His thoughts, of course, were no secret to his would-be victims. Center did not deign to comment. And all Raj had to say, when the sight of the enormous city finally loomed before them, was: A good job, lad. Lost only two of the guns along the way, got here in plenty of time—and even managed not to murder anyone, corporeal or otherwise.
* * *
That praise was modest compared to the accolades which Demansk heaped upon him. Adrian lost count of the number of times his father-in-law used the word “brilliant” to refer to Adrian’s exploit at his staff meetings. “Daring” and “dashing” were tossed around freely also. Not that Adrian could, for the life of him, understand how even an Emerald—much less a stodgy Confederate—could possibly apply such terms to an enterprise that had consisted, for the most part, of sheer drudgery.
But . . . Adrian didn’t really need Raj and Center’s commentary to explain it to him. Sieges are a miserable business, under the best of circumstances—which a siege undertaken in winter most certainly was not. Even with their confidence in eventual victory, the morale of Demansk’s own soldiers was none too high at the moment. Having Adrian finally show up with the great guns—impressive, they were, to the besiegers who gawked at them as they were hauled into position—gave an enormous boost to their spirits.
And, of course, correspondingly depressed the spirits of the defenders. By now, the arquebusiers whom Adrian and Trae had trained and Demansk had brought with him had inflicted misery enough on the soldiers manning the walls of Vanbert. To see what even unsophisticates such as themselves could immediately recognize as giant versions of arquebuses, training their huge muzzles toward them . . .
Finally, Adrian realized, his father-in-law was—as always—seeing to it that the “second string” to his bow was kept taut and ready. Now, as before and in the long years to come, Verice Demansk would be leaning heavily on his family. And if he was about to lose a son, he was reminding everyone that he had gained a son-in-law capable of replacing him. Reminding himself, perhaps, more than anyone.
* * *
“Let’s do it,” Demansk ordered. His face was drawn and tight, looking like a mask in the lamplight of the command bunker, but showed no emotion otherwise. “Send in the propaganda teams and the spies tonight, Forent. By now, that wall is like a sieve. For small groups of men, anyway.”
Nappur nodded. Adrian was a bit surprised that the giant seemed so placid at the prospect of trying to infiltrate hundreds of men into a city which was supposedly, after all, “under siege.” But Raj enlightened him immediately.
Forget the imagery, lad. What’s the axiom of your philosopher—can’t remember his name at the moment—about not mistaking the portrait for the man? Same’s true with a siege. Precious few sieges are really all that tight, especially with a city as enormous as Vanbert. Keep out massed assaults, yes. Keep out spies, deserters—both ways—traders, hell, even housewives looking for husbands and vice versa—not a chance.
Demansk turned to Adrian next. “We’ll give the proclamation two days to eat away at Albrecht’s troops. Morning of the third, I’ll want to start the barrage. Can you manage it?”
On that subject, Adrian had no questions at all. “Yes, easily. I could start by tomorrow night, if you wanted.”
Demansk shook his head. “No, the proclamation gives the troops two full days to decide, and I’ll stick to it. Whatever I might gain in the way of a tactical surprise wouldn’t be worth the political damage. ‘Verice Demansk is good for his word.’ That’s gotten us this far, it’ll take us the rest of the way.”
* * *
And so it proved. To Adrian’s immense disgust—combined with relief, admittedly—the siege guns never went into action at all. By noon of the second day, mutinies began erupting among Albrecht’s troops. By midafternoon, half the garrison of Vanbert was in full revolt. By late afternoon, the revolt was completely out of control. The gates of the city were being thrown open from within. Civilians began pouring out to plead for mercy and soldiers began pouring out to make a formal surrender—before, still carrying their weapons as Demansk had promised them, they began their own long march back to the eastern provinces from which they came.