“It will be critical to target their siege weapons,” Marco said. “That means we must have catapults of our own that are accurate enough to destroy theirs, and we must be ready to stop a ram.” He looked us all over, his face grim. “As we did when they attacked the gate, we must be ready to pour demons down upon them, so they are too frightened to approach. More oil, more stone and metal … these things we need.”
Tain nodded, rubbing his forehead. “All right. Listen. I don’t want them killed any more than I want city residents killed. Our goal here is still peaceful resolution. I want peace flags hanging from every available space on the walls, and I’m going to talk to our prisoner and make him understand we want to negotiate, not fight. I’ve sent a physic to look after him for now; hopefully after a day of being cared for decently he might be inclined to listen.
“In the meantime, Eliska, can your Guild make a plan for destroying the bridges—just work out if it can be done, and how? Jov, we need people on the spyglasses every hour of the day, watching for signs that the rebels’ weapons are ready. Marco, we need a plan for defending the weak spot—give us as much time as you can, and a strategy for falling back if we need to.”
The two Guilders left us and I shut my eyes, trying to silence the clamor of disjointed thoughts and images in my head. Every part of me hurt, from the inside of my brain to the ends of my toes. I’m drowning, I thought, drowning in my own head.
But self-indulgence wasn’t going to get us through the day, let alone the siege.
Tain stood beside me, fingering the map Marco had left, his eyes unfocused. “We could lose half the city in a few days—more than half. Hundreds of years of buildings, industries, markets, and lives. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Well, it is,” I said bluntly. “And things are only going to get worse. We need to start thinking about keeping you out of the front line. It was stupid going down into the mines today. Your guards can’t protect you in close quarters fighting and neither can I. You’re not just the Heir of a peaceful city anymore. You can’t act like it.”
“I know you’re worried, but there are more important things—”
“Tain.” I cut him off, dropping my voice so the guard servants couldn’t hear. “Tain, for fuck’s sake. Someone tried to kill you yesterday. There’s no more important thing.”
He clenched his jaw, but I pressed on, having to work to keep my voice level. I couldn’t fail at this. Not this. I was all that was holding up our family’s ancient duty.
“Defending the city is everyone’s duty, but mine is you—just you. And someone watched you at training yesterday, followed you, and poisoned your food. They’re careful, they’re biding their time, and they will try again. The only thing protecting you so far is that whoever the enemy is seems to want your death to look like an accident. If that changes…”
Tain looked down, lips tight. His generosity of spirit, the good-naturedness I had always admired about him, suddenly seemed like dangerous naivety. “Fine,” he said eventually. “Fine. I’ll be more careful, all right? I won’t go rushing in. But Jov, you’ve thought we had a traitor the whole time but you don’t know who it is. I can’t avoid everyone on the Council.”
I thought back to Kalina’s list of names, the people who were in the Manor to have poisoned the leksot in the garden: Javesto, Varina, Marco, Eliska, Bradomir, Budua. Before, I’d thought those least sympathetic to the rebels were the safest. Perhaps Javesto was helping the city Darfri, and perhaps Budua was evasive with Council records, but now that made them seem less likely, not more, to have wanted to harm Caslav. Marco and Eliska, too, it was hard not to trust given I doubted we’d have held off the siege for even a few days without the guidance of those two Guilders. And Marco, at least, had risked his own life to help save mine while I climbed that ladder. Yet still, I couldn’t rule anyone out.
“I just need to know you aren’t going to do something stupid again. Don’t put yourself in a vulnerable position. I have to be able to trust you, at least.”
“You can, I promise,” he said. But I couldn’t be sure, and worry and anger and frustration gnawed at me.
* * *
It took longer than I’d hoped to check over our sector and update Chen with the new instructions. We were leaning too heavily on the Order Guard to manage things, but she was competent and Kalina and I were already being pulled in too many directions with competing priorities. By the time I was able to return to my apartments, it was afternoon. Outside our property I crossed paths with Lord Ectar and two of his silent, expressionless servants. Irritation and worry sprang up inside me. Kalina was in there, resting; she’d pushed herself too hard the last few days. What was Ectar doing, bothering her? “What can I do for you, Lord Ectar?”
Apparently he shared my irritation, because his usual careful manner seemed ruffled. “Nothing, Credo Jovan. I have been turned away from seeing your lady sister.”
“She’s unwell.” Grateful I’d sent a messenger to wait outside our apartments in case Kalina needed me, I made to step past him. He made a kind of huffing sound, so put upon that it rankled me. “My sister’s ill health bothers you, Lord Ectar?”
“What is wrong with her?” he demanded. “She seemed fine when I saw her.”
For most of my life I’d had to hear the same sentiment—sometimes asked in confidence, sometimes with brashness or suspicion or disbelief. They couldn’t see what was wrong so they assumed it was not real. “She’s been doing too much,” I snapped. “She is always unwell, she’s just very good at hiding it.”
He raised an eyebrow, the expression of polite skepticism recognizable and familiar even on his pale, painted face. I pushed past him without bothering with any more false pleasantries; he could take his nosiness and ignorance elsewhere. I’d never have dared to do it a month before, for fear of someone noticing the rudeness. How foolish our social rules seemed now.
My sister was awake—thanks, no doubt, to the unwelcome visitor—her eyes bruised and sunken, skin dull. I made her tea and a portion of rations; she argued, but feebly, and eventually ate a small amount. I held her hand as we talked over the day. She refused my offer of a numbing agent but didn’t comment on the low-level sedative in her tea, though I suspected she had noticed. Without sleep, things could get worse rapidly, and we lacked our usual luxury of a physic on demand.
While she drank I unfolded the clothes I’d picked up earlier from the Manor, and turned them inside out. I took out the naftate powder, one of the few substances that didn’t need to be hidden away, and began dusting the insides of Tain’s clothes.
“What are you doing?” Kalina asked. She would know naftate powder as the drying agent that absorbed geraslin ink, allowing papers to be reused after the text had been removed—or, as in our old games, brought back to life under heat in a “secret” message. It had another use to a proofer.
“Naftate powder will highlight certain toxins. A Chancellor a hundred years ago nearly died because the servant who dressed him every morning rubbed manita fungus on the insides of his clothes and his skin gradually absorbed it.”