Songs of the Dying Earth

Vespanus peered out of the tower’s windows and saw that the enemy deployments had not changed.

“They’re waiting for something,” Ambius said. “I wish I knew what it was.”

Vespanus stroked his unshaven chin. “The two lords are proud. Can we cause discord between them, do you think?”

“In this,” said Ambius, “lies our greatest hope.”

“Allow me to stimulate their rivalry.”

At sunset, he summoned Hegadil from his resting-place in the architect’s thumb-ring. The madling was instructed to level the top of a small hill to the east of the castle, beyond the range of any of its weapons, and equidistant between the two armies. A small fortress was there constructed. And, when the red sun made its sluggish climb above the horizon, it illuminated not only the battlements and miniature towers of the fortress, but the long banner that curled in the wind like a snake’s forked tongue, the banner that read, “For the Bravest.”

From the tower, Vespanus perceived a stir among the besieging soldiers, pointing arms and waggling lips. Officers were summoned. These summoned bannermen. The bannermen summoned generals. And eventually the Exarch and the Basileopater of Pex were observed on their individual knolls, studying the fortress by means of far-seeing devices.

After that, a patrol was seen heading toward the fortress from the army of Calabrande. Perceiving this, the army of Pex sent its own patrol. The patrols surrounded the fortress and sent scouts inside. These returned to their units with the news that the fortress contained only a single long couch, suitable for a single person to take his rest.

Both patrols returned to their respective armies. Then, for several hours, nothing happened. The officers retired to their luncheon. The sentries returned to their drowsy patrols. The dull red sun crawled across the dark sky like a blood-bloated spider.

Vespanus cursed his useless scheme, and went to bed.

Just before nightfall, another patrol came from each army, soldiers accompanied by enchanters, and they set up a camp on the flat country in the shadow of the fortress. One designated champion of each army, armed to the teeth, walked into the fortress, where they presumably spent the night, like shy virgins, perched on either end of the couch.

Certainly, they expected to be attacked. And just as certainly, they were not — the castle’s defenders lacked even that much power. In the morning, the champions strutted out to polite applause from their followers, and then made their way to their respective armies.

“We have made a beginning,” Vespanus said.

“Not now,” said Ambius.

He was in his morning conference with the twk-men. Four more had arrived, a small squadron, and he gave them instructions to carry messages and to observe the enemy.

“My friends tell me that five barges are coming down the Dimwer from Calabrande,” Ambius said. “Each contains a large object, but these items are shrouded by canvas.”

“I mislike this attempt at concealment,” said Vespanus.

“I also,” said Ambius. “I also recall, with a certain foreboding, our speculation that the enemy forces were waiting for something, and now wonder if this might be the arrival that will precipitate their grand assault. I will sent one of the twk-men to view these barges in greater detail.”

The twk-man scout had not returned by the afternoon. Ambius chewed his upper lip.

“Perhaps,” he said, “Hegadil might be of use.”

Hegadil was sent to view the barges, and returned some moments later. He reported that each barge contained a cradle that held a bottle-shaped object some eight paces in length, each made of dark metal chased with elaborate silver Flower-and-Thorn designs. Some of these he traced on the tower walls with a finger.

“Projectors of the Halcyon Detonation!” Ambius exclaimed. “Our cause is lost!”

Vespanus attempted to stifle his alarm. “How so?” he said. “Did you not say that the fortress was proof against any form of magic?”

“Magic, yes!” Ambius said. “But the Projectors do not employ magic, but rather an ancient form of mechanics no more magical than a fire-arrow. The Halcyon Detonation can blast our walls to bits!”

Vespanus turned to Hegadil. “How long before the barges arrive at the enemy camp?”

The madling — he had appeared today in the form of Austeri-Pranz, one of Vespanus’ instructors at Roë, an intimidating man with bulging, rolling eyes and a formidable overbite — gave the question his consideration.

“Two more days, perhaps,” he judged.

“Two more days!” Ambius echoed. “And then the end!”

“Don’t despair,” Vespanus said, though with the sense that he was speaking more to himself than to his companion. “I shall send Hegadil to sink the barges!”

“They will be prepared for such an attempt,” Ambius said.

“Nevertheless…” Vespanus turned to Hegadil.

“May I complete my report?” Hegadil said.

“Yes. There is more?”