I supposed that was true enough, but there were no serious injuries on our side. Only the sad cluster of grubby, stained corpses in their rough tunnel, piled like the dirt in the barrows behind them. “Was there a scout?” I asked, holding a torch up to examine the space. “Did they have any way of sending word back down the tunnel?”
He gave a little half-shrug. “I don’t know, Credo. I suppose they might have.”
We had to assume they had. Which meant they knew already that the tunnel was compromised. I brought the torch back closer to me, turning to face our prisoner, searching his expression for a clue, but he gave nothing away. No flicker of a response.
But as it turned out, we didn’t need one.
A rumbling sound was our only warning, then a sudden shower of dirt rained on us as the entire structure seemed to shake.
“Everyone out,” Tain said. “Quick!”
The entrance back into our tunnel system was narrow and half of our soldiers had milled through, so there was another moment of confusing crush as everyone tried to get out again in a hurry. The four of us were the last ones through, and I felt a whoosh of air against my back as I leaped into the reinforced tunnel.
“Collapsed.” Tain glanced back over his shoulder. “How did they do it so quickly?”
“They must have prepared it to go if they needed it to,” I said, shaking the coating of gritty dirt out of my hair and trying to ignore the itchy trickle down my back. “Guess that answers the question about the scout.”
Our prisoner looked at me then, a little sidelong glance, and though his expression never changed, I still read the satisfaction in his eyes.
* * *
Eliska crawled about on her hands and knees at the foot of the wall, rubbing one grimy hand across her forehead.
“I don’t like it. Do you see these cracks: here, and here?” She gestured. “These walls are old, and strong, but they take strength from how the stones fit together. The collapse disrupted the pattern and weakened this section. It’s susceptible to attack now.”
“Did they know that? Do you think that’s why they collapsed the tunnel?” Tain asked.
“Impossible to say, Honored Chancellor,” Marco said. “The value to them in the tunnel was secrecy. Their numbers are neutralized in a tight space so it is no use as a direct line of attack. They may have merely prepared to collapse the tunnel if discovered, rather than giving us any kind of possible exit.”
“If they just intended to use it to collapse the wall, they could have stopped well short of here,” Eliska said. “But in any case, we’ll know soon enough. If they target this spot with their siege weapons…”
Marco helped Eliska to her feet, and the two of them regarded Tain, their frames—so different in size—sharing the same wariness as they watched the Chancellor’s reaction. “I think we need to think about options for falling back.”
“You mean abandoning the lower city and retreating to the old city.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes searching the thin gaps between buildings through which glimpses of the old city could be seen, rising up from the east bank of the lake. “That’s a last resort.”
“Be that as it may, Honored Chancellor,” Marco said. “The worst may come about. We are holding the city only because of the strength of the walls. If they break through, we will not be able to defend ourselves. They outnumber us ten to one.”
He was right, of course, and Tain knew that as well as I did. But by the fortunes, the idea of having to abandon half the city … it was hard to even think about.
“What would happen if we did?” I wondered aloud. “Would the old city hold?”
The Bright Lake separated the two halves of the city, but the original wall on the west bank had been dismantled after the completion of the lower city. Only the structure around the Finger remained of the fortifications around Trickster’s, and none at all around Bell’s. If the rebels held the lower city, what would stop them from storming the bridges and taking the old city as well? Their sheer numbers would overwhelm us.
Marco spread the city map out on a rock. “If they cross the lake, we have no way to fortify the city. We could use the buildings of the old city, and what is left of the walls, to lay many traps and ambushes for them. But that would be to hurt them as badly as possible. Not to win.” Marco looked up at Tain, somber. “You understand, Honored Chancellor?”
Tain nodded.
The Warrior-Guilder traced across the map, thick fingers lingering as he drew them across the two bridges—Trickster’s on the north, Bell’s on the south. “Our best chance is to destroy the bridges.”
Eliska looked torn; I could see the engineer in her rebelling at such a suggestion. “It’s a terrible step to have to take. It took decades to build them.”
“How would we even do it?” Tain stared down at the map. Such small marks to represent such mammoth feats of engineering.
“I do not know,” Marco said. “Where I grew up, our bridges were wood, not stone. We would have to smash the support pillars, I suppose?”
Eliska sighed. “Bell’s, perhaps we could do. Great force applied to the supporting pillars, yes, perhaps. But Trickster’s?”
The main bridge across the lake, and an integral part of the famous and enviable vista of our city, Trickster’s was a massive single arch towering over the north side of the lake between huge supporting buildings. I had no concept of how it had even been built, let alone how that could be undone.
“We’d have to knock down the entire supporting structure,” she continued. “And even if we could … please, understand, we would be safer with no bridges, but we would be condemning ourselves to years of rebuilding, maybe even decades. The bridges are the lifeblood of our city.”
Tain stared at me, beseeching, but I had no counsel to offer. It was a terrible decision to have to make. “You said the tunnel neutralized their numbers, Marco,” he said eventually. “Wouldn’t the same be true of the bridge? Couldn’t we hold them back from the Finger if it came to that?”
“For a while, perhaps. But we would be left with no further retreat, Honored Chancellor.”
They continued discussing options, but I lost track as I stared at the map. On the map, the city was a mere collection of pen markings: geometric shapes and neat lines. But in my head, I saw those markings as they were in reality—a living city, people’s homes and work and studies, a beacon of peaceful and secure trade for people all over the world. The lower city was far bigger than the upper; all those neat diagrams showing Guilds, marketplaces, and residential districts.… I tried to imagine how we could function without access to its facilities. Not to mention that the lower city housed the vast majority of the city’s population. I pictured the bustling lower city burning, the upper filled with desperate crowds, and the thought made me sick and sad.
“How long do you think we have?” I asked Eliska. “How long would the wall hold out if it was struck with catapults in a full attack?”
She sighed again and stretched. I heard cracks and pops as her joints protested. “They’ll focus on the weakened part of the wall. Under sustained force from projectiles and rams, it might only be a matter of days to knock a hole in it or bring that part down.”