"After that . . ." Sulun calculated, allowing for the ignorance of strange craftsmen who wouldn't begin to understand the principles of the bombard. "A dozen workshops could make a dozen bombards, with powder and shot and sufficient knowledge to use them, in perhaps another half moon at best."
"So, if the Ancar can be held off for as long as one moon, Sabis might live." Zeren leaned back to look at the cloudless sky. "There be the gods' dicing floor, right over our heads."
"But we need those three days to finish the bombard, first." Sulun turned to Eloti, wild-eyed with a desperate hope. "Mistress, what if we were to disappear from Entori's house, just for three days, all of us? What would he do then?"
Eloti thought a moment, then shook her head. "He too has favors he can call in," she sighed. "He'd have his clients hunting the city for you, offering rewards far greater than any he's paid you. Too many neighbors know you come here, too many tradesmen, street loiterers, the gods know who else. I . . . couldn't protect you from everyone. Someone would talk."
Sulun groaned and looked back toward the busy group in the courtyard. "Then we still have to steal out here only when we can—perhaps one day in every five."
"Half a moon, then, just to finish this one bombard." Zeren glowered at the innocent-looking sky. "And another moon beyond that, to save our city. If I thought the gods would listen, I would beggar myself making offerings at every temple in Sabis. Gods, give us just that much time."
Out in the courtyard, Omis's drill began to whine through the packed sand in the bombard's muzzle, clearing out the bore.
Eloti, too, looked at the sky, then back at the ground, finally out toward the river. "I had almost forgot. Sulun, while your friends are thus engaged, come with me to the river."
"The river?" Sulun and Zeren gulped together, nonplussed at the change of subject.
"One reaches it through your back gate, not so?" Eloti stood, gathering her skirts and parasol.
"Er, oh, yes." Sulun hastened to lead the way through the courtyard, around the busy crew at the drill, to the back wall and its stout gate. "Uhm, the keys should be . . . Yes, here on the hook. I haven't opened this fool thing in years. Pray the hinges are . . . Yes."
The long-unoiled hinges screeched in protest, momentarily startling the apprentices, though Omis's concentration never wavered. The back gate grumbled open, revealing the thick-weeded bank of the river. The water here was oily and thick with garbage, and the wind off the river blew the stink into their faces.
"Ugh," muttered Sulun, pinching his nose. "It wasn't so bad inside. Let's go back."
"It's endurable." Eloti marched resolutely through the high weeds to the edge of the water. "There," she said, pointing.
Sulun looked, seeing only the wreck of what looked to be a sizable old barge tied up to ancient stakes driven into the mud. "What's there?" he asked.
Eloti smiled that faint, secret smile. "Look closer," she said. "It is not a wreck."
Sulun picked his way closer, hearing Zeren a few paces behind. The thing looked wretched enough, weathered grey hull spotted sickly green with patches of mold, deck covered with scatterings of rotted wood and dead weeds. The tie ropes looked frayed, but were thick enough to hold it steady. Still, he hated to set foot on those loose and undoubtedly rotten boards.
"Pull the top boards and weeds away," Eloti commanded, voice ever so slightly impatient.
Sulun obediently bent down and tugged away the topmost boards, brushed off some of the dead weeds.
Weeds? A lot of them, he noticed now, were artfully bound straw. The rotted boards were light, thin, and dry. No rusted nails threatened his hands. The assorted trash looked . . . fake.
Under it, the deck was clean and sound.
He stepped onto it, suspicion and wonder rising, and looked closer.
The hull and thwarts were solid too, showing little real sign of wear. The seams were caulked tight, no board was warped. The weathered grey color, he saw now, was deliberately toned paint. The mold patches were painted too.
"Camouflage," he whispered, impressed, hearing Zeren whistle in respectful amazement. "No, she's not a wreck at all."
"Below decks you'll find a mast and boom, sails, oars, and an awning," said Eloti. "I would suggest moving some of your provisions on board before we leave today."
Sulun straightened up to stare at her. Zeren, chuckling, replaced the disguising boards and weeds.
"In the event that we fail . . ." Eloti shrugged eloquently. "This can carry all of us, and everything, even the wagon and mules."
"Yes," Sulun agreed, not taking his eyes off his amazing Mistress. "Yes."
Zeren sat down on the deck and looked out over the water. "Win or lose," he muttered, "surer victory or better retreat than I've ever had before."
"That," said Eloti striding nearer to him, "is exactly what I intended."
Zeren laughed shortly. "Ah, Lady, if only some kindly god had given the defense of Sabis to you! To you, and not to those fools up on the hill." He shook his head at the madness and wonder of it.
In the courtyard, Omis stopped the drill and ordered the apprentices to change the drill bit for a heavy wire smoothing brush.
Part II
FLIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
Because a child dropped a book . . .
Memi, toting a pile of scrolls across her father's study, dropped one of them on the floor. She tried to grab it, and succeeded in losing the whole pile.
Mygenos, busy with a long list of instructions from his master, was jarred out of concentration by the sound. He jumped out of his chair, caught the erring child by the arm, and smacked her soundly on the face.
Memi, flinching away from him, blindly planted a foot on one of the unrolled scrolls, leaving a smudgy footprint.
Mygenos, his temper provoked and a target ready, yanked off his belt and began flogging the girl in earnest. The girl's struggles trampled more books, fueling Mygenos's ire to a good high blaze. He whipped her halfway across the room, finally pinning her against the wall, whipping wherever he could reach.
The child's screeches brought no help, no easing of the blows, and in desperation she scrambled for any words that would stop the pain.
"Papa, stop it! Stop it, and I'll tell!"
Mygenos, thinking only that she meant to complain to his master, laughed shortly and hit harder.
"I'll tell where Sulun is!"
Sulun? Surprised, Mygenos stopped in mid-blow. He'd scarcely even thought of the man since Shibari died.
Taking the halt in the flogging for interest, Memi tried further. "I know where Sulun is. I saw him. Just days ago. I saw."
"Where?" Mygenos demanded, twisting her arm.
"At the big house. The one where you took me, last moon-quarter. He was in the kitchen there." Memi sniffled, remembering Sulun had always been good to her. She might not have to tell Papa everything. Maybe Sulun would be safe.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Mygenos gave her arm another yank.
"Ow! Ow! I wasn't sure. He looked different. And you've told me not to speak 'til spoken to . . ."
But Mygenos had stopped listening. "Big house, last moon-quarter . . . Gods, Entori!"
Almost absently, he let go of Memi's arm. The girl lost no time scuttling away from him and out the door. Mygenos hardly noticed, letting the belt swing lax in his hand. He chuckled slowly. "Entori's house, firepowder. Unknown qualities. And his wizard's an old stick, set in his ways . . . No defense. Well, well, well."