Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (61 page)

The siege weapons they described were most certainly
cannons. It seemed that the goblins had been able to cast them out of bronze.
There had been no other reports that indicated any earlier tests of the
weapons, so it would seem that the goblins had done well enough in their first
attempt to pulverize Illard’s Glen’s walls. The damage had been explained to
him and seemed gratuitous; they were likely just working on their aim or
performing drills.

Brannis considered the forges and the ready supply of
iron, and wondered how long it would take to replicate the goblins’ success.
The resources were all at hand, he was fairly certain. Kyrus could easily find
out the proper way to mix the black powder from the crew of the
Harbinger
or someone in Marker’s Point, and he could study the design of the ship’s guns.
They could make iron versions in Raynesdark, heavier and stronger than the ones
the goblins could make from bronze. If they could produce them in time, they
could outgun the goblin army. It was a serious problem if the goblins were able
to set up their cannons and pound the Raynesdark defenses with impunity from
farther away than they could retaliate.

As Brannis considered the cannons that the goblins
had, he considered how the goblins had learned of them. That Denrik Zayne was
involved seemed nearly certain: he had admitted sharing that marvelous
invention of warfare with Veydrus, and the goblins were probably better
candidates for producing working black powder than the Megrenn were. The
Megrenn were traders, merchants, and philosophers—as well as warriors, Brannis
admitted—but not noted alchemists. If Denrik had been in a hurry to get cannons
made, it would be easier to trade with the goblins—the plans in exchange for
working copies, for instance—than to teach his own people.

If Denrik had to teach the goblins how to make the
cannons, could it be possible that
he
is the human liaison reportedly traveling with the goblin army?
Brannis’s eyes widened.
Yes, that might even be likely. I shall have to try
to find out through Kyrus.

*
* * * * * * *

The tour of the undercity had been enlightening, but
Brannis hoped that it would have little bearing on the city’s defense in the
expected battle. If they were driven back to defending the undercity, they
might be in serious trouble. The overcity and the walls were what concerned
Brannis most.

Mennon took them for a walk on those very walls—fitted
stone battlements four times the height of a man, constructed in the same
manner as the castle and just as old. Leaning over, Brannis could see runes in
a long, unbroken line along the length of the wall.

“Iridan, I want you to get started tomorrow on shoring
up these runes,” Brannis ordered. “As much power as you can manage, get them
near to bursting if you can, and make sure there are no weak spots.”

“Thanks, Brannis. I get appointed to the Inner Circle,
and not a tenday goes by before you demote me back to wardkeeper,” Iridan
joked.

Prior to joining Brannis’s expedition to Kelvie
Forest, wardkeeper had been Iridan’s occupation. There were a group of a dozen
or so at any given time in the city of Kadrin, keeping up civic wards on wells,
sewers, roads, and anything else that required aether to function or last. They
would recarve or replace damaged runes and supply aether to depleted ones.
Usually new wards were carved by more senior sorcerers for official imperial
use, but all the wardkeepers knew the craft well enough, and many did work on
the side to earn extra money, earning hefty commissions from paranoid merchants
and nobles.

“Faolen, can you create an illusion of a half wall?”
Brannis asked.

“To what end?” the sorcerer said.

“I expect this wall to be destroyed in the early
goings of the battle. We are going to have to fight within the city itself, and
I want to funnel the goblins into a few areas to make them easier to contain.
If they approach the wall and find sections that are not completely destroyed,
they will avoid them, and it will make them more predictable,” Brannis said.

“Why not just make the wall appear whole?” Faolen
questioned.

“We want them to believe what they see, or at least
not question it overmuch. If they attack the wall and never see any damage,
they are going to figure it out and counter it. We need a light touch and some
realistically damaged-looking walls to fool them.

“Now, Ruuglor, I want you to rune arrows with magic to
carry them farther. On some of them, include runes that will get them through
simple shielding constructs,” Brannis continued.

“Will that not foul the aim of the archers?” Mennon
asked, listening in on a conversation that only tangentially involved him. He
held no rank in the Raynesdark army and would be tucked safely underground when
the fighting started.

“It may,” Brannis said, “but the goblins will set up
siege engines out of range of the archers, and it will be our only chance to
strike at them. I expect that once arrows start reaching them, the sorcerers
will use shielding magics, and then the archers can switch to the arrows with
the extra runes. I see no need to rune them all; take the time to make more
with the distance runes.” Brannis had been giving this thought since he heard
about the cannons, and was finally getting the chance to lay his plan out
before his politely skeptical sorcerers.

“The arrows ought to reach the goblins without magic,”
Mennon added, and Brannis wondered if the fellow knew something of use after
all. “Our bowmen are quite skilled, and we have them equipped with excellent
bows.”

“The new weapons of theirs will outdistance the
bowmen,” Brannis said flatly. He was hoping that he would not have to—

“How can you know that?” Juliana asked.

—explain how he knew that.

“The refugees’ estimates of the placement of the
weapons when they were fired. It would seem that extended range is a primary
advantage of the goblins’ latest weapons,” Brannis lied.

Well, the statement is probably accurate, but none of
the refugees offered anything that specifically useful. I cannot exactly tell
them, “I have seen them in action, and trust me: LOOONG range on those things.”

“What of Caldrax? Should we assign him some task as
well, for the preparations,” Iridan asked.

“I am putting you in charge of him. Have him help with
the wards on the walls. How long those last may play a key part in the battle,”
Brannis said.

I can only hope they do not have enough cannonballs to
bring down the whole wall. I do not like the thought of laying under siege for
long enough for them to finish.

“I did not get the feeling that he was terribly
impressed with me. Why would he take orders from me?” Iridan asked.

“You seem to forget, you are Inner Circle now. Even if
he is not officially in the Imperial Circle, he would have difficulty
justifying any defiance of your orders. If these folk here are not terrified of
crossing our new regent, they ought to be,” Brannis said.

“It is getting late. We ought to head to the castle
for dinner,” Mennon suggested.

“Indeed. I shall clarify anything that needs
clarifying come morning. We have been long on the road, though walking about
all afternoon has felt better than sitting a horse. Lead on, Mennon.”

Brannis waited for everyone to start and then began counting
down in his head:
Three … two … one …

“What about me?” Juliana demanded, getting in
Brannis’s path to block the way to food, wine, and respite until she had been
heard.

“Oh, just get to know the locals. I will have you in
charge of keeping them safe during the battle,” Brannis said in a raised voice.
He pulled Juliana close as he started toward the castle after the rest. “I have
a different plan for you,” he continued in a much lower voice, barely above a
whisper. “I want you to weaken the avalanche wards that keep the Neverthaw
Glacier from dropping a mountainside of snow over the city. If things go badly,
we are going to bury the city under snow and seek the aid of the stone folk.
Raynesdark’s deepest mines cross their territories, and we do not mine them
anymore. They would not fight for our sake, but we could probably buy passage
through their caverns for our civilians.”

“Would that not destroy the whole city?” Juliana
asked, incredulous, slowing them a step farther behind everyone else, lest her
voice carry.

“No. The buildings are warded against avalanche as
well, though the wards are older. I have been studying magic to make better use
of it in warfare, and I was able to recognize the runes as we walked through
the city. The avalanche wards on the retaining wall on the cliffs above the
city … I read about in the army’s reports on the city’s defenses.”

“So this was your plan all along? No wonder you played
coy,” Juliana observed.

“No, it was just my reserve plan in case things go
badly. Do you think you can manage it? Use that runed dagger your are so proud
of and cross some things out.”

“I can.”

“Good. Let us catch up before we are missed.”

*
* * * * * * *

House Pellaton’s dinners appeared to be rather formal
affairs, though thankfully less unwelcoming due to the womenfolk attending.
Duke Pellaton may have been the epitome of the denigrating nobleman, but the
Duchess Daleighah Pellaton was a charming woman. Of middling summers, with only
streaks of white through her light brown hair to betray her age, she looked
every bit the young maid her eldest daughter did. Veena Pellaton was the image
of her mother, with a tiny upturned nose, high round cheeks, and a curved
figure. Mennon attended with his lady wife Aila, a plump cheerful woman who
talked almost constantly. The heads of Duke Pellaton’s garrison forces attended
along with their wives as well, and seemed far more open and personable than
their master.

The duke’s elder son Harwell did not attend, possibly
meaning it as a personal objection to the newcomers’ supplanting his father’s
authority. His lady attended in his place. Gedandra Pellaton was slight of
frame and short of womanly charms as well. She slouched like Mennon at the
table and had the look of a young lad in the face and the build of one in the
body. She was born to the House of Rollack in Naran Port, and the marriage was
strictly of convenience. In their brief introduction, Brannis had found her to
be quick of wit, which made her instantly more interesting to him than the
vapid girl the sorcerer had brought. Caldrax’s lady, who was not introduced as
his wife, was a pale, curvy creature, with shadowed eyes that rarely lifted to
meet the eye of anyone who spoke with her, and who spoke little—which was
thankful, as on those occasions that prompted her to speak, she rarely improved
upon her standing among those present.

The duke’s younger daughters attended as well. Demni
and Phaelia were twins, not yet of age to wed as sorcerers would judge it, but
the nobles tended to err on the side of marrying their daughters too young.
They dressed identically in low-cut, corseted pink dresses, with many-layered
petticoats fluffing them out. Brannis was unsure whose idea the dresses were,
but he found them to be in poor taste; he had been raised by sorcerers, even if
he was not one himself, and found nobles’ marriage—and
daughter-peddling—practices to be tawdry.

Of course, he was unable to cast blame too far, lest
he catch one of his own in the net. While Brannis wore his quicksilver
breastplate over mail, and Iridan, Faolen, and Ruuglor wore their formal
Imperial Circle garb—which in Iridan’s case was quite impressive—Juliana had
taken a different tact. While adhering to the traditional black of the Circle,
she wore a strapless gown of scandalously thin material, making the duke’s
daughters seem prudish by comparison. She cinched it at the waist with a
bloodred sash and had a red silk shawl to match, to keep the slight chill of
the overcity half of the castle at bay. Brannis wished very much that he had
aether-vision at that point, as he was very curious how the dress kept itself
in place, and whether there was magic enhancing her figure, or whether he had
really just not realized …

Brannis managed to keep his attention focused on the
conversation as the meal went on. He was seated at the far end of the long
table from the duke, with Juliana just on the far side of Iridan from him. He
thought he did well to keep his eyes to his food or to whomever he was
speaking, but knew that he was not
entirely
successful. He knew, for
instance, that Juliana had left that dagger—or daggers—of hers in her room.

“Sir Brannis.” Duke Pellaton stood and raised a goblet
of the spiced wine they were drinking. “May the follies of youth plague not
your endeavors, and may all of us live to see their fruit.”

The others at the table raised their goblets as well,
as much out of habit and reflex as out of sympathy for the sentiments offered.
Brannis raised his as well but did not drink. Instead he stood and offered a
toast of his own.

“And to Duke Pellaton. May he extend the warmth of his
hospitality to our goblin foes as well, that they might freeze to death and
save us the trouble of killing them.”

That drew a chuckle from the table, and a wary look
from the duke.