The two artillerists, both gray haired but not stooped, walked before the column and directed the men in placing the trebuchets. Several Scepters and Helms moved to assist; others cleared out of the way.
With the weapons in rough position, two younger men in service to the artillerists-apprentices, Tamlin assumed-climbed the gatehouse stairs to the wall, eyed the terrain, the likely approach for Saerloon's forces, and shouted down directions and distances to the other two artillerists. Those two, in turn, issued instructions to Rorsin and his men, who maneuvered the trebuchets into final position, removed stones from the counterweights to adjust for range, slowly cranked the throwing arm back, and locked them down.
Scepters unloaded the barrels of alchemical fire and placed them near the lowered slings. The apprentices remained in position on the walls as spotters, while the artillerists on the ground made final inspections and took station. They nodded up at Tamlin. Tamlin nodded back.
When the city's war wizards arrived-a collection of men and women ranging in age from twenty winters to forty-Tamlin dispersed them among the men. Tamlin did not want them massed, lest they all be killed at a stroke.
Within the hour the Shadovar priests appeared. Six of them stepped out of the darkness with no warning near Rivalen, Tamlin, and Brennus. The Selgauntan soldiers nearby shouted and drew their blades. Others whirled and leveled crossbows.
"Hold," Rivalen said, his deep voice booming, shadows swirling.
Tamlin echoed Rivalen's words, though the priests' sudden appearance had startled even him. "Stay your blades. These are allies."
Each priest wore black plate armor and a full-faced helm. Their eyes were holes, invisible under the guards. Shadows clotted around them.
Shades, Tamlin realized.
On tarnished silver chains around their necks, each wore a disk of onyx bordered with tiny amethysts-Shar's holy symbol. Each also wore a black cloak trimmed in fur. All of them wore twin short swords at their belts. They threw up their face guards-Tamlin noted two women among them-and moved before Rivalen.
"Nightseer," a tall, dark-haired priestess said, and bowed.
"Variance," Rivalen said. He looked to Tamlin. "These are the priests and priestesses I promised, Hulorn."
Tamlin summoned his dignity and said, loud enough for his men to hear, "I extend welcome to you all. You have my gratitude and that of the city."
The priests and priestesses turned and acknowledged Tamlin with a tilt of their heads. Some of the soldiers nearby grumbled. Tamlin heard the word "Sharran" muttered several times.
He looked around at his soldiers and shouted, "Forget what you may have heard of Shar. They are lies. These men and women have come to Selgaunt willingly, to stand or fall at your side. They have answered a request from me to Prince Rivalen. He, and they, have my complete trust. And so should they have yours."
Few eyes held his. The grumbling ceased.
Onthul nodded a welcome at the priests as he moved among the men. "You heard the Hulorn. Mind your posts and be thankful at least some priests stand beside you."
Many nods answered Onthul's words, grudging agreement.
Satisfied, Tamlin looked to Rivalen. "I would prefer to spread them among the men, Prince."
"Well conceived," Rivalen said. He looked to Variance. "Disperse among the men. Help as you may. Battle comes with the sun."
She nodded and pulled down her faceguard. Shadows collected around the priests and priestesses and they disappeared, materializing here and there along the wall.
Saerloon's forces, too, continued to materialize from the darkness, appearing out of nothingness like shades themselves. They burned no torches. Only the moonlight lit their ranks, glittered off their helms and spear points. The influx of men soon stopped, but the number of men that had come was enough to cause Tamlin's heart to thump.
"Six thousand, I would wager," Brennus said matter-of-factly.
"Closer to seven," Rivalen said.
Except for an occasional cough, curse, or prayer, quiet ruled the walls of Selgaunt. All eyes stared out on the field, on the Saerloonians. Tamlin fought a rising sense of dread. Dawn was mere hours away.
As the false dawn lightened the sky, two carriages rumbled up to the gates, wheels clattering. The doors opened and a contingent of eight priests exited. Ansril Amhaddan, the fat High Songmaster of Milil, led the group, flanked by Aumraeya Ulmbrin, the High Priestess of Sune. Behind them stood representatives of the other major faiths of Selgaunt: Denier, Oghma, Lliira, Lathander, Tymora, and Waukeen. All of the priests and priestesses wore the formal vestments of their faith. They spoke to nearby soldiers and the soldiers pointed up at Tamlin. The priests' gazes fixed on him, on Rivalen, on Brennus. They did not wave in greeting.
Tamlin descended the stairs and met them on the road behind the Khyber Gate, in the shadow of the trebuchets. The men fell silent around him. He felt hundreds of eyes on him.
"What is this, Ansril?" Tamlin said.
Ansril answered in his smooth tenor. "Hulorn, we are here to vehemently protest the presence of the Shadovar priests."
"Sharran priests," spat Aumraeya, her attractive face twisted into a scowl.
Before Tamlin could respond, the darkness around him deepened and Rivalen appeared at his side. Brennus appeared in the next breath. A murmur went through the Selgauntan priests and the men nearby. Anger twisted the priests' expressions. Behind the anger, Tamlin saw fear.
Ansril and Aumraeya looked at Tamlin and studiously avoided eye contact with the Princes of Shade. "I will not discuss this with you in their presence," Ansril said to Tamlin.
The shadows around Rivalen churned. His words had an edge like a sword. "Mind your tone, priest."
Before Ansril could respond, Tamlin said, "You will discuss it in their presence or not at all. I requested that Prince Rivalen summon such aid as he could. The Sharran priests and priestesses are here at my invitation."
The priests behind Ansril and Aumraeya looked appalled.
"They are Sharrans," Ansril said, as if that settled the matter.
"They are," Tamlin acknowledged. "And?"
"Is that not enough?" Aumraeya asked, eyeing Rivalen with contempt.
Brennus's homunculi gestured obscenely at the Sunite priestess. She glared at them.
"It is not," Tamlin answered.
"We are here to assist in the defense of the city," Rivalen said.
"To what end, Sharran?" Aumraeya snapped. "What secrets hide in the dark hearts of you and your goddess? What do you really want here?"
Rivalen did not move, but he seemed to grow larger. The shadows around him churned. As one, the priests of the entourage backed up a step, eyes wide, hands on holy symbols. "I will remind you all only once more to mind your tone."
Tamlin held up a hand. "That is enough. You have made your speech. I have heard it. Leave now."
"Desperate times are no excuse to ally with darkness, Hulorn," Ansril said, eyeing Rivalen and breathing heavily.
Tamlin lost patience. He stepped forward and glared into Ansril's face. He spoke in a voice loud enough for all nearby to hear. "Nor is politics an excuse for cowardice. The Sharrans you hold in such contempt are willing to fight and die beside the soldiers of this city. You are not. They man the walls while you cower in your temples. They stand shoulder to shoulder with our soldiers while you slink about in your carriage. You would not have even used the powers granted you by your gods to feed the people of this city had I not ordered it."