David Eddings: Domes of Fire

‘Yes, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk replied calmly. ‘We’re playing for time here. The bell that started to ring an hour or so ago was a sort of general signal. Caalador’s cutthroats took the ring-leaders into custody when it rang, Ehlana moved the party-goers inside the castle, and the Atan legions outside the city started to march as soon as they heard it. That loud-mouth who’s presently on fire at the edge of the moat is a graphic demonstration of just how truly unpleasant things are going to get if the mob decides to insist on being admitted. It’s going to take some serious encouragement to persuade them to approach us again.’

‘I thought you said you could hold them off.’

‘We can, but why risk lives if you don’t have to? You’ll note that there was no cheering or shouts when Bevier shot his catapult. Those people out there are staring at an absolutely silent, apparently unmanned castle that almost negligently obliterates offensive people. That’s a terrifying sort of thing to contemplate. This is the part of the siege that frequently lasts for several years.’ Sparhawk looked down the parapet. ‘I think it’s time for us to move inside that turrret, your Majesties,’ he suggested. ‘We can’t be positive that Khalad disabled all the crossbows—or that somebody in the mob hasn’t repaired a few. I’d have a great deal of trouble explaining why I was careless enough to let one of you get killed. We can see what’s going on from the turret, and I’ll feel much better if you’ve both got nice thick stone walls around you.’

‘Shouldn’t we rupture those barges now, dear?’ Ehlana asked him.

‘Not just yet. We’ve got the potential for inflicting a real disaster on the besiegers there. Let’s not waste it.’

Some few of the crossbows in the hands of the mob functioned properly, but not very many. There seemed to be a great deal of swearing about that. A serious attempt to re-open the gates of the compound fell apart when the Peloi, their sabres flashing and their shrill, ululating war cries echoing back from the walls of nearby opalescent palaces, charged across the neatly-clipped lawns to savage the crowd clustered around the gate. Then, because once the Peloi have been unleashed they are very hard to rein in again, the tribesmen from the marches of eastern Pelosia sliced back and forth through the huddled mass cowering on the grass. The palace guards who had joined the mob made some slight effort to respond, but the Peloi horsemen gleefully rode them down.

Sephrenia and Vanion entered the turret. The small Styrik woman’s white gown gleamed in the shaft of moonlight that streamed in through the door. ‘What are you thinking of, Sparhawk?’ she demanded angrily. ‘This isn’t a safe place for Ehlana and Sarabian.’

‘I think it’s as safe as I can manage, little mother. Ehlana, what would you say if I told you that you had to go inside?’

‘I’d say no, Sparhawk. I’d crawl out of my skin if you locked me up in some safe room where I couldn’t see what’s going on.’

‘I sort of thought you might feel that way. And you, Emperor Sarabian?’

‘Your wife just nailed my feet to the floor, Sparhawk. How could I possibly run off and hide while she’s standing up here on the wall like the figurehead on a warship?’ The emperor looked at Sephrenia. ‘Is this insane foolhardiness a racial characteristic of these barbarians?’ he asked her.

She sighed. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the things they’re capable of, Sarabian,’ she replied, throwing a quick smile at Vanion.

‘At least someone in that mob’s still thinking coherently, Sparhawk,’ Vanion said to his friend. ‘He’s just realised that there are all sorts of unpleasant implications in the fact that they can’t get in here or out of the compound. He’s out there trying to whip them up by telling them that they’re doomed unless they take this castle.’

‘I hope he’s also telling them that they’re doomed if they try,’ Sparhawk replied.

‘I’d imagine that he’s glossing over that part. I had some misgivings about you when you were a novice, my friend. You and Kalten seemed like a couple of wild colts, but now that you’ve settled down, you’re really quite good. Your strategy here has been brilliant, you know. You actually haven’t embarrassed me too much this time.’

‘Thanks, Vanion,’ Sparhawk said dryly

‘No charge.’

The rebels approached the moat tentatively, their faces filled with apprehension and their eyes fixed on the night sky, desperately searching for that first flicker of fire which would announce that Sir Bevier was sending them greetings. The chance passage of a shooting-star across the velvet throat of night elicited screams of fright, followed by a vast nervous laugh. The gleaming, brightly-lit castle, however, remained silent. No soldiers lined the battlements. No globs of liquid fire sprang into the night sky from within those nacreous walls. The defenders crouched silently behind the battlements and waited.

‘Good,’ Vanion muttered after a quick glance out of one of the embrasures in the turret. ‘Someone saw the potential of those barges. They’ve clapped together some scaling ladders.’

‘We have to rupture those barges now, Vanion!’ Ehlana exclaimed urgently.

‘You didn’t tell her?’ Vanion asked Sparhawk.

‘No. The concept might have been difficult for her to accept.’

‘You’d better take her back inside the castle then, my friend. What’s going to happen next is likely to upset her a great deal.’

‘Will you two stop talking about me as if I weren’t even here?’ Ehlana burst out in exasperation. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘You’d better tell her,’ Vanion said bleakly.

‘We can start that fire at any time, Ehlana,’ Sparhawk said as gently as he could. ‘In a situation like this, fire’s a weapon. It’s not tactically practical to waste it by setting it off before your enemies are around to receive its benefits.’

She stared at him, the blood draining from her face. ‘This wasn’t what I’d planned, Sparhawk!’ she said vehemently. ‘The fire’s supposed to keep them away from the moat. I didn’t want you to burn them alive with it.’

‘I’m sorry, Ehlana. It’s a military decision. A weapon’s useless unless you demonstrate your willingness to employ it. I know it’s hard to accept, but if we take your plan to its ultimate application, it may save lives in the long run. We’re outnumbered here in Tamuli, and if we don’t establish a certain reputation for ruthlessness, we’ll be over-run the next time there’s a confrontation.’

‘You’re a monster!’

‘No, dear. I’m a soldier.’

She suddenly started to cry. ‘Would you take her inside now, little mother?’ Sparhawk asked Sephrenia. ‘I think we’d all rather she didn’t see this.’ Sephrenia nodded and took the weeping queen to the stairway leading down from the turret.

‘You might want to go too, your Majesty,’ Vanion suggested to Sarabian. ‘Sparhawk and I are more or less accustomed to this sort of unpleasantness. You don’t have to watch, though.’

‘No, I’ll stay, Lord Vanion,’ Sarabian said firmly.

‘That’s up to you, your Majesty.’

A sheet of crossbow bolts rattled against the battlements like hail. It appeared that the rebels had been repairing the results of Khalad’s tampering. Then, fearfully, splashing in panicky desperation, swimmers leapt from the edge of the moat and struggled their way to the barges to slip the mooring lines. The barges were quickly pulled to shore, and the rebels, their makeshift scaling-ladders already raised, swarmed on board and began to pole their way rapidly across the moat to the sheer castle-wall.

Sparhawk stuck his head out through the doorway of the turret. ‘Kalten!’ he hissed to his friend who was crouched down on the parapet not far from the turret. ‘Pass the word! Tell the Atans to get ready!’