"Another runner," the Khai Cetani said, taking a pose that commanded
Otah's attention. "From the palaces."
Otah nodded and stepped back from the roof edge. The runner was a
pale-skinned boy with a constellation of moles across his nose and
cheeks. (bah could see him try not to pant as the two Khaicm drew near.
Ile took a pose of obeisance.
"What's happening?" Otah demanded.
"The Galts, Most High. "They're sending messengers. "They're abandoning
the palace. It looks as if they're forming a single group."
"Where?"
""l'he old market square," he said.
"Three streets south of the main entrance to the tunnels. So they knew.
Utah felt his belly sink. He waved the trumpeter over. The man was
exhausted; Utah could see it in the flesh below his eves and in the
angle of his shoulders. His lips were cracked and blood}, from the cold
and his work. Utah put a hand on the man's shoulder.
"One last time," he said. "Call them all to fall back to the tunnel's
entrance. "There's nothing more we can do on the surface."
The trumpeter took an acknowledging pose and walked away, warming the
instrument's mouthpiece with his hand before lifting it to his bruised
mouth. Utah waited as the melody sang out in the snowy air, listened to
the echoes of it fade and he replaced by acknowledging calls.
"We should surrender," Otah said. The Khai Cetani blinked at him.
Beneath the red ice-pinched cheeks, the man grew pale. (bah pressed on.
"We're going to lose, Most Iligh. We don't have soldiers to stop them.
All we'll gain is a few more hours. And we'll pay for it with lives that
don't need to end today."
"We were planning to spend those lives before," the Khai Cetani said,
though Utah could see in the man's eves that he knew the argument was
sound. They were two dead men, fathers of dead families, the last of
their kind in the world. " \V'e always knew there would be deaths."
"'T'hat was when we had hope," Utah said.
One of the servants cried out and fell to her knees. Otah turned to her,
thinking first that she had overheard him and been overcome by grief,
and then-seeing her face-that some miraculous arrow had found its way
through the air to their roof. The men around her looked at the Khaiem,
embarrassed at the interruption, or else knelt by the girl to comfort
her. She shrieked, and the stones themselves seemed to take up her
voice. A sound rose from the city in a long, rolling unending moan.
'T'housands of voices, calling out in pain. Otah's skin seemed to
retreat from it, and a chill that had nothing to do with the
still-falling snow ran down his sides. For a moment, the towers
themselves seemed about to twist with agony. This, he thought, was what
gods sounded like when they died.
Around him, men looked nervously at the air, gazes darting into the gray
and white sky. Utah caught the runner by his sleeve.
"Go," he said. "Go, and tell me what's happened."
Dread widened the boy's eyes, but he took an acknowledging pose before
retreating. The Khai Cetani seemed poised to ask something, but only