Another scaling ladder went over. Faintly, the frightened cries of the falling Avornan soldiers came to Grus' ears. They might have proved Hirundo's point for him. Grus swore again. Hirundo set a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "These things don't always work out just the way we wish they would."
"No, eh? I never would have noticed," Grus said. Hirundo chuckled. Grus kicked at the ground and kicked up a cloud of dust. That didn't get him anywhere. He kicked up another one. Then his shoulders slumped. "Order the retreat, curse it."
"I'll do it." Hirundo spoke to the trumpeters. The mournful horn calls rang out. Slowly, sullenly, the Avornans pulled back from the walls of Yozgat. At first, the defenders seemed to think the withdrawal was a trick. When they realized that it wasn't, that Grus' men really were retreating, they whooped and jeered the way any soldiers who'd driven back their foes would have done.
Grus said several other things he wouldn't have if things had gone better. He kicked up almost enough dust to hide Yozgat. He wished a dust storm like the one that had afflicted his army would sweep down on Prince Korkut's fortress. But that storm hadn't been natural. The Banished One wouldn't inflict anything like it on a fortress his men held.
"Shall we get ready to try it again, Your Majesty?" Hirundo asked. "Next time, we may catch 'em napping."
"Yes, so we may," Grus said. "But if we don't, how much will it cost us? How long can we go on trying to storm the walls before we throw our own army away or ruin its spirit?"
"That's always an interesting question, isn't it?" Hirundo said. "You can't know the answer this soon, or I don't think you can. But we ought to be able to tell before we get in trouble pushing the men too far."
"Yes, we ought to," Grus agreed bleakly. "Will we, though?"
Before Hirundo could answer, a courier who smelled powerfully of sweat and of horse came up and saluted, saying, "Excuse me, Your Majesty, but I've got a letter from, uh, the other king for you."
"Have you?" Grus said, amused in spite of himself. Even after all these years, ordinary people didn't always know what to make of the arrangement he'd made with Lanius. Well, he didn't always know what to make of it himself, either, even after all these years. He held out his hand. "I'm always interested in seeing what King Lanius has to say."
"Here you are." The rider handed him the message tube. He opened it, took out the letter, broke the seal, unrolled the sheet, and began to read. Lanius wrote in large letters he had no trouble making out at arm's length. And the question the other king asked…
Grus started laughing before he paused to wonder what was funny. The question wasn't unreasonable, especially in light of what had just happened in front of the walls of Yozgat – in front of them, yes, and briefly on top of them, but not beyond them. If the Avornan army had gotten beyond them, then Lanius' question wouldn't have needed answering so urgently.
As things stood, Grus wasn't in much of a position to say he had any better ideas than the one Lanius had come up with. All he'd thought of was trying more and more assaults on the walls, in the hope that one of them worked. That was a hope, but no more than a hope. Lanius' scheme wasn't guaranteed, either – far from it. But the Menteshe would be looking for more of the same from the Avornan army. Whatever else you could say about it, Lanius' scheme wasn't more of the same.
In spite of himself, Grus started laughing again. He called for pen and ink. "By the gods, we'll see who's laughing when I'm done," he said as he wrote.
Tinamus bowed to King Lanius. "Hello, Your Majesty," the builder said. "May I please speak with you in private?"
"I don't see why not," Lanius replied. "Why don't you come out into the garden, then, and tell me what's on your mind?"
Something obviously was. Tinamus looked pale and worried, as though he hadn't been sleeping well. Guards came out with him and the king, but stayed far enough away to let them talk without being overheard. Butterflies fluttered from flower to flower. Sometimes Lanius liked to come out as dusk was falling, when buzzing, humming hawk moths replaced the butterflies.
The garden's beauty was lost on Tinamus. His clever hands twisted and writhed. They might have had lives – unhappy lives – of their own. "I hardly know where to begin," he said.
"Many people think the beginning is one of the better places," Lanius remarked.
His sarcasm flew right over Tinamus' head. Hands still clutching each other, the builder asked, "Have you ever had – bad dreams?"
"Oh," Lanius said. Half a dozen words, and everything was clear – clearer to him, probably, than it was to Tinamus. "Yes, by the gods, I have. So the Banished One finally decided to visit you, too, did he?"
Tinamus looked astonished, then flabbergasted. "How could you possibly know that?" Tinamus demanded.
"You asked me if I've had bad dreams. The only dreams that are that bad are from… him," Lanius said. "What did he tell you?"
"That he was going to punish me for building what I built for you," Tinamus answered. "That I deserved to be punished, because I was making a nuisance of myself."
"Congratulations," Lanius said somberly.
That struck home – struck home and angered Tinamus. "You shouldn't joke at other people's misfortune," he said.
"I wasn't. I wouldn't. I'm not," Lanius said. "But if the Banished One cares enough about you to send you a dream, you've done something he doesn't like. And what's so bad about that?"
"Building a fancy place for your whatdoyoucallit – your moncat, that's right – to run?" Tinamus exclaimed. "That's crazy. The Banished One would have to be out of his mind to worry about it even for a heartbeat."
"The Banished One is a great many things, most of them unpleasant," Lanius said. "Out of his mind, he is not."
Tinamus shook his head in stubborn disbelief. "He must be – either that or he's in my dreams for something that has nothing to do with what I built for you, no matter what he said."
King Lanius supposed that was possible. He didn't know everything Tinamus had done. But he found it about as likely as Ortalis putting away his whips and giving up his hunting. The king said, "Do you know Collurio the animal trainer?"
"I don't think I've met him. I know his name – but I suppose a lot of people here know his name." Tinamus' eyes grew sharper. "Hold on. Didn't I hear somewhere that he's training animals for you?"
"I don't know whether you heard it or not, but it's true." Lanius bent down to sniff a yellow rose. The flower was beautiful. As usual, though, he thought the red ones smelled sweeter. He turned back to Tinamus. "Here's something you probably haven't heard – he's also had dreams from the Banished One."
"An animal trainer?" Tinamus' eyes widened. "By Olor's beard, Your Majesty, why?"
"Because he's doing something the Banished One doesn't like. So am I, and I've had those dreams. And so are you – and now you've had them, too." Lanius held out his hand. "So you see I meant it when I congratulated you."
The architect looked at the king, looked at his outstretched hand, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing and hearing. Even after he clasped the proffered hand, he still looked and sounded bemused. "An animal trainer. Me. Why should the Banished One care about the likes of us? You're the King of Avornis, Your Majesty. At least it makes some kind of sense that he would worry about you."
"Glad you think so," Lanius said dryly. "There are plenty of people who would say that all I ever do is play with animals and poke around in the archives, and so nobody ought to worry about me at all – not even people, let alone the Banished One."