"Not to mention the several hundred native guides working for them who
aren't me," Sinja said. "I was leading a militia, you'll recall. I've
left as many as I could behind, but they've had a season to get any
information they wanted."
Otah raised his hands in a pose that abandoned his point. He had the
feeling of trembling that he remembered from the aftermath of his
battles. From hearing Danat's struggles to breathe when his cough had
been at its worst. It wasn't time to feel; he couldn't afford to feel.
He tried to push the fear and despair away; he couldn't. It was in his
blood now.
"I can try," Nlaati said. "I'll have to try."
"You have a binding ready?" Sinja asked.
"Not ready," Cehmai said. "We have it in outline. It would need weeks to
refine it."
"I'll try," Maati said. His voice was stronger now. His lips were pulled
thin. "But I don't know that it will help if it comes to a battle. If it
works, I can see they never hear children, but that won't stop them in
the near term."
"You could make it hurt," Sinja suggested. "Men don't fight as well
newly gelded."
Nlaati frowned deeply, his fingers moving on their own, as if tracing
numbers in the air.
"Do what you can," Otah said. "If you think a change will make the
binding less likely to work, don't do it. We need an andat-any andat.
The details aren't important."
"Could we pretend?" Liat asked. "Dress someone as an andat, and send
them out with Maati. How would the Galts know it wasn't true?"
"The costume would have to involve not breathing," Cehmai said. Liat
looked crestfallen.
"Kiyan," Otah said. "Can we arm the people we have?"
"We can improvise something," his wife said. "If we put men in the
towers, we can rain stones and arrows on them. It would make it hard for
them to keep to the streets. And if we block the stairways and keep the
platforms locked at the top, it would be hard work to get them out."
"Until the cold kills them," Sinja said. ""There's not enough coal in
the ground to keep those towers warm enough to live in."
"They can survive a few days," Otah said. "We'll see to it."
"We can also block off the entrances to the tunnels," Liat said. "Hide
the ventilation shafts and fill as many of the minor ways down as we can
find with stones. It would be easier, wouldn't it, if there were only
one or two places that we needed to defend?"
"There's another option," Sinja said. "I don't like to mention it, but
... If you surrender, Balasar-cha will kill Otah and Eiah and Danat.
Cehmai and Maati. The Khai Cetani and his family too, if they're here.
He'll burn the hooks. But he'd accept surrender from the utkhaiem after
that. It's a dozen or so people. There's no way to do this that kills
fewer."
Otah felt himself rock hack. A terrible weight seemed to fall on his
shoulders. He wouldn't. Of course he would not. He would let every man
and woman in the city die before he offered up his children to be
slaughtered, but it meant that every one that died in the next few days
would be doubly upon his conscience. Every life that ended here, ended
because he had refused to he a sacrifice. He swallowed to loosen the
knot in his throat and took a pose that dismissed the subject.
"I had to say it," Sinja said, apologizing with his tone.
"You didn't say my name," Kiyan said. Her eyes turned to Sinja's. "Why
didn't you say my name?"
"Well, assuming that you don't all opt for slaughter, there is one other
thing we have in our favor," Sinja said. ""They sent me here to betray
you. Kiyan's safety was my asking price. They expect a report from me
when they arrive. If I give them had information, we may he able to trap
some of them. Thin their forces. It won't win the battle, but it could
help."
Otah raised his hand, and the mercenary stopped. Kiyan was the one who
took a querying pose, and it was to Kiyan that he answered.
"The general. Balasar-cha. He doesn't want a bloody battle. He wants it
over quickly, with as few of his men lost as he can manage. I agreed to
come here and discover your defenses if he spared you. Gave you to me
when it was all over with. Prize of war. It's not all that uncommon.
Kiyan rose, her small foxlike face turned feral. Her fingers were
splayed in claws, and her chest pressed forward like a bantam ready for
the fighting pit. Otah's heart warmed with something like pride.
,,If you let them touch l iah and Danat, I would kill you in your
sleep," she said.
"But Balasar-cha doesn't know that," Sinja said, shrugging and looking
into the fire. He couldn't meet her eyes. "He expects a report from me,
and I'll give him one. I'll give him whatever report you'd like."
"Gods," Kiyan said, her eyes still ablaze. "Is there anyone you haven't
betrayed?"
Sinja smiled, but Otah thought there was sorrow in his dark eyes.
"Yes, there is. But she was in love with someone else."
Cchmai coughed, embarrassed. Otah raised his hands.
"Enough," he said. "We haven't got time for this. We may have a little
as a day to get ready. Maati, you prepare your binding. Cehmai will help
you. Kiyan. Liat. You've arranged food and quarters for two cities. Do
what you can to arm them and keep people from panicking. Sinja and I
will work out a plan to defend the city and a report to deliver to the
Galts."
Kiyan's eyes carried a question, but Otah didn't answer. There was no
reason to trust Sinja-cha. It was just the risk he chose to take.
Servants brought maps of the city, of the low towns to the south, and
the mountains and mines to the North. Machi hadn't been built to
withstand a war; there were no walls to defend, no pits that the enemy
would have to bridge. The only natural barrier-the river-was already
frozen solid enough to walk across. Any real defense would have to he on
the black-cobbled streets, in the alleys and tunnels and towers. They
talked late into the night, joined by the Khai Cetani and Ashua Radaani,
Saya the blacksmith and Kiyan when she wasn't out among the tunnels
spreading the word and making preparations. Sinja's shame, if it was
still there, was hidden and his advice was well considered. By morning,
even the Khai Cetani suffered interruption from Sinja-cha. Otah took it