An Autumn War

place."

The boy didn't speak, but slowly his hands rose to take a pose that

accepted the greeting. It was the training of some court nurse. Nothing

more than that. And still, Sinja thought he saw a sorrow in the child's

eyes and a depth of understanding greater than anyone so small should

have to bear. Sinja sheathed his sword.

"Come on, now," he said. "Let's get you someplace warm and dry. If I

save you from the Galts and then let a fever kill you, Kiyan will have

me flayed alive. I know a tu

THE RUNNERS (:A11E AT LAST, STAGGERING ('I' TTIE.. STAIRS FRONI T HE.

STREETS below, and every report echoed the trumpet calls. The Galts had

aimed for the tu

wider than Otah had pla

windows and alleyways, only a long, bloody struggle. One small slaughter

after another as the Galts pushed their way through the city, looking

for a way down.

Otah stared out at the city, watching the tiny dots of stones drift down

from the towers, hearing the clatter of men and horses echoing against

the high stone walls. I le wondered how long it would take ten thousand

men to kill two full cities. I IC should have met them on the plain. He

could have armed everyone; man, woman, and child. Able or infirm. They

could have swarmed over them, ten and fifteen for every Galt. He sighed.

He could as well have tossed babies on their sword in hopes of slowing

their advance. "I'he Galts would have slaughtered them on the plain or

in the city. I Ie'd tried his trick, and he'd failed. "There was nothing

to gain from regretting the strategies he hadn't chosen.

What he wanted now was a sword and someone to swing it at. He wanted to

be part of the fight if only to keep from feeling so powerless.

"Another ru

Otah's attention. "From the palaces."

Otah nodded and stepped back from the roof edge. The ru

pale-ski

cheeks. (bah could see him try not to pant as the two Khaicm drew near.

Ile took a pose of obeisance.

"What's happening?" Otah demanded.

"The Galts, Most High. "They're sending messengers. "They're abandoning

the palace. It looks as if they're forming a single group."

"Where?"

""l'he old market square," he said.

"Three streets south of the main entrance to the tu

Utah felt his belly sink. He waved the trumpeter over. The man was

exhausted; Utah could see it in the flesh below his eves and in the

angle of his shoulders. His lips were cracked and blood}, from the cold

and his work. Utah put a hand on the man's shoulder.

"One last time," he said. "Call them all to fall back to the tu

entrance. "There's nothing more we can do on the surface."

The trumpeter took an acknowledging pose and walked away, warming the

instrument's mouthpiece with his hand before lifting it to his bruised

mouth. Utah waited as the melody sang out in the snowy air, listened to

the echoes of it fade and he replaced by acknowledging calls.

"We should surrender," Otah said. The Khai Cetani blinked at him.

Beneath the red ice-pinched cheeks, the man grew pale. (bah pressed on.

"We're going to lose, Most Iligh. We don't have soldiers to stop them.

All we'll gain is a few more hours. And we'll pay for it with lives that

don't need to end today."

"We were pla

though Utah could see in the man's eves that he knew the argument was

sound. They were two dead men, fathers of dead families, the last of

their kind in the world. " V'e always knew there would be deaths."

"'T'hat was when we had hope," Utah said.

One of the servants cried out and fell to her knees. Otah turned to her,

thinking first that she had overheard him and been overcome by grief,

and then-seeing her face-that some miraculous arrow had found its way

through the air to their roof. The men around her looked at the Khaiem,

embarrassed at the interruption, or else knelt by the girl to comfort

her. She shrieked, and the stones themselves seemed to take up her

voice. A sound rose from the city in a long, rolling unending moan.

'T'housands of voices, calling out in pain. Otah's skin seemed to

retreat from it, and a chill that had nothing to do with the

still-falling snow ran down his sides. For a moment, the towers

themselves seemed about to twist with agony. This, he thought, was what

gods sounded like when they died.

Around him, men looked nervously at the air, gazes darting into the gray

and white sky. Utah caught the ru

"Go," he said. "Go, and tell me what's happened."

Dread widened the boy's eyes, but he took an acknowledging pose before

retreating. The Khai Cetani seemed poised to ask something, but only

turned away, walking to the roof's edge himself. Utah went to the

servant girl. I Ier face was white with pain.

"What's the matter?" Otah asked her, gently. "Where does it hurt?"

She couldn't take a formal pose, but her gesture and the shame in her

eyes told Otah everything he needed to know. He'd spent several seasons

as a midwife's assistant in the eastern islands. If the girl was lucky,

she had been pregnant and was miscarrying. If she hadn't been carrying a

child, then something worse was happening. He had already ordered the

other servants to carry her down to the physicians when Cehmai appeared,

red-faced and wide-eyed. Before he could speak, it fell into place. The

girl, the unearthly shriek, the poet.

"Something's gone wrong with the binding," Otah said. Cehmai took a pose

of confirmation.

"Please," the poet said. "Come now. I furry."

Otah didn't pause to think; he went to the stairs, lifting the hem of

his robes, and dropping down three steps at a time. It was four stories

from the top of the warehouse to its bottom floor. Otah felt that he

could hardly have gone there faster if he'd jumped over the building's side.

The space was eerie; shadows seemed to hang in the corners of the huge,

empty room and the distant sound of voices in pain murmured and

shrieked. Great symbols were chalked on the walls, and an ugly,

disjointed script in Nlaati's handwriting spelled out the binding. Otah

knew little enough of the old grammars, but he picked out the words for

womb, seed, and corruption. Three people stood in tableau at the top of

the stair that led down to the tu