exhaustion.
“We’d barely made it halfway through the province when the Tuhla came,” Deshai reported to Sho Tsai. He had dismounted in the courtyard to offer the general a smart salute, but stood at attention on unsteady legs and voice dripping with fatigue. “Just a few hundred at first, we drove them off in short order, but they brought a swarm of their brethren back a day later. We burned all the crops we could, dumped animal carcasses in the wells. I doubt the enemy will glean much in the way of supplies from Keshin-Ghol. But it cost us, General.” He turned his weary gaze on his men, many of whom were sinking to their knees the moment they slid from the saddle. “As you can see.”
“I couldn’t ask for more, Commander,” Sho Tsai told him. His gaze tracked to the bedraggled farmers setting their burdens down. Perhaps half were men in their twenties or thirties, the rest a mix of younger women and a few children. “This is all?” he asked Deshai.
“The old folk either chose to stay or fell away on the trail,” the commander replied. “Most of the people fled directly south, ignoring our offers of protection. I don’t think much for their chances in open country. The Tuhla were in no mood to spare anyone. We even found children . . .” Deshai choked, face twitching before he mastered himself and coughed. “Your pardon, General.”
“See to your men,” Sho Tsai told him. “Then get some rest.”
The commander gave another smart salute and marched unsteadily away, rousing his men with orders to stable their horses and clean their kit.
“So,” Vaelin observed to the general, nodding at the beggared farmers. “No more supplies.”
“And more mouths to feed into the bargain.” Vaelin saw a decision flicker in Sho Tsai’s gaze. “It’s my intention to make this city the grave of the Stahlhast,” he said. “To do that it must become a trap, a battlefield unencumbered by useless mouths and those who cannot fight.”
A seed of worry crept into Vaelin’s heart as he took in the stern resolve on Sho Tsai’s face. “What do you intend?” he asked.
Some measure of his concern must have coloured his voice because the general replied with a short, caustic laugh. “Why, kill all the civilians in Keshin-Kho, of course. Is that what you expect me to say?” He shook his head. “The Barbarous East must truly be a terrible place. No, my lord, I have another plan in mind.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“I have to say, I think I’d much rather walk.”
Erlin’s brows bunched in dubious appraisal as he looked over the barge. Vaelin had to admit it seemed incredible that the barges could remain afloat, so crammed with people were they. Most were women, mothers with children and as yet unwed daughters. The men were all old and few in number. The Great Northern Canal met its terminus in the lowest tier of Keshin-Kho, opening out into a circular harbour equal in size to anything Vaelin had seen in a mid-sized port in the Realm.
The useless mouths of the city clustered in a weeping but otherwise quiescent multitude on the quay, many saying hurried tear-soaked farewells to their husbands and sons before walking the ramps to the barges. Once a barge had sunk low enough that the water obscured the white line painted onto its hull, ropes would be cast and sails raised as it began its southward voyage.
“You wouldn’t get more than a few miles before their scouts picked you up,” Vaelin told Erlin. “And I’m keen for our enemy not to read this.” He handed over the sealed scroll-tube along with the letter of free passage signed by Sho Tsai. “You have the gold secreted, I assume?”
“In my boot-heels and the lining of my jacket,” Erlin assured him. “If a bandit should find one, hopefully they’ll miss the other. Besides, I think any passing outlaws will find easier pickings elsewhere,” he added, gesturing to the fleet of heavily laden barges.
Thanks to a low-key but constant exodus of civilians in recent months, the city was only two-thirds as populous as it had been before the crisis. Consequently, there was sufficient space aboard the long, deep-hulled barges to accommodate every soul in need of escape. Some had been given a choice, mainly men considered too old for military service but not so infirm that they had no use. Most of these elected to stay, Sho Tsai forming them into companies of porters who would