to convince me of the importance, Talisman,’ snapped Kzun. ‘But why should I lead Curved Horn? They are soft. My own men could hold the well. I can trust them to fight to the death.’
‘You will lead the Curved Horn,’ said Talisman. ‘You are a fighting man and they will follow you.’
Kzun blinked. ‘Just tell me why. Why me?’
‘Because I order it,’ said Talisman.
‘No, there is more. What is it you are hiding from me ?’