The snaps had an odd reverberation to them that Tavi had never heard before, but he could hear them. “Good enough. You shouldn’t be wasting energy on me in any case.”
“Deaf Captain won’t be much help to us, sir,” Foss disagreed. “And we’re staying ahead of the wounded so far.”
Tavi grunted and pushed himself up out of the tub. His muscles and joints screamed protest. Sari’s thunderbolt may not have killed him, but the fall from the horse had done him no favors. He started climbing back into his clothing. “Help me armor up?”
“Yes, sir,” Foss drawled, and stood by, helping with the buckles on Tavi’s armor.
“What’s the count?” Tavi asked quietly as he worked.
“Seventy-two injured,” Foss said at once. “All but eleven are back in the fight. Nine dead.”
“Thank you, Foss. Again.”
The veteran grunted and slapped a hand on Tavi’s breastplate. “You’re set.”
Tavi put on his sword belt and slipped a replacement gladius Magnus had dug up into the scabbard. Outside, a fresh round of singing broke out of the troops waiting in the courtyard to reinforce the walls or gate. The verses now contained a great many disparaging references to the men currently on the walls, complemented by enthusiastic boasting of the men waiting for the alleged incompetents to step out of their way.
Magnus entered the tent and nodded. “Sir,” he said. “Crassus asked me to tell you that Jens is finished.”
“Jens?” Tavi asked.
“Our only Knight Ignus, sir.”
“That’s right,” Tavi said. “Good. Thank you, Magnus.” He beckoned and strode out of the tent, back toward the fighting on the wall. As he left the tent, Ehren appeared at his side and kept pace on Tavi’s left, and Tavi nodded to him.
“What’s happening?” Tavi asked Magnus.
“The Canim sent about a third of their raiders forward. Valiar Marcus says that the regulars have shifted their position, and that they’re ready to move forward fairly quickly.”
Tavi grimaced. “Crows take it.”
Magnus lowered his voice. “It was worth a try. It may be that the Canim’s loyalties are not so fractured as we hoped.”
“Looks that way.” Tavi sighed. “They’re using their raiders to wear us down. They’ll send the regulars in once they’ve softened us up.”
“Quite probably,” Magnus said.
“What about Tribune Cymnea’s project?” Tavi asked.
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing you weren’t in the river for very long, Captain.”
“Good,” Tavi said. “Come nightfall, the Canim will try to get some troops across. They’ll want to hit us in the rear and send the regulars through the front door.” He paused as a thought struck him. He squinted up at the dim outline of the lowering sun behind the bloody clouds. “Two hours?”
“A little less, “ Magnus said.
They had to pause as Crassus and his half dozen Knights Aeris swept overhead to strafe the enemy lines with howling winds and bursts of flame. The miniature gale supporting them temporarily precluded conversation.
“What about the bridge?” Tavi asked, when he could be heard again.
“The engineers say they’d like more time to strengthen it, but they always say that. They’ve got it up to what you asked for.” Magnus paused. “Did you want to give the order now?”
Tavi bit his lip. “Not yet. We hold the gate until sundown.”
“You don’t know that the regulars will come then,” Magnus said. “And it’s going to be hard on the men at the gate to stay there. Not to mention the fact that it’s going to be difficult for them to maneuver and retreat in the dark.”
“Send for fresh troops from the north side of the river then,” Tavi said, glancing at Ehren. The Cursor nodded. “Then tell the First Spear to increase the rotation on the walls and keep our men as rested as possible.”
“If we do that, we’ll have to start using the fish. ‘
“I know,” Tavi said. “But they’ve got to get into the mud sometime. At least this way, they’ll have the veterans to back them up.”
Magnus grimaced. “Sir, the plan isn’t going to be easy, even if we move right now. If we wait another two hours…” He shook his head. “I don’t see what there is to be gained by the wait.”
“Without more Knights Ignus, we’ve only got one really big punch to throw. It’s got to count. The regulars are their backbone and this may be our only chance to break it.” He glanced back at Ehren and nodded, and the spy set out at a swift jog to deliver Tavi’s orders.
“How long has Marcus been on the wall?”
“Since it started. Call it almost two hours.”
Tavi nodded. “We’ll need him fresh and in charge when we fall back, wouldn’t you say?”
“Definitely,” Magnus said. “The First Spear has more experience than anyone on the field.”
“Anyone on our side of it, anyway,” Tavi muttered.
“Eh? What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Tavi sighed. “All right. I’m going to order him down. Get some food into him and make sure he’s ready for nightfall.”
Magnus gave Tavi a wary look. “Can you handle them up there on your own?”
“I’ve got to get in the mud, too,” Tavi replied. He squinted up at the wall. “Where’s the standard?”
Magnus glanced up at the walls. “It had been burned and muddied pretty thoroughly. I’m having a new one made, but it won’t be ready for a few more hours.”
“The burned one is just fine,” Tavi said. “Get it for me.”
“I’ll put it on a new pole, at least.”
“No,” Tavi said. “Saris blood is on the old one. That will do.”
Magnus shot Tavi a sudden grin. “Bloodied, dirty but unbroken.”
“Just like us,” Tavi agreed.
“Very good, sir. I’ll send it up with Sir Ehren.”
“Thank you,” Tavi said. Then he stopped and put a hand on Magnus’s shoulder, and said, more quietly. “Thank you, Maestro. I don’t think I’ve said it yet. But I enjoyed our time at the ruins. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Magnus smiled at Tavi and nodded. “It’s a shame you’re showing an aptitude for military command, lad. You’d have been a fine scholar.”
Tavi laughed.
Then Magnus saluted, turned, and hurried off.
Tavi made sure his helmet was seated snugly and hurried up onto the battlements, making his way down the lines of crouched legionares, bearing shields, bows, and buckets of everything from more pitch to simple, scalding water. He deftly made his way through the fighting, not jostling or interfering with any of the men, and found the First Spear, bellowing orders ten yards down the wall from the gates, where the Canim were attempting to get more climbing lines-these of braided leather and rope, not chain-while their companions below showered the walls with rough spears and simple, if enormous, stones.
“Crows take it! “ Marcus bellowed. “You don’t have to stick your fool head up to cut a line. Use your knife, not your sword.”
Tavi crouched and, while he waited for Marcus to finish bellowing, drew his knife and sawed swiftly through a braided line attached to a hook that landed near him. “Let’s keep the hooks, too, Tribune,” Tavi added. “Not throw them back out to be reused against us.” Tavi checked the courtyard below, then tossed the hook down.
“Captain!” shouted one of the legionares, and a round of shouts of greeting went up and down the walls.
Valiar Marcus checked over his shoulder and saw Tavi there. He gave him a brisk nod and banged a gauntlet to his breastplate in salute. “You all right, sir?”
“Our Tribune Medica set me right,” Tavi said. “How’s the weather?”
A thrown stone from below clipped the crest of the First Spear’s helmet, and the steel rang for a second. Marcus shook his head and crouched a little lower. “If the sun was out, we’d still be fighting in the shade,” he said a moment later, teeth flashing in a swift, fighting grin. “Two or three of them gained the wall once, but we pushed them back down. We burned down six more rams. They aren’t trying that one anymore.”