Mogaba received
the news about the South Gate in grim, expressionless silence. He
asked no questions, just looked to the west to see how much
daylight he had left. He turned to Aridatha and Ghopal. The latter
nodded slightly.
Once a messenger had departed, the Great General asked,
“Are they continuing their attack on the
waterfront?”
Aridatha responded. “At last report they were stepping it
up.”
“Send another company. Their main force will head straight
here. With all their sorcery supporting it. A counterattack down
there should have an excellent chance of succeeding.”
“And what should I do about the invaders?” Aridatha
asked.
“We’ve had that set for months. Just follow the
plan. Let it unfold.”
Aridatha nodded, plainly wishing there was some way to reduce
the bloodshed. He was less pessimistic about the outcome of this
conflict than was the Great General. But he feared the price would
be so crippling that victory would be the greater evil for the city
as a whole.
Mogaba told him, “I want you to return to your own
headquarters now. Continue to direct your troops from
there.”
“But . . . ”
“If this goes badly and you’re here with me when
they come you’ll have to pay a crueler price than necessary.
Do as I say. Ghopal, you take over here. No one goes into the
Palace. No one comes out. If the enemy gets this far make sure they
know about the Khadidas and the Daughter of Night. I expect you to
stay out of the way yourself. The best people to get the
information to are the two wearing the fiery armor. Widowmaker and
Lifetaker. They’ll listen to you. They’re the
girl’s natural parents. Aridatha, why are you still standing
there? You have your instructions.”
Ghopal asked, “What’ll you be doing?”
“Readying a pair of counterattacks that’ll make
these strange foreign soldiers wish that they’d never left
the land where they were born.” The Great General projected
immense confidence.
He did not feel a bit of it inside.
Nevertheless, his stride was that of an arrogant conquerer as he
walked away from the Palace, a gaggle of messengers and
functionaries scurrying behind him. He spun off orders as he
went.
Mogaba spotted the white crow watching from a cornice stone. He
beckoned. “Come down here.” He patted his shoulder.
The bird did as it was bid, startling Mogaba’s
entourage.
The Great General asked, “Are you who I think you
are?”
Mogaba received
the news about the South Gate in grim, expressionless silence. He
asked no questions, just looked to the west to see how much
daylight he had left. He turned to Aridatha and Ghopal. The latter
nodded slightly.
Once a messenger had departed, the Great General asked,
“Are they continuing their attack on the
waterfront?”
Aridatha responded. “At last report they were stepping it
up.”
“Send another company. Their main force will head straight
here. With all their sorcery supporting it. A counterattack down
there should have an excellent chance of succeeding.”
“And what should I do about the invaders?” Aridatha
asked.
“We’ve had that set for months. Just follow the
plan. Let it unfold.”
Aridatha nodded, plainly wishing there was some way to reduce
the bloodshed. He was less pessimistic about the outcome of this
conflict than was the Great General. But he feared the price would
be so crippling that victory would be the greater evil for the city
as a whole.
Mogaba told him, “I want you to return to your own
headquarters now. Continue to direct your troops from
there.”
“But . . . ”
“If this goes badly and you’re here with me when
they come you’ll have to pay a crueler price than necessary.
Do as I say. Ghopal, you take over here. No one goes into the
Palace. No one comes out. If the enemy gets this far make sure they
know about the Khadidas and the Daughter of Night. I expect you to
stay out of the way yourself. The best people to get the
information to are the two wearing the fiery armor. Widowmaker and
Lifetaker. They’ll listen to you. They’re the
girl’s natural parents. Aridatha, why are you still standing
there? You have your instructions.”
Ghopal asked, “What’ll you be doing?”
“Readying a pair of counterattacks that’ll make
these strange foreign soldiers wish that they’d never left
the land where they were born.” The Great General projected
immense confidence.
He did not feel a bit of it inside.
Nevertheless, his stride was that of an arrogant conquerer as he
walked away from the Palace, a gaggle of messengers and
functionaries scurrying behind him. He spun off orders as he
went.
Mogaba spotted the white crow watching from a cornice stone. He
beckoned. “Come down here.” He patted his shoulder.
The bird did as it was bid, startling Mogaba’s
entourage.
The Great General asked, “Are you who I think you
are?”