"Worse? No. Sulun broods too much over this little war."
"Ah, well, he was shaped by the gods for the scholars' tower and the laboratorium, not for such work as this."
"Third hell, were any of us born for such—hey, look there!"
A light glimmered, far out in the dark: flame flickering, but blue as no flame should be.
The gate guard shouted and climbed to his feet. So did his companion by the unfinished wall. Zeren swore, pulled out his sword, and hammered its butt on the iron gateway bell.
The flame came running toward them up the hill, crawling like a bright snake, flowing like water, straight toward the gate. Now the tips of the blue flames gleamed yellow, like spines on a dragon's back.
Running footsteps echoed in the courtyard below. Sulun's voice, mixed with Omis's, demanding to know where the enemy was.
"Blue fire, running uphill toward the gate," Zeren shouted down at them. "Come up and look."
"Is it within Eloti's wards?" Sulun shouted as he scrambled up the stile to the walkway.
"Well within," Yanados pointed. "Stronger magic than hers, think you?"
Below them, the line of fire snaked up the road, making straightaway for the front gate. The guardsman there yelped and jumped to one side. His companion came running, had the sense or training to make certain his partner was unharmed, then stopped and stared at the oncoming flames. "Yotha begone, Yotha begone," he muttered, wagging his fingers in elaborate signs that had no effect whatever.
"Not magic at all," Sulun announced, watching it. "Common chemistry, not unlike our firepowder. But how could they have spread it so close . . . Wait."
Less than thirty yards from the gate the flame-trail stopped. It rose to a snapping tower of fire and danced there, lighting up the ground all around it, as if taunting the defenders of the house. One of the guardsmen covered his eyes, but after a moment dared to peep through his fingers. "What made it stop?" asked a quiet little voice at Sulun's elbow.
He looked down, startled, to see Ziya staring at the column of fire. Gods, this is especially cruel to her, he thought, suddenly furious. "It ran out of fuel," he said, hearing a ring of contempt in his voice. "See there, where its tail is shrinking? That's where the fluid that feeds it has burned away. The rest will die soon enough." He leaned over the parapet and shouted at the fire column. "Shrink and die, you worthless conjurer's trick! Dry up and shrivel!"
The guards gaped up at him.
Sure enough, the fire-trail sank down and died. The column of flames grew no taller, whipped and darted for a moment in the light wind, then began to shrink. Within moments it sank to a ring of dying blue flames, then winked out. The sudden return of darkness made everyone blink and rub their eyes. After a moment, the guards sent a ragged cheer.
"Did you make it stop?" Ziya asked.
"No, child," Sulun admitted, shivering as his anger passed. "I only guessed when it would stop of itself."
"It wasn't magic at all, was it?"
"No, not at all. Ask Eloti; magic can only well-wish or ill-wish. All the rest is elaborate tricks—like that one."
Zeren strode up, interrupting him. "Is that it, do you think? Have they done their attack for tonight?"
"Should be . . ." Sulun rubbed his forehead, trying to calculate with too many unknown factors. "They can't have much fire-fluid at any one time: too hard to make, needs too much wine for its source. . . . Besides, who could come sneaking up to our walls with whole barrels full, especially unseen? And yet . . ."
"How much fluid is needed, to make that much fire?"
"Gods, I'm not sure. A kegful, at least."
"A stalking man might carry a single keg, but no more."
"True, true. They may be finished for the night. Yet, I was so sure they'd attack the wall, where the block fell."
"Hah, so that's why you set the other guard there?" Zeren leaned over the parapet and called down to the huddled guards. "You lads, did you see anyone come sneaking close to the new part of the wall?"
"No, sir," one of the guards retorted stoutly. "I been there all night, and seen none."
Zeren froze where he was, teeth showing in a sudden, unlovely smile. "All night—except for just now!"
"What, sir?"
Zeren turned his head just enough to growl at Sulun. "Diversion! Get to that wall and see who's about it right now. Hey, Yanados, go with him! You lad, hurry back to your post and tell me if you see, hear, smell, or feel anything strange. Sulun, what did you say that stuff smelled like?"
But Sulun was already running for the unfinished section of wall. Yanados pounded after him, yanking an arrow out of her quiver. She almost bumped into Sulun as he skidded to a halt, sniffing fiercely, by the gap.
"Gods, it might be, but I can't be sure," he muttered, stalking forward slowly. "Keep watch; they might still be about. Where's that guard?"
"Ey, Masters," the guard called plaintively from somewhere ahead of them. "I don't know if it means aught, but I'd swear I could smell temple incense somewhere close."
Sulun looked where the voice sounded. "Gods, the scaffolding!" he yelped. "It's wood! We soaked it down but that might not be—Water! Yanados, come help me get water!"
He ran back toward the main building, cloak flapping. Yanados paused only to shove her bow and arrow back into the quiver before running after him. Vari met them at the door with two buckets and a large kettle, all sloshing full.
"You guessed, bless you," Sulun panted, picking up one of the buckets.
Yanados grabbed the other. Vari took up the kettle, and they all hurried back to the wall.
"The scaffolding," Sulun was panting as they climbed up onto the stone. "Wet it down, and the ground below it. Water, more water—Gods!"
"Here it comes again!" screeched the guard, pointing.
They could all see it: a narrow river of fire running up the hillside toward them. So fast it came, so wickedly fast.
Sulun swung his bucket in a narrow arc, splashing it contents all over the damp planks of the scaffold. "Get the ground!" he shouted. "The ground below! Hurry!"
Yanados and Vari unloaded their water at the same time, down the braces of the scaffold and onto the ground below.
The fire raced for them at windspeed, and again the guard leapt, howling out of the way.
"More water!" Sulun shouted, dragging the others down from the wall. "If we can dilute it enough . . . Hurry!"
Vari and Yanados duly followed him, casting only brief glances back over their shoulders at the oncoming train of fire.
Zeren watched from the gate, cursing in a dozen different tongues, as the flame snake ran toward the wall. It wasn't going to stop a few yards off this time; the clever pig's son who'd led it here had reached all the way to the wooden scaffolding, at least. Damn, that would burn like a torch if Sulun couldn't wet it enough. He pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow to the string, knowing it was futile. The sneak thief responsible would be far out of sight now, if he had any sense.
The fire-trail darted among the scatter of waiting stones and ran up to the wall, straight for the scaffolding.
And there it stopped, hissing and spouting fireballs, just out of reach of the waiting wood. Flames leapt, spat, crawled in all directions like a baffled flood halted by an invisible dam, seeking some way around it.
"Vozai, the waters stopped it!" Zeren laughed. "It can't reach—"
The cheer froze in his throat as he saw something else by the light of the frustrated flame.
A child stood on the wall, just beyond the scaffolding, almost within reach of the fire. It was Ziya, wearing a look that better belonged on a soldier in battle, and she was shaking her fist at the flames.