The embassy consisted of one man, a hard-faced professional soldier who announced himself as Morgan Gestrel Hearst, son of Avor the Hawk, veteran of the wars of the Cold West, Chevalier of the Iron Order of the city of Chi'ash-lan, warrior of Rovac, dragon-killer and blood-sworn defender of the Prince of Estar, Johan Meryl Comedo.
'… in which capacity I claim the right to meet in combat the man I see there sitting amongst you, Volaine Persaga Haveros. Oathbreaker! Sworn to the service of the prince, he proves himself a liar, a trust-breaker, a traitor. If this assembly has any regard for its own honour, it will grant me his head, either by handing it to me or by giving me the chance to take it, man against man, blade against blade.’
This, translated from Galish into Eparget for the benefit of Lord Alagrace, his senior officers and siege marshals and all their attendants and immediate subordinates, failed to make a stir. The Collosnon Empire, an immensely self-confident and self-absorbed organization, had little regard for the accusations and the histrionics of outsiders.
'This is not the time to challenge,' said Haveros, 'whatever the provocation. We should be talking terms. We can at least arrange for you all to escape with your lives.’
'Such generosity!' said Hearst, with a sneer, 'I don't require or desire any favours from you. Once you've bloodied yourselves against the castle walls, you'll start to get a better idea of what's yours to give and dispose of.’
'I can tell you one thing that's ours to dispose of,' said Haveros. 'We took prisoners in Lorford.’
'Cook them and eat them for all I care,' said Hearst.
'My oath of service is to the prince, not to the earthgrub-bers under his feet.’
'One of our prisoners is Valicia Resbit,' said Haveros. 'You know and I know that she's been favoured with the attentions of Elkor Alish. Your fellow Rovac worrior, your companion in your years in the Cold West.’
'Alish has said nothing of his whore,' said Hearst, speaking with tight-lipped fury, as if he had been mortally insulted. 'You can cut her up and share the bits around for all I care.’
And now it seemed that his attitude had hardened. He refused three different sets of terms, all of which would have allowed the inhabitants of the castle to depart with their lives and go elsewhere. Finally, Hearst was presented with an ultimatum to take back to Castle Vaunting:
'Lord Pentalon Alagrace, his judgment graced by the manifold contributions of Volaine Persage Haveros, the resident interpolator of the imperial province of Estar, imposes terms as follows.
'Surrender must be immediate. Any delay will mean death for all those in the province of Estar who now stand in rebellion against the imperial power. The Supreme Power of Tameran will not countenance any further insolence from those designed by nature to be his slaves. Through the grace of Lord Pentalon Alagrace, hear his commands.
'Our Lord the Emperor Khmar requires the surrender of the ruling castle of Estar, together with all horse and weapons. Those in the castle must leave, taking with them only their clothes and their children. The ruby eye of the dragon Zenphos is to be delivered to the army of rightful inheritance. The prince of the castle is to be delivered up for execution. Any and all diviners, necromancers, sorcerers, witches, palmists, makers of spells and potions or other workers of magic are to be killed, and their heads presented to the commander of the battlefield.
'Long live the emperor!’
It was anyone's guess how much of that ultimatum 173
would actually be carried back to Castle Vaunting; it was the comon agreement of experienced observers that the warrior Morgan Hearst seemed remarkably ill-suited for the role of ambassador, and, if his intransigence was typical, the peaceful surrender of the castle could not reasonably be expected.
When Morgan Hearst returned to Castle Vaunting toward nightfall, the rain had eased to a drizzle. In the failing light, a ceremony was organised for those chosen for the first wave to attack the castle. The Princess Quenerain officiated.
Dressed in a robe of blue silk – blue is the colour of the unattainable sky, and hence of virginity – the princess led the assembled men through the seven Chants, ending with the Voicing.
Rituals differ according to tribe and nation, but all have something in common. An area of ground is temporarily or permanently consecrated for the use of a selected group which has assembled to express a common purposs. Both the consecration and the common purpose may be explicit or implicit; it makes no difference.
The Collosnon Empire had learnt long ago that to command the body is also to command the mind. It used tried and trusted military rituals – drill, parades and inspections – to perfect the discipline of the armies. However, disobedience and desertion were still common, and sometimes there was outright mutiny.
These failures were, by and large, the result of lapses of leadership. High caste warlords still tended to behave with the reckless lawlessness which had characterized the chiefs of the horse tribes. The Lord Emperor Khmar tolerated these delinquencies, and was lax when it came to disciplining his commanders.
Still, when failures of discipline were investigated, the emperor himself could hardly be blamed in public, and it would not have been politic even to go so far as to blame the high caste commanders. Accordingly, desertion and mutiny produced more regulations to control the common soldiers, and more rituals to perfect their indoctrination.
The Rite led by the Princess Quenerain was an exercise in indoctrination. If it did nothing else, it persuaded the soldiers that they were important; the Rite, led by the emperor's daughter, existed for their benefit. No doubt some found other consolations in the Chants and the Voicing, but even the most cynical got something from the experience.
By the time it was completely dark, the ceremony was over; an honour guard holding aloft burning torches escorted the Princess Quenerain to her tent, and the first wave prepared for the onslaught on Castle Vaunting.
Lord Alagrace gave attack command to a junior commander, Pukegoh Novdoy. Both Chonjara and Haveros had demanded the honour of leading the assault. However, Chonjara would not have inspired his men with confidence since a woman had so recently beaten him up in public. Haveros was a natural choice, since he knew the interior of Castle Vaunting, but Lord Alagrace thought it unwise to inflame the rivalry between Chonjara and Haveros.
Under cover of darkness, big crossbows were brought up to the castle moat. Grapples with ropes attached were shot through the air. These hooked onto the battlements. Men swarmed up the ropes, their bodies buffeted by a rising wind, a five-scream drop to the glowing depths of fire yawning beneath them. Some of the invaders were to advance along the battlements to storm the gatehouse keep. Others were to abseil down to the central courtyard and try and force entry to the gatehouse keep from there.
When the first wave reached the battlements, at first there was no sign of battle. But the battlements were high and the wind strong: for all Lord Alagrace could tell, a battle might already be raging there.
Suddenly there was a rumbling roar. The ground shook. The walls of Castle Vaunting flushed sullen red with reflected light. The clouds themselves glowed with reflected fire – and, from the castle moat, blazing flames lept upward. The ropes laced across the moat crinkled into flame. Lord Alagrace swore. The first wave was cut off, trapped in the castle: they would have to fight their way to victory or die.
A moment later, a lurid blast of white lightning swept a section of the battlements near the gatehouse keep. He heard thin voices cry out. The sound was diminished by wind, height and distance, but Lord Alagrace knew he was hearing men screaming. And he suspected they were his own.
While the Collosnon army mounted its assault on Castle Vaunting, Yen Olass Ampadara slept with the monster Hor-hor-hurulg-murg and the woman Valicia Resbit, sometime mistress of the Rovac warrior Elkor Alish. They slept in a tent, with guards outside to make sure that the two who were prisoners could not escape.
Before sleeping, the three of them had talked for hours. Yen Olass had found out that Resbit was definitely pregnant, or thought she was, and was convinced she was going to bear a boy-child with a sword-arm like her lover's.
The hours of talk had already given Yen Olass a markedly better command of Galish. Conversation had given life to the dead forms of the language which she had laboured on, day in, day out, ever since midwinter, and she was already starting to learn new words.
Now, the two women slept huddled together for warmth, their bodies making one mound of softly breathing wool and fur, a single blanket sheltering the two of them. The Melski slept apart. Hor-hor-hurulg-murg needed no body-warmth to make himself comfortable; his body was supremely adapted to the slush and wet, and, though adult Melski were accustomed to sleeping in the air, he could have got a reasonable night's sleep curled up in a hole in the bottom of a lake or a river.
All three of them, captive creatures in danger of their lives, were exhausted; they did not wake when the flames of the castle moat roared up, making the ground reverberate and shake; they slept on, dreaming, till morning came.
At dawn, a report came from Castle Vaunting by means of signal flags. Casualties were heavy; Pukegoh Novdoy was dead. The enemy had repulsed all attacks on the gatehouse keep, but the Collosnon commanded the battlements. No fire, lightning or other magic had been used for hours; the strength of the defending wizards must be exhausted.
Lord Alagrace sent back a question:
'Water?’
The reply came back:
'Rain pools. Small. Enough one day.’
Lord Alagrace conferred with siege marshals. They could build a bamboo tower beside the moat, rig chains between the tower and the battlements, and send food and water to their men by means of a flying fox arrangement. But that would take days.
Lord Alagrace ordered the survivors of the first wave to rest, tend their wounded, eat, sleep, then launch a further assault on the gatehouse keep in the afternoon.
From intelligence Haveros had provided, Lord Alagrace knew he still had enough men on the battlements to have a reasonable chance of defeating the enemy absolutely by this all-out assault. If that failed, either his siege marshals would have to find some way of sending reinforcements to the battlements immediately, or some way would have to be found to reopen negotiations with the enemy.
And if that failed, Lord Alagrace could still starve out Castle Vaunting by siege. He might lose all the men of the first wave, but victory would still be his. In the end. But now… he was bone-weary, having been awake all night. Lord Alagrace retired to his tent, leaving orders for his guards to wake him if any fighting started.
Haveros made his own plans. When fighting started again, all eyes would be turned on the castle. Yen Olass took his message to the Princess Quenerain: he would come to her in the afternoon, once fighting started on the battlements. Yen Olass would stand guard while they obtained their satisfaction.
They had waited long enough.