construction, cobbled together with wood from the market pens nearby, logs from
half-drowned woods upriver, and anything else they could carry away.
Already water was lapping at the bank. There was no way to protect the low
ground below the bridge, but if they could build a dyke northward from the
bridge to the end of the old city wall, they might be able to save the middle
part of town.
As others took the weight of the timber Lalo straightened, rubbing his back.
Even Wedemir was panting, and he was young. Lalo wondered how much longer he
could keep this up-it had been far too long since he had asked much of his
muscles, and he feared they were betraying him now.
He looked numbly at the muddy serpent that was the river, heaving ominously as
it digested what it had swallowed already and considered what next to devour. He
was surprised it was not flowing faster, then realized that a south wind was
holding back the waters and forcing them to spread rather than flowing
harmlessly into the sea.
Witch-work, he thought grimly, and wondered how Randal was doing. It would take
more than one Tysian mage to stop this. His shoulders sagged. He would have
welcomed even a Rankan Storm-God’s intervention now.
“Father-look at the bridge!” Wedemir shook his arm, shouting over the roar of
the wind.
Lalo turned. He heard the moaning of overstressed timbers and saw the structure
tremble as it was struck by an especially heavy surge. The waters were almost
over the roadway now. Wedemir tugged at him again.
“There’s somebody on it-someone’s trying to get across!”