Shapers of Darkness

Chapter Twenty-one

Dantrielle, Aneira

Tebeo had thought that matters couldn’t get any worse. After the failure of Bausef’s mission to destroy the hurling arms, the bombardment of Castle Dantrielle with the severed heads of his men, and the savage display of the master of arms’s head on a pike before the Solkaran camp, the duke was certain that he must have reached some sort of nadir in his conflict with the royal house. Instead that dreadful night had been but the beginning of a downward spiral into an abyss of horror and misery.

The day after Bausef’s death, the Solkarans resumed their attacks with the fiery boulders. They were joined in the assault a day later by the men of Rassor, who had constructed their own hurling arm. These missiles did only minimal damage to the castle walls, but they were a fearsome sight, burning brilliantly as they soared high in the air and descended toward the fortress, a long plume of dark smoke trailing behind them. Tebeo’s men learned quickly to judge their trajectory and to move to safety before they struck. Still, the besieging armies kept up a withering assault and over time it clearly began to wear on Dantrielle’s soldiers.

For three days the attacks continued. Then, abruptly, they ceased. Yet this did nothing to ease the minds of Dantrielle’s soldiers or people. Rather, it served only to increase the sense of foreboding that hung over the entire city. It took less than a day for all of them to learn that their fears were justified.

As with the lofting of severed heads into the castle, Tebeo had heard tales of attacking armies using hurling arms to throw the rotting carcasses of dead animals into a city or castle, thus spreading disease as well as dread. But he had hoped that Aneira’s regent would refuse to subject his own people to such terrors, even if those people were in rebellion. Once again, he had misjudged the man, seeing in him more compassion than was there.

Numar began with slaughtered sheep, dead at least two or three days. His hurling arms couldn’t be as accurate with the beasts as they had been with the boulders, but they didn’t have to be. They needed only to clear the walls. In the heat of Elined’s turn, with the remains already decaying, the stench was unbearable. Almost as soon as this newest atrocity began, Tebeo ordered his men to douse the carcasses with oil and set them afire, but even after they carried out his orders, the fetor of rot and burning flesh lingered over all of Dantrielle.

The following day, both the Solkarans and the army of Rassor used dead cattle. Not that it mattered what type of animal dropped into the lanes of the city or the castle wards. Tebeo could hardly step onto the walls of his fortress without feeling his stomach heave. Everywhere he looked, small fires burned, sending foul smoke into the air. He hadn’t heard of anyone in his city taking ill because of the animal carcasses, but still his people suffered.

That night, as the soldiers at the hurling arms returned to the flaming stones, interspersing an occasional animal corpse, a party of Solkaran soldiers tried to gain entry to the castle through one of the sally ports. Tebeo still bore a scar on his side from his fight with the last Solkarans to make the attempt. This time, the duke’s men were prepared for the attack and drove the party off, killing more than half of them. But even this victory did little to raise the spirits of Tebeo’s army.

Yet as much as those within the city and castle suffered for the siege, the duke knew that those who lived in his dukedom beyond the protection of his walls endured far worse. Numar might have been intent on winning the favor of Dantrielle’s people, of turning them against their duke, but that wouldn’t stop him from plundering the farms and villages in the Dantrielle countryside for food and water. No doubt his men had quartered themselves in the homes of defenseless farmers as they approached the castle, and who knew what else they had done. Soldiers marching to war had been known to make sport of violating their enemies’ wives and daughters. With all the horrors Numar’s army had visited on them thus far, why should Tebeo expect that these men would be any different? “A war among nobles,” it was often said, “bloodied all.”

Tebeo had yet to name a new master of arms to replace Bausef. Instead he relied on three of the armsmaster’s most trusted captains, and on the eleventh night of the siege, for the first time, two of them raised the prospect of discussing terms of surrender with the regent. The duke and his captains were on the ramparts, watching for the next assault from Numar’s men. Tebeo wasn’t certain how to respond to their suggestion, but the third captain was appalled.

“You don’t really mean that,” he said. “The siege isn’t going well, but to consider surrender so soon. .”

“I’ve never seen the spirit of these men so low. They already feel that we’ve lost. They have since the master of arms died.”

“And,” added the second man, “we’ve inflicted almost no losses on Numar’s army.”

“Our losses haven’t been very high either. We lost the armsmaster’s party, but they’ve had men killed on raids as well. We still outnumber them.”

“For how long? I’ve heard men talk of desertion, and though I don’t think many of them are ready to go that far, it will come to that before too long.”

“What would you hope to gain through surrender?” Tebeo asked.

The third captain stared at him. “My lord-”

The duke raised a hand, silencing him. “You understand that all four of us would be executed, and most likely my sons as well.”

“Yes, my lord,” said the first man, looking away. “Forgive me.”

“I wasn’t trying to silence you, Captain. I really want to know what might be gained. Do you think that the regent would spare the rest of the men?”

“Yes, my lord. He needs soldiers to fight the Eibitharians. He might be so desperate for them that he would even spare the four of us. If you pledge yourself to his cause, you might be able to end all this.”

Tebeo gave a grim smile. “That I don’t believe. You’ve seen what he’s done, the lengths to which he’s gone to break our will. Are these really the actions of a man inclined to such mercy?”

“No, my lord, they’re not,” the third captain said, glaring at his two comrades, torch fire gleaming in his dark eyes. “You can’t surrender, my lord. Not yet. We’re still waiting for Orvinti, Kelt, and the others. Their arrival might very well break this siege. We should at least wait for them.”

“How are our stores?”

Even the third man faltered. “They run low, my lord.”

“How low?”

“They may not last to the end of the next waxing.”

“They won’t,” the first man said, sounding so certain that Tebeo found himself questioning the man’s loyalty.

The duke nodded. “Well, you’ve given me much to consider Since we’re not yet done with the waning, I assume we have at least a half turn’s provisions left.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. For now, we’ll keep rations as they are. I’ve no desire to start a panic. We’ll speak of this again. For now, return to your posts.”

The three men bowed, and the two who advocated surrender moved off, leaving Tebeo alone with the third captain. His name was Gabrys DinTavo. He had come to Dantrielle with Bausef and had long been the armsmaster’s favorite among all his captains. That alone made him Bausef’s most likely successor in the duke’s eyes.

“They’ll say that I argued as I did to curry favor with you,” the man said, watching the other two captains walk off. “They’ll say that I tell you what you want to hear so that you’ll choose me as your next master of arms.”

“Is that true?”

Gabrys turned sharply. “No, my lord!”

“Then why should you care what they say?”

“I don’t suppose I should, my lord.”

“I don’t want to surrender, Captain. But neither do I wish to see all these men massacred.”

“Of course not, my lord.”

“If it comes to that choice, you know what I’ll do.”

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

The duke gazed down at the Solkaran camp, awaiting the next assault. “Bausef thought me too soft to be an effective leader in times of war. I expect you see me much the same way.”

The captain started to reply, but Tebeo shook his head. “It’s all right. Bausef knew me better than I know myself. I tried to prove him wrong that night when Numar first started to use his hurling arms, and I ended up sending him to his death. Since then I’ve vowed to follow my instincts rather than be something I’m not. Thus when it comes to questions of warfare, I have no choice but to rely on your counsel, and that of the others.”

“I understand, my lord.”

“Obviously you don’t think I should surrender. So what would you have me do?”

Before Gabrys could answer, the duke heard a light footfall behind him. Turning, he saw Evanthya step out of the tower stairway. She stopped when she saw Tebeo and the captain.

“Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting, First Minister. Please join us.”

He glanced at the captain, only to find the man glowering at Evanthya. It often seemed, particularly in these times, that warriors viewed the Qirsi with even more distrust than did nobles. Bausef had been an exception-he had never struck the duke as having much feeling for Evanthya, or the other ministers, one way or another. But apparently Gabrys did.

“She’s served me loyally for many years, Captain. I have as much faith in her and her counsel as I do in any soldier who’s ever served me, including the master of arms.”

The man’s mouth twitched, but he nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“Perhaps I should go,” the minister said, her pale skin looking sallow in the glow of the torches and ward fires.

Tebeo shook his head. “There’s no need. In fact I was going to call for you. Two of my captains have suggested that I discuss with the regent terms for our surrender. I-”

“Surrender?” she broke in, incredulous. “That’s nonsense! It’s far too soon to even consider such a thing.” She cast a dark look at Gabrys. “If this is typical of the counsel you’re receiving from your captains, it may be time to promote some of the other men.”

Gabrys grinned, eyeing the minister. “It may be that I’ve misjudged her, my lord.”

“I believe you did. Gabrys agrees with you, First Minister,” Tebeo explained. “I was speaking of two other captains.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Forgive me, Captain. I spoke rashly.”

The man shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive, Minister. It is nonsense to speak of surrender. Had I been one of these other men I would have deserved your contempt and more.”

“I have no intention of surrendering,” Tebeo said to Evanthya. “I was just asking the captain what I should be doing instead.”

“And I’m afraid that I can’t offer much by way of reply, my lord,” Gabrys said. “The truth is, there’s little you can do just now. It’s always seemed to me that a siege is far harder on the defending noble than is any other form of combat. Victory for the besieged comes not from aggressive tactics or battlefield genius. Rather, it comes from simple patience. At most times, it’s best to do nothing at all. I believe many men find it more difficult to wait than to do something, anything, no matter what it might be.”

Tebeo gave a wan smile. “Again, Bausef tried to tell me much the same thing, just before I sent him to attack the hurling arms.” He glanced at the first minister, then looked out toward the Solkarans again. “I believe you tried as well, Evanthya. Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what would happen to Master DarLesta’s raiding party, my lord. Neither did he. He suggested that we respond to the regent’s attacks a certain way, and I agreed. That’s all.”

“That’s a most generous interpretation of what happened, First Minister. I thank you.”

“It’s the truth, my lord. No more or less. And if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I believe it’s time you stopped blaming yourself for the master of arms’s death.”

The duke’s hands were resting on the ramparts, and now he gripped the stone until his knuckles whitened. He said nothing, however. Bausef’s head was still mounted on a pole high above the Solkaran camp, his sightless eyes seeming to stare directly back at the fortress, the flesh on his face blackened, his slack mouth hanging open, as if he were laughing at some dark jest. The man was a warrior. He had served his duke loyally, following orders regardless of whether or not he agreed with them. He deserved a better fate.

“You both want me to do nothing. Yet the other captains spoke of possible desertions if our prospects for victory don’t improve. What do I do to raise the men’s spirits?”

“Nothing,” said the captain. “They’re soldiers. They don’t need coddling and they deserve better than false assurances. Let them do their jobs.”

“Do you agree with that, too?” he asked the minister.

“I’m not certain. Can the other captains be trusted not to sow discontent among the men?”

Tebeo turned at that. “A good question.”

Gabrys cast a disapproving eye at the minister before answering. “The others are fools, my lord. They’re not traitors.”

Evanthya raked a hand through her white hair. “They don’t have to be traitors to stir up trouble. All they need to do is speak openly of surrender, or of how poorly they believe the siege is going. The rest will take care of itself.”

“Can they be trusted to be discreet?” the duke asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

The captain grimaced. “I think I’d best speak with them, just to make certain.”

“Please do, Captain. Sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, my lord.” Gabrys bowed and walked away briskly.

“He seems a good man, don’t you think?”

The first minister nodded. “He does, my lord. Do you intend to make him your new master of arms?”

“I think so. When all of this is over.”

“Why wait?”

Tebeo looked at her. “You think I should do it now, in the midst of all this?”

“You wanted to know what to do for the men. It seems to me that giving them a new commander would go a long way toward demonstrating that you’re not about to surrender. And if your captains are in disagreement over how best to respond to the regent’s attacks, it might help to have them answering to a man who shares your resolve to fight on.”

“You may be right. I had thought to wait a full turn, out of respect for Bausef, but that may not be possible under these circumstances.”

“I believe the master of arms would understand, my lord.”

Tebeo smiled again, intending to thank her. He never got the chance.

Men cried out from beyond the castle walls. At the same time, several of Tebeo’s men called, “Look to the skies!” as they did each time the Solkarans began an assault with the hurling arms. Yet this time, when Tebeo turned his gaze skyward, he didn’t see one of the great fiery boulders or another of the dreaded carcasses. Instead he saw a large cluster of burning arrows blazing across the starlit sky. But it was the direction of their flight that made his heart soar. The arrows weren’t headed for the castle, nor had they been loosed from the Solkaran camp; they flew from the east, arcing upward from the shadowed recesses of the Great Forest. And they were aimed at the center of Numar’s army.

“It must be Kett!” Evanthya said.

The arrows rained down on the Solkarans, bringing shrieks of pain and frantically shouted orders.

“I agree. Get the captain for me! Quickly, First Minister!”

“Yes, my lord!”

She ran to the tower, leaving him to watch a second volley fly from the wood. He hated this war. He despaired at every lost life, knowing that as the Aneiran armies weakened themselves, the Qirsi movement-the true enemy-grew ever stronger. Yet he could not help but rejoice at the suffering he heard from Numar’s men. After all they had done to his people, to his castle, he lusted for vengeance.

“Let them kill the regent,” he whispered, shocked by the sentiment, but unable to banish it from his mind, and unwilling to forswear the words.

More arrows soared into the night sky, and now the Solkarans launched their own assault in response.

Tebeo heard footsteps. Evanthya and Gabrys.

“You see them, Captain?”

“I do, my lord. I agree with the first minister. The attack comes from the east; it must be Kelt.”

“What do we do to help them?”

“My lord, I’m not certain-”

“Surely you don’t think that Kelt’s army can stand alone against the Solkarans. We have to help them in some way, press the advantage they’ve given us.”

“Rassor’s army is still out there as well, my lord. If we send out our men, they could be trapped between the regent’s force and Rassor’s men coming to Numar’s aid.”

“And if we do nothing, Ansis’s men could be destroyed by the combined might of the two houses.”

As if prompted by their discussion, another cry went up, this one from east and south of the castle. Tebeo and the captain exchanged a look before all of them began running along the ramparts to the east wall. By the time they could see Rassor’s camp the duke’s heart was racing, not only with the exertion of getting there, but with elation at what was unfolding before him. Rassor’s men were under attack as well, from the south.

“Noltierre?” Evanthya asked, breathless as well.

“Or Tounstrel. Or perhaps both. Right now I don’t care.”

The minister smiled. “Yes, my lord.”

“What say you now, Captain?”

Gabrys gave a small shrug. “That we needn’t worry any longer about Kett having to fend off both armies. With Rassor and Solkara both engaged, they can’t combine their numbers against either of our allies. Nor can they simply resume their assaults on the castle. We’ve a respite, my lord. We should take advantage of it and do nothing at all.”

More of the flaming barbs flew. Tebeo could hear the ring of steel on steel as the opposing forces met. He had been telling himself repeatedly since the siege began that he was no warrior. Yet he itched to strike at his enemies.

“We’ll have our day, my lord,” the captain said, as if he could see the battle lust in Tebeo’s eyes. “Help has arrived. It’s only a matter of time before the siege is broken. But I believe that to attack tonight, before we have a sense of how many men Kett and Tounstrel have brought us, would be a mistake.”

Bausef’s head leered at him, laughing at his uncertainty.

“Very well, Captain.” It felt like a surrender. “But I want you to begin planning with the other captains. We should be prepared to strike tomorrow, at first light.”

“My lord-”

Tebeo raised a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not saying that we will, but I want to have that choice. I want to be able to give the order and have it carried out within the hour. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The captain left them once more, and the duke turned his attention back to the fighting in the forests surrounding the castle. Already the war cries sounded less strident and those he heard came from a greater distance. He didn’t see any arrows flying, nor did he hear as much sword combat. It almost seemed that his friends had sought to harry the armies of Solkara and Rassor just enough to give them pause, and to give the people of Dantrielle that respite of which Gabrys had spoken. Still, Tebeo couldn’t help but wonder if Ansis and Vistaan, or whoever it was had come to his defense, expected him to do more.

“I should have considered this,” he muttered, thinking back on the time he had spent speaking with his allies prior to the commencement of the siege.

“My lord?”

He had forgotten Evanthya was even there.

“It’s nothing, First Minister.” He glanced at her, forcing a smile, but she was intent on the shadowed woodlands before them. “What is it? Is something troubling you?”

“No, my lord. I’d just like to know who’s out there.”

Suddenly he understood. “You think it might be Brall. Do you sense Fetnalla?”

She shook her head, looking wan and very young. “No, my lord. But I don’t know for certain that I would. Even a Qirsi’s powers don’t run that deep.”

Tebeo shrugged, trying to conceal his disappointment. “Even if that’s not them, they will be here eventually. Brall gave me his word.” And he knows that we can’t prevail without them.

Evanthya said nothing, her pale eyes still fixed on the forest.

“The captain called this a respite,” the duke said. “We should use it as such. Get some sleep, First Minister. If you’re half as weary as I am, you need it.”

“Is that a command, my lord?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And is it one you intend to follow as well?”

Tebeo laughed. “I think I’d best. The duchess will have my head if I don’t.” As soon as the words passed his lips, he winced. After what the Solkarans had done, he would never again feel right using that expression.

Evanthya, though, gave no indication that she had noticed. “Very well, my lord. Until the morning then.”

She walked away, continuing to stare at the trees until she reached the tower stairway. After a few moments more on the ramparts, Tebeo descended the stairs as well, and made his way to the cloister, where Pelgia and their children had been spending the nights since the siege began. His family was already asleep, but Pelgia stirred when he sat beside her on her bed.

“Is everything all right?” she whispered, sounding as if she might still be asleep.

He stroked her dark hair. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

She rolled onto her back and forced her eyes open. “Are you sure?” she asked, more intelligibly this time. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in here in days.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Actually, it seems that Ansis has finally arrived, and at least one of the others.”

Pelgia’s eyes widened and she sat up. “Really?”

“They attacked both camps before retreating back into the forest. I expect the fighting will be worse for the next few days, but we may be able to break the siege before too long.”

She put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Gods be praised.”

“Careful. You’re in Ean’s cloister. It might be dangerous to invoke the other gods here.”

The duchess laughed, still holding him. “I don’t care.” She swiped at her eyes and Tebeo realized that she was crying.

He took her by the shoulders and made her look him in the eye. Her cheeks were damp with fresh tears. “Are you all right?”

She dabbed at the tears with her sleeve and nodded. “I’m fine. Or at least as well as I can be. I just want this to be over.”

“If I could end it this moment, I would,” he said, thinking once more of Bausef and Gabrys, and wondering anew if he had been too quick to defer to the captain’s judgment.

He kissed her gently and made himself smile.

“You look so tired,” she said.

She lay down again, and he beside her, closing his eyes, hoping that sleep would take him quickly. Instead, he remained awake for a long time, well past the ringing of the midnight bells. Every noise from outside the narrow window made him start, as if he expected Numar to renew his attacks at any moment. Eventually he did fall asleep, but awoke repeatedly, only to fall back into a fitful slumber. At last, when he awoke to the first pale grey gleaming of dawn, he rose, kissed Pelgia’s brow, and returned to the walls.

Gabrys was already there-or perhaps he had never slept-speaking with the other captains. They all fell silent as the duke approached, the two who had spoken of surrender lowering their gazes.

“Am I interrupting something?” Tebeo asked.

Gabrys shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. We were discussing the preparations you asked me to make.”

“Good. Report.”

“We’ve created eight parties of forty men each. Sixteen archers, twenty-four swordsmen. We have them training right now. They’ll use the sally ports to leave and enter the castle, of course, and we’ll send them out two parties at a time. That way we’ll keep the men fresh, while striking repeatedly at the armies of Solkara and Rassor.”

“Excellent, Captain.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He faltered, but only briefly. “ should add, my lord, that these men will only be effective if the enemy is already engaged with the forces of Kett and Tounstrel. On their own, they won’t stand a chance.”

“I understand, Captain. Thank you.” He glanced at the other two men. “And thank you as well. I’m grateful.”

They bowed, muttering, “Yes, my lord,” but refusing to meet Tebeo’s gaze.

After a brief, awkward silence, Tebeo nodded once. “Very well.” He turned to go.

“My lord, a word please,” one of the other men said quickly.

“Yes, Captain.”

“We owe you an apology, my lord. We shouldn’t have been so quick to speak of surrender.”

“We shamed ourselves, my lord,” the other captain added. “We’d understand if you demoted us and named others captain in our place.”

The duke shook his head. “I’m not going to do that. As I’ve told Gabrys already, I’m not well suited to commanding armies. I’d be a fool to deny myself the services of men who were trusted and valued by my master of arms.”

Again they bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

“That said,” Tebeo went on, making his choice in that moment, “I have decided to name Captain DinTavo as my new master of arms. I’ll announce this formally in the few days, but for now, I want you to consider him your commander and respond to his orders appropriately.”

The two men nodded, eyeing Gabrys. “Yes, my lord.”

“Congratulations, Commander,” Tebeo said, turning to the captain.

If the man was surprised, he hid it well. He merely knelt before the duke and lowered his head. “You honor me, my lord. I’ll serve Dantrielle to the best of my abilities.”

“Thank you, Gabrys. I know you will. You may rise.”

The man hadn’t been on his feet for a single heartbeat when the familiar cry sounded from the tower guards.

“Look to the skies!”

Before Tebeo could even turn, soldiers at the far end of the castle shouted the same thing.

Looking up, Gabrys’s face blanched. “Demons and fire!”

It wasn’t just boulders this time, though two were hurtling toward the castle, one from each of the camps. There were arrows approaching as well. Hundreds of them.

“Shields!” Gabrys hollered.

More shouts, from the wards this time.

“The gates!” said one of the captains.

The master of arms shook his head. “The sally ports.” He looked at the duke. “My lord-”

“Go, Gabrys. Do whatever you must to protect the castle.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, and ran to the towers, followed closely by the captains.

Tebeo heard cries go up from the camps; it seemed they were under attack as well. In a matter of moments all of Dantrielle had been engulfed in violence, as if a storm had erupted over the castle and city, bringing chaos. Swords and shields clashed, and battle cries rang out, the tumult echoing off the walls. Arrows pelted the castle like rain, and fire descended from the sky, blackening the castle stone and the grass of the wards.

Gabrys and the captains were in the wards by now, shouting orders, with disturbing urgency. Had the Solkarans breached the castle’s defenses? Tebeo should have been down in the wards with them, consulting with his new master of arms, giving the commands himself. He should have been fighting alongside his men, despite his shortcomings as a warrior. But still he lingered on the ramparts, straining to see what was happening in the camps beyond the city walls. He could hear war cries coming from the forest, but he could see little through the trees.

Most of those men he did see wore the red and gold of Solkara or the brown and black of Rassor, but the duke also saw soldiers dressed in the colors of Kett and Tounstrel. So it was Ansis and Vistaan. Which meant, perhaps, that Brall and Bertin the Younger were nearby.

Perhaps Numar understood this as well, and this morning’s attacks were intended as one final, desperate attempt to take Dantrielle by force. Even as the duke formed the thought, however, his hopes flared and turned to ash.

Abruptly, dark smoke was rising from the Great Forest to both the north and the east, turning the sky to a dirty grey and drifting over the castle like an acrid mist.

“Why would they burn the wood?”

Tebeo nearly jumped out of his skin. Evanthya was beside him, though he hadn’t heard her approach.

“First Minister.”

“Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s all right. Have you been here long?”

“No, my lord. I was awakened by the fighting. I thought you’d want me nearby.”

“I would, if I knew what to do. The fact is, I don’t know why they’re burning the forest, unless it’s to keep Ansis and Vistaan at bay while they redouble their efforts to take the castle.”

More arrows fell on the fortress, forcing them to retreat into the nearest tower. Dantrielle’s archers loosed their arrows in return, but already ladders were appearing around the ramparts and Solkaran soldiers were starting to climb. It wouldn’t be long before Tebeo’s men were fighting to maintain control of the castle walls.

Evanthya said something else to him, but Tebeo was lost in thought, trying to puzzle out all that was happening. By setting these fires, Numar forced Dantrielle’s allies to fall back deeper into the wood and away from the castle. But he also risked denying his army and Rassor’s a means of escape should the battle for the castle go poorly for them.

“He must believe that he has no choice.”

“My lord?”

He looked up, realizing belatedly that he had spoken aloud. “I was thinking of Numar. He’d only risk these fires if he thought that the siege was about to be broken. Otherwise it’s simply too dangerous. It may be that the armies of Orvinti and Noltierre are about to join the fight, or he may feel that with the arrival of Tounstrel and Kett, the tide of battle is about to turn against him.”

“But if the fires spread, doesn’t he trap himself?”

“Only if he fails to take Castle Dantrielle. It seems Numar has staked his life on the success of this siege.”

More arrows struck, their tips sparking as they clattered against the stone. An instant later the fortress shook with the impact of yet another boulder from the hurling arms. That Numar would continue to use the hurling arms even as his men scaled the castle walls bespoke a determination that went far beyond desperation. This was no longer about the alliance with Braedon and Dantrielle’s loyalty to the Solkaran Supremacy. Somehow this had become far more. It was a blood feud. That was the only way to explain the severed heads, the carcasses, this attack; all of it. Tebeo had defied him, and Numar had made up his mind to crush the duke and his house, no matter the cost. The color had fled Evanthya’s cheeks; it seemed that she understood all too well what they faced.

“This is just the beginning then,” she said. “He won’t stop until he’s won.”

“Or until he’s dead.” Tebeo drew his sword. “Follow me, First Minister. Before this is over, we’ll need every blade in Dantrielle.”

She nodded, and they bounded down the stairway to the wards. Even before they reached the bottom, Tebeo could hear death cries and the clatter of weapons, clear as bells and impossibly close. Thus, he wasn’t entirely unprepared when they emerged from the stairs to find the baileys teeming with enemy soldiers. Everywhere he looked men were fighting and dying. At the far end of the ward, Gabrys stood with his back to the stone wall, fighting off two soldiers wearing Rassor’s colors.

The duke glanced at Evanthya. “Suggestions?”

The first minister surveyed the scene before them, her jaw set. Then she drew her short blade. “There’s nothing to do but fight.”

I’m no warrior, he wanted to say. I never have been. Yet looking at Evanthya, her white hair hanging to her shoulders, her face as pallid as death, her slender hands gripping her sword, he knew that she wasn’t either. Most of the men before them were twice her size. Just as most of them were half his age.

He readied his weapon, and, as an afterthought, pulled his dagger free as well. “Orlagh guide your blade, First Minister.”

“And yours, my lord.”

“Stay close. Keep your back to mine.”

She nodded. And together they waded into the battle.