set or they have been killed."
"We'll have to make do with what we have." Indik's face was expressionless. "I wish I could clearly see what is out there. But all reports seem to indicate that a great force is gathered in that darkness. And Innail is not a fortress, after all. I am glad of the wards; magery will have to make up for what we lack in stone."
"Do you need me there?" asked Malgorn.
"I'd rather you stayed out of the fighting," said Indik. "It is hard to keep mindtouch with many people in the midst of battle, and we need one Bard at least in constant contact with everyone. I will send for you if we need you." He nodded at the other Bards, and marched out.
Maerad glanced quickly over at Cadvan. "I'd like to come with you," she said.
"Why not?" said Cadvan. "You can keep an eye on the Landrost just as well on the outer wall as here."
Maerad hesitated, and then, on impulse, drew the blackstone over her head and held it out to Cadvan. He looked at her inquiringly.
"I don't think I'll use it," she said. "I don't like it. I know it's not from the Dark, but there's . . . there's something about it— and it might be useful to you."
Cadvan reached out and took it, and held it in his hand, weighing it.
"They are strange to use, I know," he said. "It's as if they numb the magery inside your skin. But it might be handy, all the same. Are you sure?"
She nodded; Cadvan stroked the stone's strange surface, which seemed to absorb all light as if it were a hole instead of a solid stone, and put it around his neck.
They left the keep and climbed a flight of steps to a broad area behind the battlement wall. Here they were directly above the gate, and it was bustling with activity: archers were posted thickly around the battlements and there were knots of grim-faced soldiers, ready to repel any attackers who raised ladders. They had the same contained, disciplined air that Indik possessed, and although there was a tension among them, a palpable sense that the attack would happen at any moment, they were relaxed. Some were playing dice, others were joking with the young boys and girls who stood ready to tip cauldrons of boiling pitch or to throw stones onto the heads of any who threatened the gate itself.
Maerad was shocked to see children so young up on the battlements; most were no older than Hem. Indik caught her expression.
"I didn't think children fought in Innail," she said to him.
"All volunteers," he answered shortly. "We need every hand we can get. These ones know what they face if we lose. Some have already seen their homes destroyed, their families killed."
Maerad said nothing. It brought home to her, as nothing else had, the violence that had already occurred in the gentle valley of Innail. She felt a deep anger smoldering inside her.
Here on the battlements, she could see the full strangeness of the weathercharm she had helped to cast. The air was still here, even a little stuffy, but the noise of the wind was very loud. Winter sunlight fell on her shoulders, but only a few spans away was a great shadow in which light faltered and died. Through the gloom, she could make out a boiling mass of figures on the ground before the Innail gates, holding flaring torches that hissed and spat in the rain. She could hear the rhythmic twang of bowstrings, and she realized that archers were picking off any attackers foolhardy enough to venture into bowshot.
Indik was right: it was very hard to see what the army was doing, or how far back it stretched into the gloom. But there seemed many, many more soldiers than were stationed here at the gates. Maerad wondered if the forces were this thick all the way around the walls, and drew in her breath. She didn't know if it was worse imagining their attackers, or seeing them with her own eyes. On the whole, she thought, it was better to know the worst. But now she was very frightened indeed.
Remember, said Indik into her mind. I rely on you to keep track of the Landrost. And stay
"We'll have to make do with what we have." Indik's face was expressionless. "I wish I could clearly see what is out there. But all reports seem to indicate that a great force is gathered in that darkness. And Innail is not a fortress, after all. I am glad of the wards; magery will have to make up for what we lack in stone."
"Do you need me there?" asked Malgorn.
"I'd rather you stayed out of the fighting," said Indik. "It is hard to keep mindtouch with many people in the midst of battle, and we need one Bard at least in constant contact with everyone. I will send for you if we need you." He nodded at the other Bards, and marched out.
Maerad glanced quickly over at Cadvan. "I'd like to come with you," she said.
"Why not?" said Cadvan. "You can keep an eye on the Landrost just as well on the outer wall as here."
Maerad hesitated, and then, on impulse, drew the blackstone over her head and held it out to Cadvan. He looked at her inquiringly.
"I don't think I'll use it," she said. "I don't like it. I know it's not from the Dark, but there's . . . there's something about it— and it might be useful to you."
Cadvan reached out and took it, and held it in his hand, weighing it.
"They are strange to use, I know," he said. "It's as if they numb the magery inside your skin. But it might be handy, all the same. Are you sure?"
She nodded; Cadvan stroked the stone's strange surface, which seemed to absorb all light as if it were a hole instead of a solid stone, and put it around his neck.
They left the keep and climbed a flight of steps to a broad area behind the battlement wall. Here they were directly above the gate, and it was bustling with activity: archers were posted thickly around the battlements and there were knots of grim-faced soldiers, ready to repel any attackers who raised ladders. They had the same contained, disciplined air that Indik possessed, and although there was a tension among them, a palpable sense that the attack would happen at any moment, they were relaxed. Some were playing dice, others were joking with the young boys and girls who stood ready to tip cauldrons of boiling pitch or to throw stones onto the heads of any who threatened the gate itself.
Maerad was shocked to see children so young up on the battlements; most were no older than Hem. Indik caught her expression.
"I didn't think children fought in Innail," she said to him.
"All volunteers," he answered shortly. "We need every hand we can get. These ones know what they face if we lose. Some have already seen their homes destroyed, their families killed."
Maerad said nothing. It brought home to her, as nothing else had, the violence that had already occurred in the gentle valley of Innail. She felt a deep anger smoldering inside her.
Here on the battlements, she could see the full strangeness of the weathercharm she had helped to cast. The air was still here, even a little stuffy, but the noise of the wind was very loud. Winter sunlight fell on her shoulders, but only a few spans away was a great shadow in which light faltered and died. Through the gloom, she could make out a boiling mass of figures on the ground before the Innail gates, holding flaring torches that hissed and spat in the rain. She could hear the rhythmic twang of bowstrings, and she realized that archers were picking off any attackers foolhardy enough to venture into bowshot.
Indik was right: it was very hard to see what the army was doing, or how far back it stretched into the gloom. But there seemed many, many more soldiers than were stationed here at the gates. Maerad wondered if the forces were this thick all the way around the walls, and drew in her breath. She didn't know if it was worse imagining their attackers, or seeing them with her own eyes. On the whole, she thought, it was better to know the worst. But now she was very frightened indeed.
Remember, said Indik into her mind. I rely on you to keep track of the Landrost. And stay
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