Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

“Might be they do. It could happen.”

“Horseshit. Double horseshit. Ain’t happening. Better luck finding them flying ponies.”

I asked, “What about the aqueduct?”

Mulldoos gave me one of those looks that said he expected the next words out of my mouth to be worthless or worse. “What of it?”

“Well,” I said, pointing at the aqueduct on the hill that fed into the city. “Perhaps scaling the trench wouldn’t work. What if-”

“It wouldn’t.”

“Fine. It’s impossible. But what if they chose to sneak into the city through the aqueduct instead?”

Vendurro pointed at me, “Aye, that’s it! That could work!”

“Couldn’t,” Mulldoos said. “Like to drown or fall to their death more like. But even if they got into Sunwrack by waterway somehow, they got guards posted there, too. And you’re both forgetting something anyway. Even if a group could somehow survive the trench or the aqueduct, which is next to impossible, but let’s say they do.” He pointed to the drawbridge ahead. “They make their midnight raid, and even manage to kill the guards on one gatehouse and lower one drawbridge from the inside. Also ain’t likely, but maybe they’re the toughest bastards who ever lived and they pull it off. Got another real big problem right quick then, don’t they?”

Vendurro thought it through and looked back over this shoulder at the gatehouse we passed through. “Ayyup. Brave bastards would have to climb up from the trench bottom on those four as well, take all the gatehouses. Kill all the guards, roll out or lower all the bridges. All without raising an alarm. All at the same time.”

“Ayyup,” Mulldoos said, mocking only a little. “And if by some miracle they pulled this off, which they ain’t doing, on account of it being impos sible and all, but let’s grant them that for a plaguing laugh. Let’s say they secure all the gates, roll out or lower the bridge together at all points. Real hard to bring an army across one bridge in any kind of hurry-big enough for daily traffic, not designed for moving all your troops. Hew, how long did it take our Tower to cross last time we went out in force?”

Hewspear smiled. “More than half a day. Again, you have demonstrated my point most admirably.”

Mulldoos ignored him, too intent on proving the young sergeant dead wrong even at the expense of his own argument. “Aye. And that was without the walls raining arrows and bolts down on our heads. Can’t take a bridge, but even if you could, not taking the city that way.”

“What’s more,” Hewspear added, “There are over fifty Towers housed inside Sunwrack. Let’s say half of them were out in the field for our imaginary war here. That still leaves at least twenty-five to defend the city, plus all the auxiliaries and city watch. No, a direct assault would be a disaster and doomed from the start, and starvation isn’t practical. I have to say, Mulldoos, that was the most backwards rhetoric I’ve ever witnessed.”

“I’d spit at you, if you were closer.”

Braylar had been silent, eyes roaming the faces leaving Sunwrack, man by man, and tracking the groups in front of us making it through the largest gatehouse and into the city proper. The captain never seemed to relax his guard, even when the rest of him was presumably at ease. He’d seemed to be ignoring the debate, so it surprised me when he said, “The water supply.”

Everyone looked at him and waited for him to elaborate. “You can’t take the city once it’s locked up tight. That is evident enough. But if Sunwrack has a weakness, it is access to water. Yes, there are some wells that go deep, deep into the earth. But they are slow, and on their own, not enough to supply the city for long. Which is why there are vaults and cisterns and conduits. And the aqueduct. So if there were enough traitors in the city, and they were exceptionally well coordinated, they could conceivably poison the wells, and destroy the water vaults. While the besiegers took care of the aqueduct further up in the hills, either destroying that, or poisoning it as well.” His eyes continued assessing and sweeping over everyone, as if looking for traitors.

Mulldoos laugh-snorted. “You got a devious mind, Cap. Right devious, you do. So there you go, old goat. Weren’t my idea, but that could do it.”

Hewspear wasn’t entirely ready to relent. “Conceivably. But in addi tion to being legion, and exceptionally organized and working in perfect conjunction, these cagey saboteurs could also need to be exceptionally willing to die as well, as the vaults and wells are all well-guarded. Plus, they would really need to poison all the barrels of wine and beer besides. And this isn’t a single castle we’re talking about. That kind of coordination and execution, well…”

Braylar replied, “Likely to fail as not. Perhaps more so. But it seems the only gambit that might have any chance of success at all. Sunwrack might be next to impregnable, but no place is impervious to treachery from within. Least of all a city where factions are constantly conducting silent wars against one another, and a large chunk of the local populace would like nothing more than to feed its Syldoon overlords to the bull crabs.”

And then we passed through the large gatehouse and put the massive walls behind us. We were in Sunwrack, Capital of Coups, center of the Empire and all the secrets, maneuvering, and treachery that went with it.

The Thurvacians weren’t so very different from their Anjurian neighbors, at least physically. Perhaps a bit swarthier or more olive in complexion, with darker hair and darker eyes being more common. The capital was, after all, less than two hundred miles from the border of the kingdom of Anjuria. But with the Severed Sea and the Godveil an impassable border to the east, and the Moonvow Mountains and the Bonewash Sea marginally more passable obstacles to the west, there was only a small corridor between the kingdom and empire. But with hostilities for hundreds of years, it was no wonder that any exchange of ideas, invention, costume, and culture were stymied.

I watched Soffjian and Skeelana ride up. The Memoridons had to be factored in as well. While memory witches were persecuted or hunted in most lands, the Syldoon not only tolerated their presence but utilized them to the fullest. Even if all other conditions had been favorable, the Memoridon presence would have frightened off all but the most adventurous of Anjurians from entering the empire.

So, beyond some cosmetic similarities, the two peoples were noticeably disparate. Where Anjurians favored cotehardies and close-fitting tunics, tapered and designed to showcase the wearer’s shape (with sometimes really unfortunate results), and hoods of various sizes, Thurvacians opted for flowing robes with broad voluminous sleeves, or trousers with large overcoats over their tunics, belted with broad sashes, and on their heads, small wool or felt caps trimmed with squirrel or fox fur or, in some cases, dyed feathers. The Anjurians preferred muted colors and dusky jewel tones, but Thurvacian dyers had achieved remarkable colors of nearly any shade imaginable, often bright and outlandish.

The differences extended to construction as well. The kingdom of Anjuria was filled with wattle and daub buildings, or timber, with stone reserved only for the wealthy. But in Sunwrack, the homes and dwellings frequently were red clay or brick, with a much larger number of stone buildings mixed in, utilizing arches for doors, windows, and support for terraced gardens. And most buildings were topped with sheets of copper or brass that had been polished to gleam, capturing every drop of sunlight and making it seem as if the city itself were nearly on fire.

But the Syldoon roaming the streets were more different still, and not simply because of the inked nooses or their pewter Tower badges. Captain Killcoin and his crew had tried to blend in with Anjurians, but here, I was confronted by appearances I had never encountered before. Tall, coppery-skinned men with faces that appeared scarred in ritual fashion; others who shaved the fronts of their heads and dyed the hair in back fantastic colors; more than once I saw two or three who had blue tattoos of ravens inked on their faces. The Syldoon were an eyeful.