forward with it into the bricks on the far side. Others above toppled down, knocking each other out of place in their collapse. The wind and rain flew into weak places, and eased it all.
In moments, where the shell of a building had been, there was now a ruin of fallen brick, ragged remnants of walls, surrounding a great hole in the ground. Talaos sighed, weary, but satisfied with his work. He returned to the wagon, and to an expression of shocked wonder on the face of Demistas. Then he took the harness and hauled the wagon and the medical supplies back to his waiting men.
~
It had been a busy night, but now the wind slowed and the rain reduced to a monotonous drizzle under a pale gray mid morning sky. Men moved about the great plaza, soldiers mostly, but here and there the braver of the citizens of Avrosa. Sanctari's firm discipline held, thought Talaos, and the conquerors let the conquered go about the business of keeping a city running. Water was still ankle deep on the paving stones. As the other figures around him crossed the plaza, nearly all of them turned to look at the ruins of the House of the Prophet.
Not Talaos. He paid it no further mind. Ahead of him loomed the far vaster structure of the Council Hall, with its gilt-work dome and its many steps. The corpses of slain councilors and fallen soldiers were gone. A great many living soldiers of the allied army milled about at the top, under the sheltering colonnade, on various tasks of their own.
He was in his full gear and armor, cleaned as best as could be overnight, with his cloak thrown back over his shoulders, more a decorative part of his uniform than useful in its sodden state. Up the steps he went, and as he passed, soldiers stopped with varying expressions of fear, awe, wonder, or worship. All of them, however, saluted.
The mighty twin doors were before him, rich with gilt decoration. Gateway to the seat of power of a fallen city, he thought. Soldiers opened the doors for him. Inside was a large entrance chamber, and beyond the far greater chamber of the dome. Avrosa was not Carai, and there was more plain stone than marble, and less inlay than paint, but it was still grand.
Around the chamber of the dome ran two galleries, and halls and stairs in all directions. The greatest stairs were straight ahead, to the chambers of the council. There, the commanders and many others would be waiting for him. Quite a few would not be pleased. There were many more soldiers, and many more salutes. He walked up the stairs and down a richly decorated marbled hall. Ahead were a pair of lavishly inlaid wooden doors. Soldiers flanked them, and opened them.
Near him, on either side, were rows of seats facing the far end. Most sat empty, but toward the front on the right were assembled several of the tribunes and other senior officers of the army. Adriko waited there, looking uncharacteristically gloomy. On the left was a small delegation of Avrosans. One was a sturdy man with a light brown beard, in the simple clothing and white cap of a follower of the Prophet.
Toward the far end of the room stood an immense table, shaped like a half ring with an open center. It had room for fifteen, but only seven sat there; the seven senior commanders of the army. Sanctari had taken a chair at the center, higher backed than the others. At his right was Nissas, and his left Kurvan. They were flanked by Generals Dromno, Aro and Pelias, and by Warlord Tescani.
Talaos thought that complex emotions were playing out, under the steely professional faces of the five generals. Kurvan, on the other hand, beamed at Talaos like a proud father. Tescani's face was pure cold calculation, like a mask made of iron gears.
He approached the table of the commanders. In the center of the half-ring a circle of decorative geometric tiled floor radiated lines out to the approximate spot of each of the fifteen seats. It looked like the sort of place he'd be expected to stand, but he didn't,
In moments, where the shell of a building had been, there was now a ruin of fallen brick, ragged remnants of walls, surrounding a great hole in the ground. Talaos sighed, weary, but satisfied with his work. He returned to the wagon, and to an expression of shocked wonder on the face of Demistas. Then he took the harness and hauled the wagon and the medical supplies back to his waiting men.
~
It had been a busy night, but now the wind slowed and the rain reduced to a monotonous drizzle under a pale gray mid morning sky. Men moved about the great plaza, soldiers mostly, but here and there the braver of the citizens of Avrosa. Sanctari's firm discipline held, thought Talaos, and the conquerors let the conquered go about the business of keeping a city running. Water was still ankle deep on the paving stones. As the other figures around him crossed the plaza, nearly all of them turned to look at the ruins of the House of the Prophet.
Not Talaos. He paid it no further mind. Ahead of him loomed the far vaster structure of the Council Hall, with its gilt-work dome and its many steps. The corpses of slain councilors and fallen soldiers were gone. A great many living soldiers of the allied army milled about at the top, under the sheltering colonnade, on various tasks of their own.
He was in his full gear and armor, cleaned as best as could be overnight, with his cloak thrown back over his shoulders, more a decorative part of his uniform than useful in its sodden state. Up the steps he went, and as he passed, soldiers stopped with varying expressions of fear, awe, wonder, or worship. All of them, however, saluted.
The mighty twin doors were before him, rich with gilt decoration. Gateway to the seat of power of a fallen city, he thought. Soldiers opened the doors for him. Inside was a large entrance chamber, and beyond the far greater chamber of the dome. Avrosa was not Carai, and there was more plain stone than marble, and less inlay than paint, but it was still grand.
Around the chamber of the dome ran two galleries, and halls and stairs in all directions. The greatest stairs were straight ahead, to the chambers of the council. There, the commanders and many others would be waiting for him. Quite a few would not be pleased. There were many more soldiers, and many more salutes. He walked up the stairs and down a richly decorated marbled hall. Ahead were a pair of lavishly inlaid wooden doors. Soldiers flanked them, and opened them.
Near him, on either side, were rows of seats facing the far end. Most sat empty, but toward the front on the right were assembled several of the tribunes and other senior officers of the army. Adriko waited there, looking uncharacteristically gloomy. On the left was a small delegation of Avrosans. One was a sturdy man with a light brown beard, in the simple clothing and white cap of a follower of the Prophet.
Toward the far end of the room stood an immense table, shaped like a half ring with an open center. It had room for fifteen, but only seven sat there; the seven senior commanders of the army. Sanctari had taken a chair at the center, higher backed than the others. At his right was Nissas, and his left Kurvan. They were flanked by Generals Dromno, Aro and Pelias, and by Warlord Tescani.
Talaos thought that complex emotions were playing out, under the steely professional faces of the five generals. Kurvan, on the other hand, beamed at Talaos like a proud father. Tescani's face was pure cold calculation, like a mask made of iron gears.
He approached the table of the commanders. In the center of the half-ring a circle of decorative geometric tiled floor radiated lines out to the approximate spot of each of the fifteen seats. It looked like the sort of place he'd be expected to stand, but he didn't,
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