There it was again, that mop of blossom-colored hair poking out from under a gray army cap. She was an officer. The last time Garth had seen her had been in a bizarre fever dream where Venera was whispering his name urgently. This woman had been there, among glass cases, but she was naked and laved with crimson from head to toe. Venera had spoken her name then, but Garth didn’t remember it.
The sound of firing suddenly intensified. Garth craned his neck to look in the direction of the roundhouse. Sacrus’s forces were moving out to engage the council troops on the inside of Liris. Behind him, though, he could see an equally large contingent of Sacrus’s soldiers circling back around the building—headed toward the edge of the world.
Garth had some inkling of what the council army was doing. They were pressing up against the no-man’s land of thorn and tumbled masonry, a scant hundred yards from the walls of Liris. From there they could turn left or right—inward or toward world’s edge—at a moment’s notice. Sacrus would have to split their forces into two to guard against both possibilities.
It was an intelligent plan and for a moment Garth’s spirits lifted. Then he saw more of Sacrus’s men abandon their positions below him. They were leaving a noisy and smoke-wreathed band of some two hundred men to defend the inward side while the rest of their forces marched behind Liris and out of sight from the roundhouse. They clearly expected the council army to split right and try to relieve Guinevera and Anseratte at the hurricane-wracked world’s edge. But how did they know what the council was planning?
He cursed and jumped down off the ancient credenza he’d been perched upon. The corridors were stuffed with armed people, old men and women mostly (strange how he thought of other people his age as old, but not himself). He elbowed his way through them carelessly. “Where the hell is Moss?”
Someone pointed down a narrow, packed hallway. Liris’s new botanist was deep in discussion with the only one of Bryce’s men left inside the walls. “I need semaphore flags,” Garth shouted over two shoulders. “We have to warn the troops what Sacrus is doing!”
To his credit, Moss didn’t even blink. He raised a hand, pointed to one man, then held up two fingers. “Forward stores,” he said. He pointed to another man and then at Garth. “Go with.”
It took precious minutes for Garth and his new helper to locate the flags. Then they had to fight their way to the stairs. They emerged outside to the mind-numbing roar of the winds and an almost continuous sound of gunfire. Ducking low, they ran for the edge of the roof.
“They expect you to act as if you don’t know about the key,” Venera was explaining for the tenth time. She was surrounded by nervous officers and staffers; the gray-mustachioed army commander stood with his arms crossed, glowering as she drew on the ground with a stick. “If you don’t know about it, then the obvious strategic goal is to relieve Guinevera’s force. Jacoby Sarto has told them that we are going to do that. This frees Sacrus to take Liris, their real objective.”
The commander nodded reluctantly. A bullet whined past somewhere too near for comfort. They stood behind a screen of brush on the edge of no-man’s land. An arc of soldiers surrounded them, far too few for Venera’s taste. This force would hardly qualify as a company in Chaison’s army. Yet Sacrus didn’t have much more.
“So,” she continued. “We feint right, then strike left. I humbly suggest that we start with sustained fire into Sacrus’s position on the edge side of no-man’s land.”
There was some talk among the officers—far too much of it to suit her—then the commander said, “It’s too risky. And I remain skeptical about your story.”
He didn’t believe the key was real. Venera was tempted to take it out and show it to him, but that might backfire. Who could believe a whole war would be fought over an ivory wand?
While she and the commander were scowling at one another Bryce ran up, puffing. “They’re here!” Venera turned to look where he pointed.
She turned back, grinning broadly. “Commander, would you be more amenable to my plan if you had a secret weapon to help with it?”
The commander and all the officers fell silent as they saw what was approaching. Slowly, the commander began to smile.
“Damn it, they’re ignoring us!” Garth ducked as another volley of fire from below raked the edge of the roof. His assistant slumped onto the flagstones next to him, shaking his head.
“Maybe they don’t see us,” he said.
“Oh, they see us all right. They just don’t believe us.” Garth risked a glance over the stones. The council army was pressing hard against the barricades hastily thrown up by Sacrus on the inward side of Liris. The bulk of their army was hovering on the far side of the building, ready to speed toward the edge as soon as they were given the word.
Another ladder thunked against the wall. That made four in as many seconds. Garth pushed his companion. “Back to the stairs!” Sacrus was moving to take Liris. There was nothing anyone could do to stop them.
Garth stood up to run, and hesitated for just a second. He couldn’t stop himself from looking down through the gunfire and smoke to find his daughter. The ground around Liris was boiling with men; he couldn’t see her.
Something hit him hard and he spun around, toppling to the flagstones. A bullet—was he dead? Garth clawed at his shoulder, saw a bright scar on the metal of his armor but no hole.
“Sir!” Damn him, his helper was running back to save him. “No, get to the stairs dammit!” Garth yelled, but it was too late. A dozen bullets hit the man and some of those went right through his armor. He fell and slid forward, and died at Garth’s feet.
Garth had never even learned his name.
Up they came now, soldier after soldier hopping onto Liris’s roof. One loped forward, ignoring rifle fire from the stairs, and pitched a firebomb into the central courtyard. The cherry trees were protected under a siege roof, but a few more of those and they would burn.
Swearing, he tried to stand. Something hit him again and he fell back. This time when he looked up, it was to see the black globe of a Sacrus helmet hovering above him, and a rifle barrel inches from his face.
Garth fell back, groaning, and closed his eyes.
“We’ve lost our momentum,” said Bryce. He and Venera were crouched behind an upthrust block of brickwork from some ancient, abandoned building. A hundred feet ahead of them, men were dying in a futile attack on the Sacrus barricade.
She nodded, but the council officers were already ordering a retreat. For a few seconds she watched the soldiers scampering back under relentless fire. Then she cocked an eyebrow at Bryce, and grinned.
“We’ve lost our momentum? When did you decide this was your fight?”
“People are dying,” he said angrily. “Anyway, if what you say is true, there’s far more at stake than any of us knew.” She shrugged and glanced again at the retreat, but then noticed he was staring at her.
“What?”
“Who are you, really? Surely not Amandera Thrace-Guiles?”
Venera laughed. He hadn’t been there for her moment of humiliation at the feet of Guinevera—had, in fact, been flying through the air over brambles and scrub just about then.
She stuck out her hand for him to shake. “Venera Fanning. Pleased to meet you.”
He shook it, a puzzled expression on his face, but then a new commotion distracted him. “Look! Your friends…”
Through the drifting smoke, she could see a dozen spindly ladders wobbling against the building’s walls. Men were swarming up them and there was fighting on the roof. In seconds she could lose the people who had become most precious to her. “Come on!”