Tain sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Honor-down, I don’t know. It’s hard to blame them, but we need every person we’ve got if we’re going to make this work.” He stood. “I’d better go, anyway.”
“Have something to drink and eat first, Honored Chancellor,” Erel said, thrusting the bottle and parcel toward Tain. “I picked it up for you on the way.”
Jov intercepted the items. “I’m thirsty,” he said, taking them off the bemused boy. “And hungry. The wound and all. You don’t mind, do you, Chancellor?” When he caught the messenger boy staring at him, slack-jawed, he added dryly, “Nor you, Erel?”
The boy mumbled something about “not my place,” but I was looking at Tain, and saw his frustrated gaze dart from the bottle Jov raised to his lips to the angry wound on his shoulder, and back again. I suddenly understood the awkwardness between them.
Jov passed him the bottle once Erel had left. “It’s just water,” he said. As Tain took the bottle, the glance they exchanged, the torment in Tain’s eyes, made my chest hurt.
“You saved my life today,” Jov said, reading Tain as easily as I had. “If you and Marco hadn’t shot those men when you did…”
“You offer yourself in my place every day,” Tain replied.
“That’s my duty.” Of all the things my brother held dear, his honor, our family’s honor, was always at the forefront. The duty that should have been mine had always ruled our lives. A wave of bitterness and failure swamped me, familiar as an old friend.
“Yes,” Tain said, but his mouth twisted. “I have to go.”
We watched him leave, silent, neither looking at the other. I felt like crying. Between Tain’s guilt, Jovan’s fears, and my resentments, this war was making strangers of us all.
* * *
“How many deserters are there?” Nara’s heavy eyebrows were drawn together in her wrinkled face, giving her the look of a very angry papna fruit. It had only been a day since the attack but the shock had worn off and everyone seemed ready to assign blame. Jov was holding his injured side awkwardly and his expression suggested he was fantasizing about poisoning half of the whining, self-important men and women around the table.
“So far, we have rounded up thirty-two,” Marco replied. He rubbed his head. “As I was saying, the Honorable Chancellor—”
“Honored,” Bradomir corrected, his well-manicured hands folded primly on the table. Tain frowned, his patience for dealing with authoritarian condescension clearly stretched thin.
Marco had thicker skin, because he continued without a change in tone. “The Honored Chancellor has determined that these deserters will not be punished now, but will be assigned duties reporting to Order Guards directly, and will pay fines after the siege is over.” He gave Tain a look that, while not precisely disrespectful, conveyed his disapproval.
“These are our people. They’re afraid,” Tain said. “Can you blame them? And locking people up won’t alleviate that fear, it’ll just cost us extra bodies we desperately need. This is the best solution for now.” As one or two other Councilors began to speak, Tain overturned the paper in front of him and continued on in a firmer tone, making it clear the discussion was over. “What’s next?”
“We need to prepare for the next attack,” Marco began.
“We swatted them away easily enough yesterday,” Lazar said, waving a plump hand confidently. “I daresay we’ll do so again!”
There was a sudden silence as many faces regarded the Credo with something close to disgust. Even among this crowd, yesterday had been a confronting day, not a triumphant one. “We lost people we could ill afford to lose,” Marco said. “We were lucky to withstand it. Next time, I believe the rebels will make a stronger attack at our infrastructure, since they failed to come over the walls.” He turned to address Eliska. “Stone-Guilder, we will need to redouble our efforts to build our own range weaponry. I propose we reduce our presence on the walls and supply additional people to assist your Guild to build siege weapons.”
A few murmurs rose up around the room and even Eliska frowned. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think unskilled workers will assist much—even my best Guild members have never made anything like this. We’re working from drawings and diagrams in books.”
“Use the help to delegate the less-skilled parts,” Tain said. “Searching the city for materials, shifting them, melting metals down—anything to make it easier for your Guild workers.”
“Isn’t it too risky taking our people off the walls?” Varina asked. “Won’t they see that and respond?”
“Our supplies of cane and wood for arrows are limited and they outnumber us ten to one. We will not be able to hold them off if they can come through our walls.” Marco shook his head, grim. “If we don’t have proper weapons to defend a full attack, we will lose the city.”
Everyone fell silent. Both Varina and Marco made fair points. We didn’t need people on the wall wasting their time if there was no attack, but we couldn’t risk the rebels exploiting any decrease in manpower should they detect it. I shifted, starting to feel the discomfort of crouching hidden up here again. My joints had started to protest these frequent visits.
“I have an idea.” Jov cleared his throat. “Credo Pedrag, your Craft Guild members are assisting with making armor, but do you think you could set some to sew false sentries? Like the dummies we use to practice archery. If we dress them in armor and set them at intervals around the wall, between our real sentries, wouldn’t they look the same from a distance? The army is staying out of range for now, and if we show the rebels the appearance of a full defense, maybe it’ll discourage them from doing anything rash until they’ve built their rams and catapults.”
Pedrag’s crinkly little eyes disappeared when he smiled. “I could do that, Credo,” he said. “I daresay it’d be easy, in fact. We’ve plenty of straw and we can make giant moppets that’ll look as good in silhouette as any man.”
“I agree,” Tain said. “Let’s take fifty extra people from wall duty to be laborers for Eliska, and get replacement dummies made as soon as we can.” He turned over another paper and I caught a suppressed sigh as he continued. “Now, you all saw the message the rebels sent us a few days ago, and you’ve probably heard rumors about the sorts of things they were shouting during the attack. We know from the bodies of those who made it over that they are indeed Sjon. We now know for sure it’s a rebellion. Our countryfolk are aggrieved at the city, possibly for some reason connected to religious beliefs.”
“I’ve always said those earthers are practicing a primitive belief system,” Varina said. “And apparently it’s a violent one, too.”
“The proper name for it is Darfri,” Javesto corrected. “And I never saw any sign that they were violent until now. Did you? Has something been happening out on the Leka estates, Credo Varina? Credo Bradomir?”
As with every previous time the subject had come up, this question turned the mood immediately defensive, as the other Credolen hastened to express their ignorance of what could have spurred an uprising. “You must understand, Honored Chancellor, these matters are handled by our stewards,” Bradomir said. “That’s what they’re for. Like yourself and your most Honored uncle before you, we lack the time to personally oversee these kinds of operations.”